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Chapter Text

University had never been on Dean’s Life bingo card. It had always been Sam’s thing. Since he knew what the law was Sam had sworn up and down that he would become a lawyer, and once he was old enough to do so he dutifully went away to Stanford. He had been there ever since and was loving it.

Dean never really knew which path he intended for his life to take, but he knew further education was never it. Throughout high school, no career had ever intrigued him, and eventually, his father, John Winchester, had told him that Winchester Enterprises- W.E. for short- would one day be Dean’s responsibility. His father had seemed hesitant to admit it, but Sam was far too busy ‘making a life for himself’ to take over the family business, so it fell upon Dean’s shoulders.

This was fine by Dean’s standards; he was stressing himself out trying to come up with something to waste his life doing and his father had just carved his future into stone for him. Perfect.

So, of course, this meant that the second Dean graduated high school he expected his father to begin properly training him on how to be CEO of the company, rather than just the intern he currently worked as. However, that was not an option. He was left to work as an intern for a while, to get the company’s feel and to get to know the other employees who would soon be working under him.

But after a few years, after Sammy had already been away at college for a year, his father sat him down to give him some much-unwanted news. He would have rather his father tell him that he had to work his way up through the company from his intern position than this. Anything else really. His father knew how much education bored Dean, how it just wasn’t his scene. He had good enough grades throughout school; he just hated the environment vehemently.

Now, he was wishing his grades had been worse. Because his father had taken it upon himself to enrol Dean in the best colleges, and he had apparently been accepted into Stanford alongside his brother. Despite his protests, his father had forced him into the Impala with the majority of his belongings stuffed in the back and had moved him into Stanford the second his dorm became available.

His father had signed him up for the necessary business studies courses and had insisted that it would help Dean become a better CEO once he took over completely. He had also signed him up for some It courses, despite Dean’s hatred for technology, because it would help him to run everything smoother if he ‘understood the computer systems’. Emails and Excel worksheets were not as hard as his father made them out to be.

He felt extremely underprepared and, honestly, like a complete idiot as he was left to trudge around campus with his belongings trailing behind him as he followed his father. He had no idea what he was doing or where he needed to be so it was better to follow him, but it still made him feel like an incompetent child.

He had never been more relieved to see his little brother more than when he turned down the corridor he and his dad were down. He sighed with relief when he saw Sam, and apparently, he wasn’t the only happy one, as his father too sighed with relief upon seeing his younger son. Sam seemed shocked to see them, and even a little confused when he noticed that Dean was lugging all his belongings with him. At least his brother hadn’t been in on this.

“Ah, Sam, here take your brother to find his dorm and everything else. I need to get going. Call if you boys need anything,” he says, handing some papers over to Sam and immediately going back the way they came, most likely back to the car so he could head home immediately.

Neither boy took any notice of their father’s quick absence, used to it from how often he’d leave them alone to go to work. But Sam looked his older brother up and down before tilting his head with confusion. “What are you doing here, Dean? And your dorm? You go here now? I thought you had always hated school?” he rambled, rattling off questions one by one without giving Dean a chance even to try and answer any of them.

“I don’t know, man. I do hate it, dad just sat me down and said he’d gotten me into Stanford and in the car we went. He’s expecting me to get some business degree and some IT shit so I can take over W.E. No warning or nothing, he had all my shit packed up ready to go.” he says, looking just as confused as his brother, but a lot more angry.

Sam sighed, and thought of something to say, but only came up “That’s rough.” So instead he looked through the papers his father had handed him. He found the general admissions letter he had been given the year prior; information about his dorm, which he luckily didn’t have to share, information on where to go collect his keys, a map of campus, his lecture timetable, and a bunch of other stuff that wasn’t really of any importance but should be kept anyway, just in case.

“Ok, looks like your dorm isn’t that far from mine, we’re in sister buildings on the other side of campus. Literally, a five-minute walk from each other, let’s go get your key from admissions.” Sam said, finally looking up from the papers to take his brother in. his brother looked dumbfounded like he didn’t even know where to begin, and now that he could look around without being chastised by their father for acting like a child, he was taking full advantage.

“Dean!” Sam said, raising his voice a little. When his brother managed to tear his eyes away from the architecture of the building, he at least had the gall to look sheepish.

“What?” he asked, and Sam knew he hadn’t heard a word of what he’d just said.

“Keys? Let’s go,” he says, pointing over his shoulder to the staircase that led to the admissions office. Dean made an ‘oh’ shape with his mouth before nodding and following after Sam, who at least had enough manners to help him with his things, instead of watching him struggle like their dad had.

They make their way to the office while catching up on what they’d missed in each other’s lives. Dean filled Sam in on all the gossip spreading around W.E. like wildfire, and Sam had filled him in on the drama that had recently occurred in his small friend group. Dean had only met Sam’s friends a handful of times, mainly when he came up to visit Sam when their father was a bit too much.

One of his friends was a boy called Kevin, who was only really getting his Law degree to make his mother happy; he had actually wanted to take religious studies, always having felt a strange closeness to God, but his mother didn’t think it was ‘educational enough’. Dean scoffed at that, if your kid was happy and willing to go to school you should at least let them go for something they’re interested in, not something that you think is commendable enough’.

His other friend was Eileen, who was actually a T.A. for a sign language class, and not another student. She had apparently been deaf nearly her whole life, and she knew how to read lips and things. Still, Sam had coincidentally started taking online sign language courses not long after starting school just so that he could communicate with her better. Dean had a sneaking suspicion that Sam had more than ‘friend’ feelings for Eileen, but was promptly told off every time he brought it up so he had taken to simply raising his eyebrows and suggestively smirking at his brother every time he brought her up.

Luckily, when they made it to the office Sam handled everything for him, which still made him feel like an incompetent idiot, but at least Sam didn’t make the feeling worse on purpose like John had. He had at least made an effort to include Dean in the conversation with Mr. Ketch, who spoke far too aristocratic for Dean’s liking.

Dean didn’t really pay much attention anyway; he knew Sam would handle it. Instead, he took in his surroundings as he processed what was happening to him. He mindlessly followed Sam from the office when he had left, and was still trying to figure out what he would do when they made it to what was apparently going to be his dorm.

Honestly, it wasn’t bad. Dean had no qualms about the dorm room, it just wasn’t where he had expected he’d be staying. He assumed he’d be in his own bed tonight, not some rickety old single in a small, cold room.

Nevertheless, he tuned out Sam’s incessant rambling and threw his stuff on the end of the bed with a huff. He didn’t want to unpack it, but he saw the disapproving look Sam sent him when he went to move his stuff to the floor. So instead he nodded along as Sam continued to ramble something about a ‘Professor Crowley’ who’s teaching Sam law this semester and how Sam had taken a liking to his sarcastic, quick wit.

He pulled the clothes he’d rushed to shove into his bag out and grumbled as he folded his once-balled-up clothes into semi-neat piles so that he could half-hazardly stuff them into one of his drawers. He could see Sam’s brain short-circuit in the corner of his eye as the pile topples over in the drawer, but Dean couldn’t care less. He slams that drawer closed, and starts stuffing underwear and socks into the smaller drawers at the top.

Luckily, there is an indoor wardrobe, so Dean hangs up the few jackets and flannel shirts he has in there, before throwing his duffle and backpack into the bottom. He managed to salvage one poster from his bedroom, which he hung up over the bed.

“Dude, you can’t stand on the fresh bedding with shoes on! Get down or take ‘em off!” Sam chastises, but Dean simply scoffs.

“My bed, my rules Sammy. I can have whatever or whoever I want in this bed,” he says with a slight smirk, jumping down once he’s sure the poster isn’t going to fall off. However one of the top corners does come unstuck, which leaves it to fold over onto itself as Dean curses and climbs back up to right in once again.

“Ew, gross, I didn’t need to know that, jerk,” Sam cringes, to which Dean only chuckles.

“Bitch,” he replies, as Sam goes back to talking about something new he’d learnt in his most recent lecture, but Dean pays him no mind.

Instead, he throws himself down onto the bed properly so that he can lie down. He brought his hands to rest behind his head and closed his eyes, trying his best to relax despite the stress his father was putting him through. Sam eventually stopped talking when he noticed Dean had tuned him out and instead threw a pillow at him to gain his attention.

“Ow, what?” he asks disgruntled, pulling the pillow to rest behind his head instead of his hands, which he folds over his stomach.

“I’m going to get lunch with Eileen and Kevin in the canteen, you coming?” he asks.

“Sure, why not? I could eat,” he says, standing from his bed. He pulls his shoes back on and follows Sam to the door. “Do they have pie?” he asks, to which Sam scoffs.

“Obviously,” Sam says, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Dean never cared much for lessons, and he knew he would feel the same about lectures. That’s why he refused to attend the first few, even if only to spite his father.

The only downside was that Dean quickly grew bored. Despite being brothers, Sam didn’t share his dislike for education. He thrived with it. So Dean could never convince him to skip a lecture or two to waste time together. They only saw each other during Sam’s free periods and lunch. Even then, Sam was splitting his time between Dean and spending romantic time with Eileen, though he refused to admit that was what it was.

Hence, Dean grew bored and irritable. He had long since run out of things to do, and spending time alone in his dorm grew tiring rather quickly. When he expressed his newfound boredom to his brother, he only scoffed at the response he received.

“Why don’t you actually attend a lecture?” he asks, as though it’s not the most absurd thing to say to Dean.

“Are you crazy? Do you know me at all?” he asks in return, to which Eileen snorts a laugh from Sam’s side.

“You don’t have to pay attention to the lecture, just gives you something to do. A change of scenery. You might even make a friend or two,” he sneers.

Dean mocks a laugh in return. “I have friends,” he says, shovelling another forkful of pie into his mouth.

“No, you don’t. Mine don’t count,” he says, just as Dean was about to protest.

“You know what? Fine, why not? What could go wrong?” he asks.

As it turns out, everything could go wrong. He slumped into his seat beside a girl his age, with the brightest red hair he’d ever seen. She was chatting amicably with a man their age next to her, and Dean found himself already regretting his choices. Dean hated the fact that he’d been one of the last to show up to the lecture, as there were very few seats left when he’d arrived and he now found himself having to listen to the redhead’s incessant rambling about ‘LARP-ing’?

When she noticed that Dean had taken the seat beside her, the redhead turned to face him. “Oh, hi! I’m Charlie, this is Benny,” she says.

“Dean,” he replies gruffly, turning back to face the front.

“How come I haven’t seen you in any lectures before? Professor Novak has had at least 6 lectures, and I haven’t seen you in any. Have you caught up on the notes? If not, you’re going to be behind,” Charlie rambles, clearly not getting the message that Dean intends to ignore her. Even Benny can already see Dean’s apparent annoyance plastered on his face because he snickers at him from over Charlie’s shoulder.

“No, I haven’t, and I’m not so sure I care much about falling behind. I don’t want to be here anyway, I’m only attending because my dad’s making me, I don’t hope to get good grades, I just want this to be over,” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he sinks further into his chair.

“Well, I’m here because I intend to start a software company, and Benny is here because he wants to open his own bakery,” Charlie explains, clearly over-excited about attending her first year of college.

“Cool, I’m taking over the family business. This is all just a formality,” he explains, to which she nods in understanding, as does Benny.

Benny opens his mouth to finally say something but is cut off as the door at the front of the lecture hall opens. All student’s eyes are pulled to the front where the Professor is now walking in. Dean would say he looks cold, bored almost. As though he didn’t want to be there. But when he paid attention and looked at him thoroughly he could see that it was just a mask. An extremely attractive mask.

Dean had known that he was bisexual since his late teens, but he had hidden it as his father would only be homophobic towards him. He’s made his opinion known on gay relationships long ago, before Dean was even aware of his own sexuality, so Dean had taken it upon himself not to mention it. After all, he was bisexual, he could always just get a girlfriend and hide any attraction to men.

But now that he was looking upon the man at the front of the lecture hall, he couldn’t help but feel like he would never be able to hide his attraction to a man ever again. Especially not this man. He looked around Dean’s age, maybe a little older and almost innocent despite his rugged appearance. He had a little stubble growing on his jaw, and his eyes were of the brightest blue. He wore a suit, buttoned up all prim and proper, with a navy blue tie hanging from around his neck. A beige trench coat sat on his shoulders, and Dean wanted nothing more than to take it off.

Curse him for being one of the last to show up, forcing him to sit so up close and personal with Professor Novak. He watched as the professor slammed a pile of notebooks and textbooks onto his neat desk with a huff, and couldn’t tear his eyes away from his hands. Strong veins ran over the back of them, fine hairs grew on his knuckles, and Dean couldn’t help but envision those fingers wrapped around his neck. He’d never been one for necklaces, but he thinks he’d wear this one.

When he finally managed to tear his eyes away from the man’s hands, he was met with those same bright blue as before, only this time they bore straight into his own. That once cold mask was now a slight smirk, and Dean wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t paid deep attention to his full lips as he entered the room. He felt a blush begin to blossom in his cheeks, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the other man’s. They were alluring in the best way. Dean thinks he could get lost in them forever and never want to be found. He could drown in them and never want to resurface.

The Professor raises his eyebrow in challenge, but Dean simply smirks and makes it as obvious as he can that he’s checking him out. Perhaps he won’t pay attention or put any effort into this course, but he’d pay attention to this professor as much as he could. He couldn’t help but imagine this professor underneath him.

How pretty he’d look with his eyes rolled back into his skull, his legs wrapped around Dean’s waist as he thrust into him. He imagines Novak would make the most beautiful sounds. A litany of mottled, purple bruises adorning his neck like a necklace would suit the professor well. Or maybe if he wore Dean’s hand like one? Either way, he’d look gorgeous with something of Dean’s wrapped around his neck.

And he’d look impeccable with his lips wrapped around something of Dean’s. He’s sure they’d taste so fucking good if Dean were to press his own lips to them, perhaps even open them up with his tongue. They were fuller than he’d expect of a man, and they were a pretty pink. Dean thinks he knew of a few ways to make them pinker. Professor Novak finally pulls his gaze away from Dean with a slight blush on his face. So, Dean affected him too, did he? Perfect.

Dean could tell the other man was talking as he stripped himself of his trench coat, but Dean couldn’t hear the words coming out of his mouth. Instead, he imagined the man stripping further. He imagined how broad his chest would be. Were his nipples as pink as his lips were? They’re supposed to be the same shade as your lips, and the professor’s were a very pronounced pink. Would he have abs under that fitted shirt or just a flat stomach? How deep were the dips that formed the ‘v’ leading between his legs? How thick was the hair that formed his happy trail? What would he look like wearing his tie and nothing but?

What would it feel like to sit on those thick thighs trapped behind his suit trousers? Would Professor Novak enjoy watching him ride his thigh? Would he let him ride him in other ways? Would he ride Dean? He has to shake his head to dispel his thoughts before they sway too far off track, he can already feel his cock chubbing up in his jeans, and he’d hear no end of it if he met up with Sam for lunch with a boner. He really needed to get a hold of himself before he made his arousal impossible to hide

The lesson continues, Benny and Charlie work hard beside him, but he takes no notice. His attention focused solely on the man standing in the front of the room. Professor Novak notices that Dean takes no notes the entire time he speaks, and his eyes meet Dean’s head-on every time he looks his way, but Dean can’t find it in himself to care. He’s having such a good time just sat here. Sam was right, a change of scenery was nice.

Before long the lecture has ended, and everyone starts stuffing notebooks, textbooks, pens and laptops into backpacks and satchels before standing. He moves to do the same before he’s called upon.

“Mr. Winchester, I take it?” Professor Novak asks, suddenly standing much closer than Dean was aware of. He felt the blush flare up in his cheeks again, but chose to ignore it as he regarded the teacher.

“Professor Novak, I take it?” he mirrors, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“Do you have time for me to speak with you?” Novak asks, and Dean nods with a shrug.

“Sure,” he answers. They wait for the rest of the class to file from the lecture hall, and the professor closes the door behind the last student to leave. Then he turns his attention solely to Dean, which leaves butterflies to burst around his stomach. He decides to ignore them in favour of finding out why the man wishes to speak with him.

“May I ask why I haven’t yet seen you in any of my lectures until present?” he asks, also crossing his arms across his own chest.

“Why? Have you been looking for me, Professor?” he asks, smirking as he does. He takes great pride in watching a blush spread across the other man’s face again. It’s a sight that Dean is sure he’ll never grow tired of.

“Well, I can’t say I didn't take notice of the only absent student from my first lecture. Especially when he doesn’t show up for the following five lectures, and then proceeds to take no notes in the only lecture he does attend. Can you see now why I may wish to speak with you, Mr. Winchester?” he asks.

“Oh, please professor, call me Dean,” he says suggestively. The Professor raises his eyebrows in response, before speaking.

“So, what excuse do you have for your absences and ignorance of my lectures, Dean?” he asks, and Dean can’t help but love the way the other man’s lips curl around the sound of his name.

“To be frank, Professor, college isn’t for me. I’m only here because of my dad, lectures aren’t my scene. Though I have to admit, if I’d have known you were my professor I’d have been here from the very beginning,” he says, smirks stretching across his face.

He raises his eyebrows in response and tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. “And why is that?” he asks, though it’s clear he knows the answer. So Dean makes up a very obvious lie.

“You’re quite impressive when you teach, held all my focus and attention for the entire lecture. I enjoyed it very much,” he lies with a smirk.

“Oh really?” he asks.

“Really,” Dean replies.

“What was the focus of the lecture?” the professor asks, and Dean can see that he’s about to be caught out, so it’s probably best he leaves when he can. He makes his way toward the door without a word and only turns back when he’s taken one step out.

“Oh, that would be your eyes, Sir. Very blue,” he says with a smirk, joy filling his chest as he watches shock and embarrassment flood the teacher’s face once he walks away. He’s definitely attending all of his lectures from now on.

Chapter Text

In the following week, he attended every one of Professor Novak’s lectures. He notes the irritation that swamps the other man’s face as he realises Dean never makes notes or pays attention to the lectures. He only pays attention to Castiel.

Of course, Dean had done some digging and had discovered the Professor’s real name. He’d not let the teacher know that Dean was aware of his name, saving it for the right moment. But Dean thought the name fit him rather well. He was angelic after all, with those iridescent, bright blue eyes.

But now, Castiel is handing out a paper. A surprise quiz which all the students had promptly groaned at. He placed one in front of Dean with a raised eyebrow, and Dean knew he couldn’t hand this paper back empty. So once Castiel tells everyone they can begin, he borrows a pen from Benny, whom he had continued to sit beside and had actually become fond of, and notices that the questions on the paper were rather easy. He knew all the answers simply from working for his father.

Despite this, he would never give his dad the satisfaction of seeing his grades improve, just in case he took that to mean that enrolling Dean in college had been the right thing to do. So he answered everything wrong purposefully. He smirked in satisfaction as he finished before everyone else, and sat with his feet up until Castiel came around to collect the papers.

The professor hadn’t noticed the smug smirk lining Dean’s face, but he noticed that Dean refused to pay attention to anything other than his professor’s mouth as it curled around the words he spoke.

When the lecture was over Castiel announced that he would grade and give back the paper the following day. Dean had made his way out of the lecture hall chatting to Charlie about how he answered the paper. He told her what he had done, and she guffawed with laughter at his explanation. “You’re an idiot, why would you do that?’ she asks.

“To prove my father wrong obviously. I don’t need to be here, I never have,” he says, to which she nods but scoffs.

“You know, so many people would fight so hard to attempt to study here. You have a free pass and you’re wasting it,” she chides, but he knows it’s all in good faith.

“Well, not completely. I’m attending Novak’s lectures,” he says, as though he actually pays attention in said lectures.

“Whatever, come on man, let’s go get lunch. You’re free, right Benny?” Charlie asks, turning towards the man who had been walking with them in silence.

“Sorry, but no can do. I promised I’d meet Andrea for food, maybe next time?” he asks.

“Sure, Dean?” she asks.

“I promised Sam,” he says, raising his hands beside his head in defence.

She sighs but nods, “Fine, later bitches,” she says, walking away now that they’ve made it to the canteen. Dean spots Sam and begins to make his way over.

“Bye, Charlie. See you tomorrow.”

The next day everyone sits in Professor Novak’s lecture hall waiting impatiently. They’re all anxious to get the results of their quizzes, he’s more anxious to see Professor Novak’s reaction to his quiz. He hadn’t been thinking about it the day before, too preoccupied with what would happen when his father found out. With how irritated the professor had been with him recently he was almost afraid to actually disappoint him. To prove him right, that his ignorance really had made him stupid.

Castiel walked in and Dean tuned everything out as he passed the quizzes back out, commenting on how students had done when he passed theirs back. When he made it to Dean he pressed the paper into the desk, pointing at the massive zero at the top of the page. “Speak with me after?” he asks. Dean only nods solemnly.

Dean then found that he was now attending the longest lecture he’d ever attended in his life. He waited almost anxiously for the end to come, and when everyone else filed out of the lecture hall, Dean stood and waited by the desk at the front. He tapped his foot impatiently as the others took their time leaving, and once they finally had he turned back to Castiel.

He expected the professor to regard him with scowls, but he smiled slightly and collected his things from his desk. Then he made his way to the door, “Follow me, Dean, and bring your quiz” he called behind him.

Dean did as he was told for once in his life and followed behind his professor like a lost puppy. Castiel entered an office with ‘Professor Novak’ inscribed on the door. Once inside, Dean sat on the guest side of the desk with his backpack by his feet and watched as Castiel locked the door and made his way around to his side of the desk.

He piled his books onto this desk like he did with the one in the lecture hall every morning, and Dean once again found that he couldn’t take his eyes away from his hands. He never could. Castiel cleared his throat, gaining his student’s attention, and this time Dean had the gall to look shy.

“Tell me, Dean, how have you managed to get a zero on my multiple-choice quiz?” he asks, taking a seat and crossing his arms over his chest. He raises his eyebrows questioningly, and Dean smiles.

“Well, Sir, surely you’ve noticed that I haven’t exactly attended many of your lectures, and when I do I can’t say it’s the material that captures my attention,” he says, raking his eyes obviously over Castiel’s form.

“Do you know the possibility of getting a zero on a multiple-choice quiz, Dean?” he asks, tilting his head in confusion once again. Dean finds it just as adorable this time as he did the previous time.

“I don’t know, low?” he asks sarcastically.

“If someone were to answer a multiple-choice quiz blind they would get a rough 50%. The only way to get 100% of the answers wrong, is to know all of the right answers,” he says, to which Dean groans. He’s been caught out, he should have at least gotten a few right.

“You knew all the correct answers but still purposefully answered wrong, why?” Castiel asks, pointing at Dean’s quiz paper between them. Dean hadn’t even seen him do it but Castiel had changed the grade to 100.

“I don’t want to be here, sir. It was not my choice to come to college, my father forced me. So I’m planning on getting bad grades in your class to show him that being here is not what’s right for me. I don’t even attend my other lectures, if I’m honest I only come to yours to watch you.” he says, a blush on his cheeks. A matching blush rises on Castiel’s cheeks and Dean hates that he’s blushed more since meeting this professor than he ever has before.

“To watch me?” he asks, to which Dean nods.

Castiel stands with a nod and moves to stand on Dean’s side of the desk. He leans against the desk facing Dean in his chair, and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever been more intimidated by a man just because of his height. He forces that thought away and focuses on Cas as he begins to speak again. “See, the problem with that, Dean, is that your attendance in my lectures is recorded, and your grades are going to reflect poorly on my teaching. I can’t have that, can I?” he asks. Dean hadn’t even thought of that.

“Sorry, Sir, didn’t even think about it that way,” he says honestly. Castiel nods.

“What am I going to do with you, Mr. Winchester?” he asks, tilting his head in thought.

“Punish me?” Dean asks, and he can’t help but smirk as he does. What a dream that would be. He had been imagining himself topping and even perhaps bossing his professor around, but the authority leaking off him in waves is shockingly turning Dean on. He can feel his cock starting to get hard at just the thought, but he knew it would never happen. He waited for the blush to rise on his professor’s face at the implication, but it never came.

Castiel can tell it’s sarcastic. He knows that Dean doesn’t mean it, at least not in the way that his tone suggests. But Castiel can’t help but consider it. Punishing Dean over the desk in his office sounds like a dream. He’s been unable to get his student off his mind since he locked eyes on him. And Dean’s constant flirting hasn’t helped in the slightest. What was he to do?

“Maybe I will,” he says, standing to his full height before reaching forward to pull Dean from his chair. Dean isn’t expecting it in the slightest, and can’t help as he stumbles and sways on his feet. He doesn’t even have time to regain his footing before Castiel stands behind him and pushes his chest to meet the flat surface of the desk. He keeps one hand on the small of Dean’s back, the other holds his wrists together. Dean’s never been turned on by being ‘forced’ into submission before, but this was surprisingly doing it for him. That doesn’t mean he can’t continue to be stubborn about it though.

“Hey! What are you doing, Novak?” he asks, but no fear or anger is lacing his tone. Simply confusion and maybe a little arousal. Dean struggles a little against his professor’s hold, but it’s definitely not as much as he could be. Castiel can work with that.

“What you suggested, Dean. You don’t pay any attention to my lectures, flirt with me in front of my other students, and ruin my reputation as a teacher. Don’t you think you should be punished for that?” he asks.

Dean takes a shaky breath but settles against the desk with a sigh and nods his head. Everything Castiel was saying is true, and he has no idea if the Professor was aware that he behaved that way to create the situation they were currently in, but at that moment that didn’t matter. “Words, Dean. Tell me this is what you want. Tell me this is what is finally going to get you to behave,” he says.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see, Castiel,” he says suggestively, and Castiel can’t hold in the growl that’s been lodged in his throat since he’d seen the other man in his office. When did he find out his name?

Castiel decides that that isn’t of import at the moment. What is important is the way Dean’s underwear fits so tightly when Cas finally manages to bundle his jeans around his ankles without letting go of his wrists. Dean’s shocked as his jeans are undone and pulled down before he even realises it’s happening.

Cas hesitates for a moment, before lifting his hand to place a firm smack on one of the cheeks. Dean jumps in surprise, clearly not expecting to start so quickly, but the moan that is ripped from his throat tells Castiel that it is anything but an unwelcome surprise. He follows it in quick succession with another hit, this time to the other cheek, and Dean manages to hold back his moans by biting his lip.

“I’m not going to make you count this time, Dean. But if there has to be a next time you will, and you’ll thank me for each one, understood?” he asks, sending a shudder down Dean’s spine. When he doesn’t receive a reply he rains down to harder smacks, earning whines from Dean this time, and asks again, “Is that understood?”

Dean nods rapidly, before rushing out “Yes! Yes, I understand.” Castiel can’t help but scoff.

“Yes, who?” he asks with a smirk, another hit coming down. If Dean can call him Professor when he tries to rial him up, he can call him it with a little bit of respect behind it too.

“Yes Professor!” he whimpers, and Castiel thinks he sees his hips rocking forward against the desk, but he can’t be sure. His own cock had grown hard while watching the younger man squirm beneath him, pressing his thighs together for any ounce of freedom he can get. .

“Good boy, now are you going to start putting some effort into my classes, or do these have to come off?” he asks, pulling the waistband of Dean’s boxers away from his hip before letting them snap back into place. Dean couldn’t hide his groan this time, and Cas definitely wasn’t seeing things. Dean is rocking his hips against the desk. The thought has Cas squirming with the need to get some friction on the growing bulge in his pants.

“I- I think they have to come off,” Dean whispers, like he’s ashamed to want to go further. Castiel can’t help but smirk.

“Oh really?” he asks, sliding a finger under the waistband and trailing it along the sliver of exposed skin on Dean’s back. He hears Dean try to muffle a whimper as he speaks.

“If you send me back to classes now this is the only thing I’ll be thinking about. I’ll never pay attention,” he admits, to which Castiel has to hold back a chuckle. He too knows that this will be all Castiel can think about in future lectures with Dean in the front row. But it’s a small price to pay to finally have him over his desk.

“Ok, have it your way,” Castiel says as he pulls Dean’s boxers down to pool over his jeans at his ankles. He groans at the sight that greets him.

With Dean bent over his desk, his hole is on perfect display. It puckers as cold air meets it, and Cas can’t stop himself from gripping Dean’s wrists tighter in an effort to control himself. However, he finds it impossible to hold back from running the pad of his thumb over his hole with his free hand. And Dean must like it just as much as he does if the groan he’s greeted with is any indication.

“Do you think me spanking you is going to be enough or do you need this attitude fucked out of you?” he asks, though it’s obvious he’s asking more for consent than opinion on discipline.

“I don’t- I- spanking won’t be enough,” Dean admits, this time in a whisper. Castiel has to bite his tongue so hard that he breaks skin and blood leaks into his mouth to stop himself from moaning aloud.

“Reach over into the drawer in front of you, there should be lube and condoms,” he says, letting go of Dean’s wrists and taking hold of his hips instead. Just as Dean moves to do as he’s told, Castiel pulls him back so that his bulge rests between the other man’s cheek. Dean groans as the newfound weight pressed against him, even going so far as to grind back on him for a moment before finally opening the drawer and passing its contents back to Castiel, all without pulling up from the desk

“You treat all your students like this professor? You seemed to have that ready to go?” he asks breathlessly, and Castiel can’t be sure but he thinks he heard an undertone of jealousy in his voice.

As he works on coating two of his fingers in lube, he reassures his student otherwise. “No, I’ve just been imagining this since I laid eyes on you. I knew I’d have you eventually just wasn’t sure where. There’s some in the lecture hall too,” he says, and Dean groans as he rocks his hips involuntarily into the desk again. He reaches up now that his hands are free and takes hold of the edge of the desk.

“God, that’s hot Cas,” he whispers, and the professor can’t help but smirk. Once his fingers are thoroughly coated, he runs them over Dean’s hole again, revelling in the way the man squirms. Dean never thought he’d be into bottoming, but now that he’d here he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop Castiel from fucking him if he tried.

“You ready?” the other man asks, and Dean goes to nod before remembering Castiel’s preference for words.

“Yes, I’m ready, please Professor,” he asks, delighted by the growl that rumbles deep in Professor Novak’s chest. One finger is slowly pressed in until his knuckle rests against Dean’s rim. What a sight for sore eyes. And what a sound for sore ears as Dean moans and writhes on the desk. This is clearly a new sensation for him.

“Good?” he asks, wanting to make sure he isn’t hurting the man underneath him.

Another moan is pulled from Dean’s chest. “Yes, so good, please move,” he asks, and how can Cas say no to that? So he slowly starts thrusting his middle finger in and out, making sure to graze Dean’s prostate once he finds it.

Dean shouts when Castiel presses into a certain part of him that has him seeing stars. He can’t hold it back, it was truly a phenomenal feeling. Pleasure shot up his spine, focusing on his cock in particular. He felt it twitch against the desk beneath him as Cas grazed that spot over and over again.

Dean soon became deaf to the sounds that he was making, but Castiel revelled in them. Once Dean was loose enough and had stopped clenching on Castiel’s middle finger, he slid his ring finger in beside it.

A deep, guttural groan rose from Dean’s chest as the second finger joined the first, applying far more pressure to that spot deep inside of him. Cas began to scissor his fingers open, and Dean couldn’t help but scratch at the desk in hopes of holding on tighter. He felt like he was slipping away, and there was nothing to tether him to the ground other than the fingers his Professor had deep inside of him. He can’t help but let out pleas of “yes” and “more” under his breath as he pushes back into his professor’s movements.

When Cas manages to graduate them to three fingers it takes all of Dean’s willpower to not cry out with bliss. He’d never known a feeling like it, and he’s sure he never would again. The stretch was unbelievable; just shy of being painful, but even that pain is pleasurable. Dean’s been obsessed with Castiel’s fingers since he first laid eyes on them and now he knows why. They feel perfect everywhere they’re pressed against him.

Those on his left hand curl around his hip, holding him tightly in place as he squirms and writhes underneath his professor. His grip is strong and demanding, and Dean can only hope it’ll leave purple bruises behind for him to marvel at in days to come. He’s not 100% sure whether he’s trying to move away from the stimulation he’s getting or if he’s looking for more. Either way, Cas holds him still as the fingers on his right hand continue to caress that oversensitive spot deep inside Dean.

Those fingers really did work magic.

But all too soon they were being pulled from him, and he couldn’t hold back his whines of protest. He followed the fingers as best he could with the professor still gripping his hip, chasing after the stimulation he so desperately needed. Castiel simply shushed him and reached for the zipper of his pants. It was difficult to pull down as his fingers were already slippery with lube, but after a moment’s struggle, he managed it.

Once his zipper was down he pulled the waistband of both his pants and his boxers down just enough to pull his cock out. It twitched when it was exposed to the cold air, and Castiel sucked a breath through his teeth as the pressure relieved his dick. He stroked it once, then twice to get some form of relief, only stopping when Dean whined impatiently.

He shushed him once again, and this time reached for the foil wrapper he’d left on the desk beside Dean’s hip. His slippery fingers once again got in the way, so he tore it open with his teeth and pulled the condom out. He groaned as he rolled it down his length, which only seemed to antagonise Dean more.

“Come on, man!” he groaned with annoyance. Castiel raised his eyebrows questioningly despite Dean being unable to see it.

He moved forward so that he could rest his now-covered cock between Dean’s cheeks, right over his lubed-up hole. Dean groaned once again at the feeling, anticipating what was to come, but Castiel went no further. Instead, he rocked back and forth, grinding the length of his cock over Dean’s rim, never pushing inside. Just as Dean opened his mouth to complain, one of Cas’ hands wrapped around his throat from behind.

The tips of his wet fingers pressed into the skin at the sides of Dean’s neck, applying pressure to his pulse point without crushing his windpipe. He did push down on his windpipe with the softness of his palm only slightly, as if to provide warning as to what he could do. The image had Dean’s mind spiralling, thoughts of how he was completely at his professor’s mercy, bent over his desk with his pants around his ankles ready to be fucked. He couldn’t fucking wait.

His cock throbbed harder as Castiel used his hold on Dean’s neck to pull him up from the desk, so his back met the broad chest behind him. His neck was bent back at an awkward angle, so much so that it strained with pain, but he could only whimper as his hips involuntarily thrust forward. Castiel leaned over, resting his chin on Dean’s left shoulder as he pressed his lips to his ear, giving a breathy chuckle as he watched Dean’s hips move of their own accord.

“I will do with you as I please. You will not rush me. I will take what I want and you’re going to give it to me when I want it, am I understood?” he whispers, a deep husk lacing his tone. His breath fanned over the skin of Dean’s ear and neck, and he finished his question off with a gentle tug to Dean’s earlobe with his teeth. Dean couldn’t help but whine again, a deep redness spreading over his cheeks. He really was completely at this man’s mercy, and he fucking loved it.

“Yes, Professor,” he choked out, his voice strained due to the angle of his neck. Castiel seemed to recognise the position and let up a little. He still kept a firm grasp around Dean’s throat, applying enough pressure to send him a little lightheaded for a few seconds, but he tilted his head back down so that Dean was looking forward.

And when Dean managed to look past the tears of bliss that had built up in his eyes, he finally noticed the window that spanned the length of Castiel’s office. It faced right out onto the courtyard, where many students were meandering, stumbling to their lectures without a care in the world. No one took any notice of the sight inside the Professor’s office. No one seemed to notice Dean stood, ready to be ruined by his professor.

His breath hitched in his throat, and Professor Novak must have caught on to his worries, because he ran a soothing hand over Dean’s chest, right over his racing heart, and whispered, “Don’t worry, no one else gets to see you like this. They’re blackout windows; no one can see inside,” His voice is much gentler than before, and for some reason, this settles the fear that had taken root in Dean’s heart.

“O-ok,” he muttered, though he couldn’t tear his eyes from the window.

“Do you want to continue?” Castiel asked, and Dean shut his eyes with a blissful groan. As he refocused he could once again feel the warmth of the professor pressed against his back and the weight of his cock over where he needed him most.

“Yes, fuck yes I do,” he whispered breathlessly, and Castiel once again chuckled in his ear. Dean didn’t know what was so funny.

“I think you’ve got better manners than that, don’t you love?” he asks, and without even looking Dean knows that a sly grin has taken up residence on his face.

Dean groans, though this time with annoyance instead of arousal. “I’m not begging,” he trails off. Castiel scoffs.

“No?” he asks. When Dean shakes his head, he moves to let go of his neck and takes a step back, “Then I guess you don’t want it,” he says, revelling in the way Dean panics.

His hand flies up to meet Castiel’s wrist before he can move his hand too far away from Dean’s neck, and he pushes it back in place with a vengeance. “No!” he all but shouts in protest, and he has to swallow past the lump of newfound embarrassment in his throat to continue. “I- I do, please,” he whispers, pressing back into Cas’ chest.

The Professor reaffirms his grip on Dean’s neck, much to the younger man’s relief, and brings the other hand towards his own cock. He pressed the head to Dean’s rim, relishing in the whimper that was forced from his throat. Castiel can actually feel the vibrations of the whimper as Dean struggles to contain it, and the thought sends more blood rushing south.

“Please, what?” he asks with a smirk, waiting as Dean huffs.

“Please, Professor, fuck me, I need it so bad” he whispers, closing his eyes as though that’ll lessen any embarrassment he was due to feel.

“Good boy,” he mutters distractedly, his real focus is on making sure his cock is lined up well enough to press inside.

Dean groaned as Castiel finally pushed past his rim. He did so slowly, giving Dean time to adjust, and he was incredibly thankful. Dean hadn’t managed to look back at the professor’s cock, but now that he could feel it pressing up against the walls inside of him he could feel just how big he was.

His cock was long, pressing deeper than anything Dean had ever felt before. But he was girthy too. His Dick was stretching Dean’s rim to its limit, leaving a burning sensation. Dean couldn’t quite make out whether he wanted more, to be overwhelmed by his professor’s touch, or whether it was too much. His hands scrambled for purchase, both clawing at the hand Castiel had wrapped around his throat, pulling him impossibly closer.

Once Castiel had managed to press all the way in, his hips resting against Dean’s ass, he allowed a pleasured groan of his own to be ripped from his chest. The heat that wrapped around his cock was immense, and the tight press of Dean’s walls was enough to have his eyes rolling back in his head. His breath was punched out of him as he fought to stay still, wanting to give Dean enough time to adjust.

But his groan has Dean clenching in pleasure, and he can’t help but squeeze his eyes closed as Dean whines low in his throat at the feeling.

After a moment of pregnant silence, in which both men took a moment to steady their breathing and their thoughts, Dean nodded. But when Castiel didn’t move, he groaned and pushed his hips back, beginning to fuck himself on his Professor’s cock.

Castiel cried out in shock when Dean started to move. He had his eyes closed, partly in concentration but also to keep from mercilessly slamming into the man beneath him with abandon. He knew Dean might not be able to take that, but he felt so good enveloping Castiel. He wasn’t expecting the feeling to be this intense, but Dean continued to prove him wrong.

He pushed Dean back down so that his chest was once again flat against the desk. Then he brought Dean’s wrists back to his lower back with one hand and pinned Dean’s hips to the Desk with the other. He savours the way Dean yelps in shock, followed by a symphony of gasps and grunts as Castiel pulls back, only to slam back in a handful of times. “I told you I’ll be taking what I want and that you won’t rush me. When are you going to learn to listen?” he asks rhetorically, continuing his thrusts.

Moans and pants of pleasure were forced from Dean’s lungs as he struggled against Cas’ hold. The professor reaches up, loosening the tie from around his neck, only to bring it down and fasten it around both Of Dean’s wrists, tying them together over the small of his back. Dean keens when he realises what Castiel has done, and Cas smirks with delight knowing his student is getting off because he’s tied him up a little.

Once his hands are free, Castiel takes hold of either side of Dean’s hips and uses his grip as leverage to pull the younger man to meet him thrust for thrust. Dean all but wails as the pleasure is increased tenfold. The new angle and force of the professor’s thrusts have managed to aim the head of his cock straight for Dean’s prostate, which he now hits dead on every time he presses inside.

The stimulation is all-encompassing; it washes over Dean like a tidal wave, and he once again becomes deaf to any sounds he makes. He tunes out the world around him, focusing solely on the way the professor’s cock feels inside of him. He feels the sweat start to build on his brow, and he knows a puddle of drool is forming on the desk beneath his mouth. Almost in the same way, his untouched cock leaks a pool of pre-cum into the boxers wrapped around his ankles. He’s never been this close to coming without someone touching his cock before.

“Fuck! Fuck, Cas, harder!” he all but shouts, forgetting to care if there could be anyone in the hallway outside of Novak’s office.

Castiel does as he says, seeming to forgive him for not using the ‘professor’ moniker this time. His thrusts pick up in both speed and intensity, and Cas rejoices in the way the skin of Dean’s backside ripples every time his hips come forward. His skin has pinked, not only from Castiel’s earlier spanks but also from the slapping of skin as Cas’ hip bones slam into him.

He’s positive Dean’s hips are bruised from where they keep slamming into the edge of the desk. The Professor has had to take many minute steps forward to follow Dean as the force of his thrusts has sent the desk scraping against the floor, and he knows Dean’s hips are going to be sore for days to come.

Instead of making it any worse, he pulls out. Dean cries with dissatisfaction as pleasure is ripped from him, and he gets ready to start begging when he’s all but manhandled into flipping over. He yelps in surprise as he’s tossed on his back, laid out fully on the desk. His hands are trapped underneath him now, and it’s a little uncomfortable, but he manages to ignore it as the Professor presses back in.

“Fuck, Professor…” he sniffles, tossing his head back until it hits the desk with a thud.

Castiel struggles to free Dean’s ankles from his jeans and boxers, but he manages it. Then he tosses Dean’s trembling thighs over his shoulders and proceeds with his thrusts.

“What’s wrong, Dean? Feel good?” he asks with faux sympathy, his face forming a mocking pout as he presses against his prostate and stills.

Dean’s breaths are ragged and his chest heaves as he wrenches his eyes open to glare at his professor. Just as he’s about to ask what Castiel is playing at, he rocks his hips in gently. It’s not a full thrust; he’s merely grinding his cock head against the bundle of nerves buried deep in the man below him.

Dean’s head is once again tossed back, and his mouth opens wide in a silent scream as Castiel continues his rocking. Dean starts kicking his legs slightly in protest, as though he’s trying to angle his hips better for more friction, and Castiel can’t have that. So he goes back to thrusting, though this time it’s with much more vigour as he chases his own pleasure; reaching for his own orgasm.

He feels a great sense of satisfaction as Dean continues to moan unabashedly like he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. He pounds into him over and over, and the sight below him brings him right to the edge of his orgasm. Especially when Dean starts moaning “I’m close, so close, Cas. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t stop. Not even for a moment. But he does bring one hand from Dean’s waist to his cock, where he squeezes the base until it becomes near painful. Dean howls in pain, and tears start to roll down his cheeks.

Cas cums with a growl, his hips stuttering against Dean’s ass as he emptied himself into the condom. Dean whines over and over, and he almost has Castiel convinced that he’s crying, if not for the broken moans that tumble out between each whimper.

When he’s ridden out his high, he pulls out completely and releases his hold on Dean’s cock, much to the younger man’s relief. He steadies his breathing as he pulls Dean up by the lapels of his shirt.

He presses his mouth to Dean’s in a filthy kiss. It’s more mashing of teeth and breathing into each other’s mouths than anything, but Dean seems all too eager to lap up the attention anyway. When Cas needs to pull back for air Dean whines and chases after him, much to the professor’s delight.

“You don’t get to cum until you learn the appropriate way to behave in my lectures…” he starts, to which Dean is quickly starting to protest. But he shuts up when Castiel raises a challenging eyebrow at him. “... when you behave and get acceptable grades, I’ll bring you back in here and make you cum until you see stars. Until then, you can walk around with this little problem of yours…” he continues, reaching down to squeeze Dean’s cock just as firmly as before.

Dean groans in pain and squeezes his eyes shut, whimpering a choked, “Not small,” as Cas lets go. Cas pays him no mind as he continues with his proposition.

“...as a reminder of how not to behave with me. Am I clear?” he asks, gripping Dean’s chin to tilt his head up until their gazes meet.

Dean gets lost in his professor’s eyes for a moment. They’re so blue and he’s still filled with hormones and endorphins from not having cum yet. When Castiel repeats his question he nods frantically, whispering “Yes professor,” under his breath. He leans forward in an act of courage and catches Cas off guard with another passionate kiss, but the professor can’t say that he minds all that much.

He reciprocates the kiss, letting Dean lead it for now. When he decides that Dean’s had enough fun he takes a step back, pulling Dean to stand from the desk. His legs wobble and tremble under his weight, and Dean’s face flames with embarrassment as Castiel turns him around. He undoes the tie from around Dean’s wrists, rubbing them gently to soothe the abrasions a little, before throwing it back around his neck. Then he’s stepping even further back, leaving Dean to hold his balance on the edge of the desk, as he retrieves Dean’s clothes that he’d haphazardly thrown over his shoulder.

Dean watches with a deep crimson blush as Castiel tucks his boxers into the pocket of his trench coat. Dean had been half naked over the professor’s desk, and he had still been wearing that fucking trenchcoat? Why was that so hot?

Dean manages to pull his jeans over his shoes, but not without a struggle that Cas definitely laughs at as he makes his way to sit at his desk. The condom is pulled off and tied, thrown into the small trash can under his desk, and his cock is promptly tucked back into his suit trousers. He does his trousers back up, and once he’s righted himself he looks back up to regard the student standing on the other side of his desk.

“You may be excused, Mr. Winchester. I hope to see your grades improve,” he says with a smirk, watching as Dean struggles to tuck his still-hard cock into his jeans. The bulge there is obvious, but Dean chooses to ignore it in favour of glaring at his professor.

“I don’t know, professor…” he starts as he unlocks the door and starts to pull it open. Just before he leaves, he turns to say “... if this is what I get for bad grades I may just have to fail your course,” with a smirk.

He’s just glad he hadn’t agreed to meet up with Sam for lunch after his lecture. He’s not sure he’d have been able to explain his dishevelled appearance; he had an obvious boner tenting his jeans, which he willed to go down. His face was flushed, as was his neck, and his chest surely was too under his rumpled shirt. Cas had pulled him in by his collar and had wrinkled the fabric past the point of saving. He’d have to iron it. His lips were pink and kiss-bitten from Cas’ rough kisses. His hair was sticking up in all directions, completely untamable from the way Cas had raked his fingers through it and gripped it. And if that weren’t enough the way he limped when he showed up an hour late would have made his earlier actions all the more glaringly obvious.

Chapter Text

His phone ringing startles Dean from where he rests in bed later on that night. He’d had half a mind to reach down and finish himself off to thoughts of his professor, but he knew the satisfaction would be worth it. He was going to ace the next upcoming quiz, and he was going to have his Professor make him cum ‘so hard he saw stars’.

He looked over to the offending noise and groaned when he saw his father’s name. So not the man he wanted to speak to after the day’s events. He hadn’t bothered to call since he’d lugged Dean off to Stanford and promptly dumped him at Sam’s heels like an insolent child. What could he possibly want now?

He pulls the phone to his ear as he answers, rather sluggish at that. “What?” he asks, never one for formalities with his dad.

“What?!” his father asks incredulously, and Dean grimaces as he pulls the phone away from his ear to put it on speaker, save the gruff screaming burst an eardrum. “I pulled every string in the book to get you into that college and you don’t even turn up to the lectures?! And the ones you do manage to drag your lazy ass to you’re failing?” he seethes, anger dripping from his voice.

Dean smirks as he realises his plan may just be working.

“I told you, Dad. College isn’t for me, I work best by doing. Practical work over coursework and all that. I don’t need to be here,” he says, sitting up to get ready for an argument.

“No, clearly you don’t understand how to run a business at all. If I leave W.E. in your hands like this it’ll go under before the decade’s over!” he shouts, to which Dean scoffs.

“That’s not true! You’ve seen how I work first hand, I’m the best employee you have!” he says, waving his arms around despite the fact that John can’t see him.

But John doesn’t listen to a word he says. “Dean! Get those grades up and show me you know what you’re doing, or Sam’s taking over,” he warns, to which Dean furrows his brow.

“Sam would never do that, he wants to be a lawyer,” he scoffs. He’s found that he’s always scoffing whenever his father is concerned.

“Like hell am I going to let him be a lawyer while you run my hard work into the ground! Get your grades up or I’ll make Sam drop his law degree for a business one,” he threatens. Dean’s heart sinks, he’d never do that to his brother. It’d kill Sam if he had to work at W.E. when he was this close to being a lawyer.

“Fine,” he concedes begrudgingly. His father doesn’t bother to say anything else before he hangs up, and Dean throws his phone to the other end of the bed in frustration. He brings his knees up to rest his elbows on them, before all but slamming his face down into his hands.

Looks like he’d be attending more than just Professor Novak’s lectures after all.

He had Sam join him at a local store to buy stationery the next day. His brother had been confused at Dean’s sudden change of heart regarding his lectures, but he’d merely brushed it off with a comment about ‘wasting time doing nothing.’ Sam hadn’t believed him and had pestered him for the real answer, but he couldn’t find it in himself to tell his little brother what was happening.

He couldn’t afford a laptop, so he had to stick with the standard notebooks and pens. He got three notebooks for each course and a pack of 10 pens, along with the highlighter that Sam deemed necessary to have. Sam was quick to tell him that those would last him all of maybe two semesters, three at a push if he was really going to be putting effort in.

For the next few days, Dean attended every lecture for every one of his courses. Aside from Professor Novak, he had two other professors; Ellen Harvell and Dick Roman. Professor Roman was living up to his name, he was a real egotistical piece of work. He’d only been in his first lecture for 10 minutes before he thought of more entertaining things to occupy himself with, like gouging his eyes out with a spoon.

Ellen wasn’t bad, she gave off strict but loving mother vibes. She was concerned with Dean’s absences, and he made up some excuses about not being able to arrive earlier due to a family emergency. Dick hadn’t even noticed Dean had just started, which was for the best because Dean was not sure he could deal with his not-so-subtle sarcastic jibes.

A week later his once-empty dorm desk was now overtaken by piles of textbooks and scattered pens. Sticky notes with scribbled writing are stuck to nearly every available surface, and some stick haphazardly from between the pages of textbooks and notebooks. He’s sitting on his desk chair, balanced only by a folded-up wad of paper under one of the front legs, scribbling in a notebook when he realises the time. He has 8 minutes to walk to the other side of campus to make it to Castiel’s lecture. And he doesn’t intend to be late.

He hurriedly stuffs some pens and his notebook into his bag, alongside his textbook before throwing it over his shoulder before he rushes for the door. He’s quick to run back though when he realises his phone still sits left forgotten on the desk. He stuffs it into his pocket, making sure he has his dorm key before making his way out.

A few people wave or call out greetings as he passes them, and he rushes out a response without stopping to see who he’s talking to. Spending so much time loitering in the dorms at the beginning of the semester meant that he’d met plenty of new people, but he barely remembered any of their names. Not that they mattered.

Today was the day Castiel was supposed to be giving out his ‘make-up’ quiz. None of the other students knew of it, and he refused to tell Charlie or Benny in case they asked him how he knew. Either way, he couldn’t be late to take this quiz, so he jogged past other students in the courtyard and dodged those who blocked the hallways as he sped to Castiel’s lecture hall. He made it just in time.

Professor Novak wasn’t there yet, but both Benny and Charlie were. He huffed a sigh, breathing ragged as he tried to get it back under control from his momentary exercise. They both looked at him with confusion in their eyes, but he waved them off and dug through his bag to pull his things out. Both had been shocked when Dean did a full 180 and started paying attention in his lessons, but he’d made up some excuse much like he had with Sam. Charlie seemed to buy it, but Benny had raised an incredulous brow. He kept quiet about it when Dean shot him a glare that would put him six feet under if looks could kill.

Charlie and Benny went back to their earlier conversation as Dean threw his notebook, textbook and pens out, digging through scraps of paper and receipts in the bottom for a highlighter too. Just as he’d gotten everything out and sat back, Professor Novak walked in with a stack of papers.

Everyone else groaned when they saw what he was carrying, but Dean knew what it was and felt excitement stirring in his gut. It was finally time to show Castiel the ‘effort’ he’d been putting in.

The professor walked around the room depositing empty quiz sheets to each student. When he made it to Dean he slid a paper over with a knowing smirk, which Dean reciprocated easily. Once Castiel had moved on to other students, Dean looked down at the paper and took note of some of the questions. These ones are a little harder than before, which Dean supposes he should have expected. Of course, things would get more difficult as the course progressed.

However, when Professor Novak told everyone to start and sat at his desk doing work of his own, Dean felt himself powering through it. There were one or two questions which he skimmed over, leaving them for the end as they required a little more thought, but the others were a breeze. And he found that when he went back to the skipped questions, the answers from some of the others helped him to answer them. There was only one that he was a little unsure of, but he’s learnt from the past that when he overthinks it and changes his answers he usually had the correct one to begin with.

That’s why school isn’t his thing. The material and the knowledge come to him easily, much to the surprise of his brother and father, it’s the exams and written work that throws him off. He’s always managed to breeze through his exams, but when he has extra time he overthinks himself into a spiral of doubt and self-consciousness which usually leaves him to fuck things up. And with the written work, he knows what he wants to say in his head, he'd just never been very good at articulating it into words on a page. That’s usually where he drops marks.

So, instead of spending his last few minutes overthinking his answers, he thinks of Sam. he rests his head on his folded arms, which rest over his test paper on the desk. He needs to ace this, and everyone that comes after it, for every subject. He can’t fail Sammy like that. He can’t fuck this up.

He recalls the phone call with his father and shakes his head with a sigh. What kind of an asshole would do that to his own son? John is fully aware that Sam has dreamt of nothing but becoming a lawyer ever since he knew what one was. Sam has done nothing but put his very essence, every drop of effort and motivation into achieving his dream, and it’s such an admirable thing. Having a lawyer for a son is something that John should be extremely proud of; something that he should thank the heavens and whoever’s listening for. Instead, he threatens to ruin his son’s future and destroy their relationship over something so trivial as Dean’s college education? What does that matter? Why can’t he leave Sam to be happy and one of the smartest kids he’s ever known? Why must he threaten to punish him for Dean’s insubordination?

But that’s exactly what he should expect. Punishing Dean directly has never done much for John. Never achieved anything substantial. Sam may look like a kicked puppy every time their father so much as mentions the word ‘disappointed’ but Dean has never cowered from it. He’s never done as his father says simply because he should ‘respect his elders’ or because John’s ‘his father and deserves to be listened to’ or because ‘I’m right, boy, so just listen for once’.

Punishing Sam has been the only thing to ever get through to Dean. Seeing his brother upset is the only thing that’s ever managed to rattle his cage or make him listen, so of course his father would make that his first choice. Of course, his father would resort to that immediately. He didn’t even hesitate before threatening to ruin Sammy’s career, his life, and his future, simply because Dean wouldn’t bend over backwards to appease him. Simply because Dean dared to have wishes of his own for how his life should go, and they didn’t match up with John’s. They never have. They never would. He’d always be John’s lackey, left to pick up his messes while Sam went out to live his most prosperous life.

And he’d do it happily. If it meant that Sam could wake up every morning doing something he loved. If Sam went about his life with a smile on his face, with no worries about how the day would turn out, Dean would wake up every day and groan as he got ready for work. He’d suffer through a bitter coffee, drive his shitty car to work because Dean would only ever be allowed to touch the Impala when John was dead and struggle his way through a day’s worth of uninteresting work. If Sam got to have the life of his dreams, Dean would rot in a life from his nightmares.

Dean hadn’t realised just how upset he’d gotten until his suddenly blurry vision cleared, and a balled-up tear rolled down his cheek. He was quick to wipe it away, hoping no one had noticed, but when he looked up and met Professor Novak’s eyes, he knew he’d been caught red-handed. Castiel had a solemn look on his face, and he was doing that puppy thing where he tilted his head to the side in confusion. His brows were drawn in with concern and his mouth was open as though he was going to ask what was wrong when he realised they weren’t alone.

Dean gave a watery smile, trying to ease the newfound tension between them. He didn’t need to fuck things up with his professor as well, that might be the only positive thing going for him.

He sat and listened to the scratching of other students’ pens as he avoided eye contact with Castiel. His tears had dried by the time Charlie had finished beside him. She sat back and looked at him with a triumphant smile on her face, so he sent her one back. She hadn’t seemed to notice the lingering sadness in his eyes which he was happy about, he didn’t think he could sit through her concerned questioning about this.

Castiel watched as the pair talked with their eyes. The sadness in Dean’s eyes faded, but never completely disappeared. Cas could also see the exhaustion in his eyes. He had dark circles under them and his eyes seemed to stare into nothingness every once in a while, almost like Dean didn’t have enough energy to stay focused on the present. Was he not sleeping?

Regardless, Castiel drew his gaze away from the other man when their eyes met once again. He didn’t want to be caught staring at Dean, either by other students in the class or the man himself. He couldn’t be caught daydreaming about and staring at a student, he’d surely be fired faster than he could blink. And he didn’t want to scare Dean off by focusing too much attention on him.

Dean seemed the sort to enjoy, and even thrive under, attention when he was looking for it. But when he didn't want to be noticed Cas thinks he’d scarper the first chance he could if any unwanted attention was aimed his way. Especially if that attention had any semblance of concern in it. Castiel didn’t want him to scarper. He wanted him right where he was, close enough to keep an eye on without arousing suspicion.

He found himself questioning why he felt the way he did. He had never felt this concerned with a student’s well-being before. Of course, if something seemed wrong with any of his students he asked and made sure they were ok, but he forgot about it easily enough. So why did Dean’s apparent exhaustion and upset twist his stomach so much? Why was there a ball of anxiety in his chest which he couldn't will away? Why did his thoughts seem to spiral with ‘what ifs’ regarding Dean’s well-being? Why did he care so deeply for him when he’d only known him for a short while?

His thoughts were interrupted when the end of the hour came, marking the end of the lecture, it was safe to say Cas was a little miffed. There was something troubling Dean, that much he was certain of, but if it was affecting his sleep it would likely affect his studies. He needed to make sure that didn’t happen. He knew this was Dean’s final lecture of the day, so he didn’t feel that bad when he stood from his desk chair and made his way over, collecting passing student’s papers on the way. “Are you able to come to my office once you’ve packed up?” he asked.

Dean knew that it was a question, which he could very well say no to, but it sounded more like a demand. The look in Castiel’s eyes promised punishment if he refused, and for a moment he was tempted to go through with it. But when he really looked, there seemed to be nothing sexual in his gaze, and for a moment Dean really wondered if there was an academic punishment headed his way.

So, instead of being a brat and telling Castiel he was ‘busy’ he nodded and finished stuffing his things into his bag. The professor continued making his way around the lecture hall, collecting papers and answering student’s questions as he did. Just as Dean slipped his backpack onto his shoulder, Charlie’s voice startled him. For a moment, he had truly forgotten she was even there.

“What was that about? What have you done?” she asked. He shrugged his shoulders as Benny too raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I genuinely have no idea. Maybe he’s noticed I’m actually paying attention now and wants to make sure I haven’t been replaced by aliens or something,” he said, making his way to the door with them.

Charlie shrugged her head to the side and said, “Maybe, to be fair I thought you had been for a moment. I’m still not sure you’re you.” she squinted her eyes as though she was analysing him, and Benny chuckled beside her.

“Easy, red, I don’t think he’s been swapped out yet. And if he has you don’t want him to know you’re onto him, he might getcha with eye lasers or something,” he said, whispering the last part loud enough for all of them to hear.

Charlie nodded and backed away all seriously, but there was a hint of a smile on her face, “That’s true, could be dangerous.”

“Ha ha, very funny. Go away before I find something to shoot you with,” he warned with an eye roll. Both of his friends snicker as they turn to the hall that leads to the cafeteria. They bid each other their farewells, and Dean heads in the opposite direction towards the offices.

He made it there before Castiel did, so he tried the door and found it locked, because why wouldn’t it be? So instead he leaned against the wall beside the door and waited, but it wasn’t long before the professor came struggling down the hall himself.

His trenchcoat was shrugged haphazardly over his shoulders and was beginning to slip down onto his arms. His briefcase dangled from a few fingers of his right hand and swayed with every step he took. There were multiple stacks of papers in his arms, and they’d all fallen and were staggered against each other. They all towered high enough to reach his chin, which he was resting on top in hopes of stabilising everything, though he wasn’t doing a good job.

Dean had no idea why, but he rushed forward once he saw him, and took some things off him to alleviate his load. Once a stack of papers was safely tucked into Dean’s arms Cas sighed. “Thank you, I dislike making more than one trip. It seems counterproductive,” he said.

Dean followed him back the way he’d come towards the office door. “Nah, me neither, I’d rather struggle for one trip than take two easy ones,” he said, to which the professor nodded his agreement.

“Oh,” the professor said, staring dumbly at his door.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I’ve locked the door,” Castiel said, to which Dean nodded.

“Yes, people usually do that when they leave their stuff unattended in a room. It requires a key to unlock it,” he replied, to which Cas turned to glare at him.

“I’m aware of that, Dean,” he scoffed, and Dean struggled not to grin.

“Also, the person who locks the door typically has the keys needed to unlock it,” he remarked, which left Cas to deepen his glare.

“I’m aware of that, too.” he grunted.

“So… what are we waiting for?” he asked, motioning to the door expectantly.

“My hands are full, and my keys are in my pocket. If I put the papers down on the floor they’ll spill everywhere. You have to get my keys,” he says, and Dean could feel his face heating up. Castiel watched as a sweet pink tinted Dean’s cheeks and couldn’t help but smile. The man he’d had bent over his desk was blushing at the mere thought of having to rifle around in his pocket for him.

“Oh, uh, alright, which one?” he asked, stepping closer and shifting the small stack of papers he had into one hand.

“I’m not sure, you’ll have to have a feel,” he said. He watched Dean’s flush redden as he deadpan glared at his professor. Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“Fine, ok,” Dean said. He turned Cas around and immediately dived into his back pockets. When he found no keys, only a wallet, he spun the professor around again and dug through the front ones. It was in the front left pocket that he found the professor's phone, but the front right where he found the keys. He dug them out with the same triumphant smile on his face he’d had when finishing the quiz early, and turned to unlock the door.

Castiel followed his student into his office, and very ungracefully dropped the multitude of papers onto his desk. Dean put his own pile down, and straightened it as best he could, while Castiel got himself comfortable in his desk chair. He draped his trench coat over the back, then took his tie off and undid the top few buttons of his shirt. Before he could start though, Dean was firing questions his way.

“Why am I here, anyway? You’ve not marked that quiz so I know I’m not here for that reward you promised yet, and I haven’t done anything wrong to warrant a punishment of the fun nor the boring variety, so forgive me for being a little confused,” he rambled, still fiddling with the piles of papers on the desk.

“You were crying, I wanted to ask if you were alright, maybe ask what was going on if you’re willing to tell me?” he asked. He received no response for quite a while but remained patient as he waited. Again, he didn’t want to scare him off.

“I’m fine, nothing’s wrong, nothing to tell,” he eventually said, but there wasn’t a single cell in his body that believed what Dean had said, and Dean clearly knew it. Dean didn’t believe a word of it himself.

“We both know that’s not true,” he said softly, watching as Dean scoffed and folded the corner of one of the papers, before unfolding it again. He repeated the movement as Cas continued. “You don’t have to tell me-” he started, and Dean scoffed again.

“Damn right I don’t,” to which Castiel tilts his head like a confused puppy again. That’s really starting to get to Dean.

“-but I don’t like seeing you upset in my classes.” he finished. That’s when Dean finally looks at him, and Cas can see the beginning of tears forming in his eyes, but he knows well enough that they’re tears of frustration and not upset.

“Why do you care?! You’re just my professor, we’re not even friends! It’s not like I disrupted anybody; no one but you noticed,” he argues, and Cas takes a deep breath. So much for not scaring him off.

“That’s not the point I’m trying to make Dean-” he starts, but Dean cuts him off again.

“Fine, won’t happen again, happy?!” he asks sarcastically, turning to make his way to the door.

“Dean?” he said, stopping him in his tracks. When all he received was a hum in response, he sighed. “Come here, please,” he said, pointing between his feet. He’d turned the desk chair to face the side instead of his desk, so Dean had plenty of room to stand in front of him.

Dean did as he was told, though rather begrudgingly, and moved to stand in front of him. He did so with a huff and crossed arms, once again refusing to meet his eyes, and Castiel couldn’t help but think he reminded him of a kitten. He tried to make himself seem so angry and volatile, but the most he’d managed was to make himself seem small and dejected.

Castiel gently lifted his hand, slow enough and obvious enough that Dean could back away if he wanted. He didn’t. So Cas softly took his jaw between his fingers and tilted his head up. When their eyes met Cas’ heart broke a little at the tears he refused to let fall, but he didn’t let his sympathy show on his face. Dean would surely feel judged and emasculated, and that was the opposite of what Cas was trying to achieve.

“Let me rephrase. I don’t like seeing you upset. End of sentence. Doesn’t just have to be in my lectures, just in general. I dislike it. I care. I’m not expecting you to tell me what’s going on if you don’t want to; you’re a private person, I get it. I know that these are tears of frustration and exhaustion rather than of upset. I can tell you haven’t been sleeping, which isn’t helping. I called you in here to tell you that I’m here if you wanna tell me what’s going on, and I’m here even if you don’t. Am I understood?” he asks.

While he was speaking a tear fell from Dean’s eyes, so Cas gently used the thumb of the hand already holding him to wipe it away, which made Dean sniffle. Cas once again has a hard time not seeing a kicked puppy but ignores it.

“Yes,” he whispers, voice too wobbly to manage anything louder.

“Yes?” he asks, looking to make sure Dean actually heard him. He wasn’t expecting the answer he got.

“Yes, professor, I understand,” he answered, nodding slightly with his voice still quiet. Cas raises an eyebrow, shocked to hear the title used like this, but takes it in stride. If that’s what Dean needs to keep grounded he’ll take it and run with it.

“Good boy, now do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks.

Dean’s eyes seem to unfocus as he thinks, genuinely deliberating what he wants to do.

“I’m- I’m not sure, really. I-” he starts, and Cas cuts his panicking off before he manages to get any more wound up.

“OK, why don’t you think about it?” he asks, and Dean nods. “Good, come here,” he says, sitting back in his seat and pulling Dean closer. He tugs his bag from his shoulder and places it on the floor beside his briefcase. Somewhere deep in his subconscious, he thinks they look good together. Dean looks confused, but when Castiel looks at him expectantly he seems to understand.

“I’m not a child, I don’t need to sit in your lap to feel better. I have things to- Cas!” He starts rambling, looking for every excuse possible as Castiel pulls Dean down to straddle him. They’re face to face, chests pressed together when Cas grabs Dean’s thighs and pulls his legs to wrap around his hips and dangle beside them. The tips of his toes only just touch the floor when he flexes his foot and his face blooms with redness as Cas uses the grip on his thighs to pull him even closer. “What are you doing?” he splutters.

“You are going to nap, right here, where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re listening. Because I can see how sleep-deprived and exhausted you are, and I don’t trust that you’ll actually sleep should I send you back to your dorm. While you do I’m going to grade this mountain of papers. When you wake up, you can decide whether you’d like to tell me or not. Either is fine with me. Am I understood?” he asks again.

He expects the same response as before, but Dean simply rolls his watery eyes with a huff and slumps down into Castiel’s shoulder. Cas smiles as Dean’s weight settles against his chest with a sigh, and turns the chair they’re in to face the desk. Dean brings his hands up to grip Cas’ arms in shock, not expecting the movement, and Cas rubs a soothing hand up and down his back as he pulls a pen out of the pot on his desk. “Scared me, man,” he mumbles, loosening his grip and eventually dropping his hands.

“Sorry sweetheart, you’re okay, I got you,” he comforts absentmindedly, missing the way Dean flushes to the tips of his ears from the nickname.

He pulls the first paper towards him and sighs as he gets to work. This had always been one of his favourite aspects of being a professor; the mindless task of grading papers. Eventually, it became a rhythm, his movements automatic as he ticked or crossed things out, adding notes where he needed to.

One hand scribbled notes onto the page, the other either rubbed up and down Dean’s back, or ran through his hair. But his movements stopped when he felt Dean’s entire weight press down onto him. When Castiel looked he was asleep, completely gone to the world. The worry lines all but vanished as his face smoothed out with the blissful peace of sleep. His face looked softer, which helped to highlight how young he was.

His lips looked softer too. They sat apart slightly as soft breaths escaped them, and Castiel couldn't help but admirably run his thumb over Dean’s full bottom lip, gently so as to not wake him. He was right, they were soft.

He reached behind him, minimising his movements as much as possible to not jostle the man in his lap, and pulled his trenchcoat forward. He draped it over Dean’s back, tucking it tightly around him between their chests to keep him warm. Dean seemed to settle further into him, sighing at the newfound warmth as he did so. Cas smiled as he watched, then got back to work.

He was pleased to find that Dean got everything right on his quiz and left it to the side in its own pile after he had marked it. He’d show the younger man when he woke up. Hopefully, that would make him feel a little happier and would lessen the stress of whatever it was that was troubling Dean.

Chapter Text

When Dean wakes up his neck is a little stiff, and he’s incredibly warm. It takes him a moment to remember what happened. He fell asleep in his professor’s lap like a chick. How embarrassing. How had he allowed Castiel to talk him into sitting in his lap like a child who needed soothing? How had he so easily allowed himself to just let go the second his professor looked him in the eyes? Like some lovesick fool.

He’s not even known this professor for more than 3 months and he’s already doing as he’s told? How pathetic. He’d all but tripped over his own two feet to make Cas happy with him, and if that meant folding over like a lawn chair and snuggling into the older man like a kitten, apparently he was willing to do it.

He groaned as he cracked his eyes open, and was confused when he realised he wasn’t where he fell asleep. He’d fallen asleep in Cas’ lap, wrapped in his trenchcoat on his desk chair.

However, he’d woken up on the couch at the side of the office. More specifically, he’d woken up laid chest to chest with Castiel on the couch in the office. His head was tucked just under his professor’s chin, and he could hear a steady heartbeat where his ear was pressed to his chest. Cas’ arms are wrapped around his waist, his hands pressing warmth into his spine under his trench coat, which is still draped over his back. His own hand is resting on Castiel’s chest next to his head, and it rises and falls alongside every breath the other man takes.

Sleepy breaths, because Castiel is asleep. His eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful in his sleep. He looks just as gorgeous now as he does when he’s awake, but the sternness that usually lingers isn’t there. The concern and stress that usually furrows his brows are gone, replaced by a peacefulness Dean wished he could achieve. A small smile, barely there; blink and you’d miss it, sits in place of a frown, and Dean glares at it.

He glares because every time Castiel had aimed that small smile at him over the past few weeks he’d felt the need to freeze. That smile had made him bend over backwards to make Castiel happy with him. He’d started to behave and do as he was told for god sake. No one’s been able to do that before, not even his own father nor his brother.

He questions how he’s going to get out of this. He needs to leave before Castiel wakes up. He hates that he was so sensitive before he fell asleep, his professor’s stupid blue eyes had eaten away at him and with his lack of sleep, he’d broke. He’d very nearly spilled all of his secrets and now he was expected to actually go through with it. He has to be vulnerable and tell Cas all his personal problems and daddy issues and right now it hits too close to home. It’s too soon and the wound is still too fresh, he’s not ready to go through with it. At least not yet.

So instead he slowly reaches behind him and takes Cas’ hand in his. He’s hesitant as he slowly pulls it away. He sighs at the loss of warmth, missing it the moment it’s gone. Still, he gently puts Castiel’s hand down and starts to move the other away. He once again regrets the loss of the pressure from his professor’s hand, but he pushes past it.

Once he’s free from Cas’ grip, he pushes himself up slowly, lessening his weight on Castiel bit by bit so as to not disturb him. When he’s sure that he won’t wake up, he steps off the couch. Cas’ coat falls from his shoulders and onto the floor, so he gingerly bends to pick it up. He’d honestly forgotten that it was on his back in the first place. When he picks it up he wonders about where he should put it, before looking at his sleeping professor and deciding immediately.

He hates that it makes him soft, that somewhere deep down he for some reason cares. Nevertheless, he softly drapes the coat over his sleeping form watching with a slight chuckle as Castiel pulls the coat closer and tucks it under his chin. He watches with bated breath as Cas stirs a little in his sleep, and sighs with relief when he settles.

He looks around the room, finds his phone on the desk, and picks it up hoping it has some charge. He finds it on 37% and decides it's better than nothing. He also finds a text from Sam. The timestamp’s from 18 minutes ago asking him to meet for lunch because he ‘needs to talk.’

His first thought is that his father has said something, but Dean’s done as he’s asked, so surely not? But Sam seems upset. What else would upset Sam than his father making him drop law? He’s done everything he could to avoid this and his father had done it anyway? He just hopes that his dad hasn’t told Sam that it was his idea, Sam would never forgive him. He’d fix it, he just needed time to talk to John. but he needed to talk to Sam first.

He texts him back and tells him he’s on his way before he pockets his phone. His bag is still sitting beside Castiel’s briefcase, and he finds that he loves the contradiction in how they look together. The briefcase seems too formal, so incredibly mature beside his tattered backpack, and he revels in the contradiction. They have no business being next to each other yet there they sit.

He throws it over his shoulder and starts to walk to the door as quietly as he can. But before he gets there his eyes land on his professor again, and he can’t just leave. He can’t walk out on him without saying anything, not with the way he’d shown how much he cared before. But he also didn’t want to wake him.

Instead, he searches Cas’ desk for something to write on, finding a severely diminished stack of Post-it notes. He fishes a pen out of the pot and starts to write. The pen doesn’t work the first time so he scratches it back and forth a bunch of times until it starts working. When it does he scribbles his note down.

Castiel, needed to go meet Sam for lunch, didn’t want to wake you. Will tell you what happened later, but there’s no need for a heart-to-heart chick flick moment. Thanks for today. Dean.

He hesitated when writing that last bit. He didn’t even want to mention what had happened, but he couldn’t not. He leaves the note where Cas will find it, gives him one last look, and then leaves. He takes a deep breath once he’s shut the door behind himself, and makes his way to the cafeteria where Sam is sure to be waiting.

If Sam ‘needs to talk’ because their dad has done some stupid shit like changing his law degree to a business one, Dean may actually go insane. He may actually kill him. He’s done everything he can to make sure his father chose him to continue the family business. Not because he wanted to, but because he knew Sam didn’t want to. Because he knew Sam would do anything to become a lawyer, and Dean wanted nothing more than for his brother to go far in life. If everything he had done up until this point was rendered useless because his dad had thrown a tantrum he’d go ballistic.

His thoughts are even further solidified in his brain when he makes it to the cafeteria and spots Sam sitting alone and rather solemnly at one of the tables. He pushes his salad around with the awful excuse of a plastic fork with a kicked puppy expression on his face. It even looks like there may be tears in his eyes. He was going to go to prison for murder, that much he was sure of.

“Sammy? What’s going on?” he asks, throwing himself into the seat across from his brother, concern written all over his face.

Sam looks up at him then, only just noticing his arrival, and sniffles a little. The tears in his eyes reflect the ceiling lights and Dean fights the urge to get upset himself.

“It’s- uh- it’s Eileen,” he starts. Dean is ashamed to admit that he breathes a sigh of relief at that. So his father hadn’t said or done anything stupid. Sam was still taking his law degree and Dean was still set to take on W.E. Then that relief dissipated when he realised that Sam was still upset and it was because of his girlfriend.

“What about her? She okay?” he asks, his mind immediately assuming the worst. His brother didn’t often display his upset so easily, opting for anger first, so whatever was happening was serious. He’s not all that close to Eileen himself, but she makes Sam happy, and she’s been nothing but kind, so he doesn’t want any harm headed her way.

When Sam nods he sighs in relief once again and leaves a pregnant pause for his brother to fill in the blanks. He takes a moment to think about what he wants to say, still playing with his food as he does, before he explains.

“She’s been offered the TA job at a hard-of-hearing school that she’s wanted for years,” he says, and Dean smiles. This is great! Good for her! Just as he’s about to say as much, he notices the look on Sam’s face and decides to stay quiet. “She never thought she’d get the job, which is why she worked so hard on this one. It’s also why she got so close to me in the first place,” he says, his voice shaky.

“Sorry, Sammy, I don’t follow, what’s wrong with that? She’s worked hard for it, she’s achieving her dreams and whatnot, what’s so bad about that?” he asks, watching his brother intently for his answer.

“The school is in Michigan, Dean. It could not be further away. The University of Michigan is in the top 5 most inclusive schools in America for deaf and hard-of-hearing students, she’s really lucky to have been offered a TA role there to begin with, actually getting it is huge!” he huffs, stabbing at some of his rabbit food. Dean grimaces. Now he knows why it’s so bad.

“Well, further away would be China, but sure,” he says, trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t work. Sam sends a watery glare his way, and Dean sends him a pitiful smile in return.

“Not funny, Dean,” he mutters.

“Sorry,’ he replies meekly. He’s really bad at this chick-flick stuff, isn’t he? How was he supposed to have this conversation with Cas when he can’t even cheer up Sam? He chastises himself, now is not the time, and turns his focus back to his brother.

“OK, well, Michigan. That’s still America, right? You could visit! When you get your fancy law degree and you’re making the big bucks as a lawyer I’m sure flying out to visit your girlfriend on your private jet will be no problem for ya! You can make it work!” he says. Sam huffs with an eye roll and Dean scoffs in return. Why did he ask to talk if he didn’t want help coming up with solutions?

“Well when does she leave? You should spend as much time with her as you can before she goes, long distance is hard. You’re not going to be seeing a lot of her, so best to do it as much as you can now, right?” he suggests, cringing as Sam looks more upset with every word he says.

“She’s already gone, Dean! She got the email this morning and left right after she told me. She said that she couldn’t do long distance and broke everything off,” he sighed.

Dean understood then and frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry Sammy. Anything I can do?” he asks. When Sam shakes his head with a sniffle Dean feels like he’s been punched in the chest. His brother is hurting and there’s nothing he can do about it. His brother is crying because his girlfriend’s left him and Dean doesn’t know how to comfort him.

“You wanna come by my dorm and watch something to take your mind off it?” he asks after a while. He’s awful at comforting people, but he can sit in silence and watch a movie if it’ll help Sam. When his brother nods it’s his turn to sigh, at least he can do something.

They eat in silence for a while, Dean having gotten up to find something at least mildly edible.

“That’s not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about though,” Sam says. His tears have dried by now, and Dean is thankful. He’s not sure he could handle seeing them anymore.

“Sure, what’s up?” he asks, taking a bite of his burger while he waits for Sam to work up the courage to spit out whatever it is he wants to ask.

“You’re- bi right?” he asks. Dean has never explicitly hidden his sexuality from Sam as he did their father. He knew Sam would never judge, he just didn’t feel the need to tell him unless something got serious with the guy he was seeing, and it never got past the bedroom with any of them, so he never did. He also knew Sam wouldn’t tell their dad, he’d also seen the way the man blew up at just the mention of something so ‘unnatural’.

“Yeah, why?” he asks, once he’s swallowed his bite of burger. Sam hates it when he talks with his mouth full.

“Is there a difference when a man hits on you to a woman?” he asks, and Dean raises an eyebrow with a smirk. Is this going where he thinks it’s going?

“Sammy, are you asking me how to hit on a guy?” he asks, humour lacing his tone.

“What?! No!” he splutters, and Dean revels in the way his face flames immediately. He so is. “No! I think a guy’s hitting on me, he’s acting weird, but I’m not sure if that’s just his normal,” he says.

Dean raises an incredulous eyebrow but drops it when Sam glares at him,

“Ok, what do you mean he’s acting weird?” he asks, putting his burger down to listen wholly to Sam.

“I don’t even know, man. He was never like this before today. But he was making suggestive jokes, like innuendoes, but no one else seemed to pick up on them so I don’t know if I’m just overthinking things.” he explains, finally eating some of the food he’s been pushing around his plate for the last half hour.

“Well, flirting from a man can be different than flirting from a woman, but it can also be the same. It depends on what kind of person they are, what’s he like?” he asks, and Sam sighs very dramatically.

“He’s the epitome of drama, every word he says is sarcastic, and he knows how to lie to get out of every situation he’s in. In other words he’s an annoyance, a nuisance, and-” he rambles, stopping himself short.

“-and what?” he asks. Sam seems almost embarrassed to tell him, which Dean makes him want to know even more. He waits impatiently, watching Sam squirm in his seat.

“He’s- he’s my pre-law professor,” he says with a grimace, and Dean doesn’t know whether to be shocked or to smirk at the irony.

“You have the hots for your annoying professor, who is openly flirting with you?” he asks, and Sam groans once again. Was it really the best idea to seek out Dean’s advice?

Dean had met the professor before once in passing because Sam was meeting Eileen in the lecture room and he had been there too. When he thinks back to it, the professor wasn’t looking at Sam in a way that was all too platonic, but he’d paid it no mind at the time. Sam was happy with the TA, nothing would happen with the professor.

“He’s not flirting! Or at least, I don’t think he is. He’s always been weird but he’s now being a different type of weird, and I don’t know what it means. Kevin said he’s hitting on me but I don’t believe him that’s why I asked you. We don’t know what it looks like when a guy flirts with another guy,” he explains, taking a sip of his water. Honestly, who even bothers with water these days?

“You’ll have to show me or something, he could just be being weird, but he might not be. He might be an awkward flirt, who knows? What’s his name again?” he asks.

“Gabriel, doesn’t let us call him professor or anything. I don’t even know his last name, I think it’s Arch or something though,” he says trailing off at the end.

“Who cares what his last name is, I’ll have to sneak into one of your lectures or something and watch what he’s like with you. You might have a boyfriend on your hands, Sammy,” he teases, watching the way Sam’s face pinks.

“No I don’t, I’m not dating my professor, dating Eileen was already pretty risky and I’m not going to rebound onto him,” he sneers, squinting his eyes at his brother.

“Your loss,” Dean shrugs. Sam tilts his head at him, as though he’s trying to read between the lines, as though Dean’s sending him a secret message, and for a minute he even thinks he is. Is he trying to subtly hint at his relationship with Castiel to Sam? Then he internally shakes his head. No, of course not. He doesn’t want Sam to know what he’s doing with his professor behind closed doors. And besides, this thing with Castiel, whatever it is, is most certainly not a relationship. He doesn’t do relationships, especially not with men when his father could hear rumours of it.

Castiel doesn’t feel that way about him anyway.

Chapter Text

It takes a few days before Dean finds the courage to face Castiel. The professor approached him after the past two lectures that he’d attended and he’d found a way to avoid going back to his office with him. But the lingering looks he sends him when he leaves the lecture hall is telling enough, and he knew he’d have to face him sometime soon.

Which is why he finds himself meandering down the halls to Castiel’s office after he finishes his final lecture with Dick Roman for the week. He’s close to seething from how ignorant his professor is, and it’s probably not the best time to be having this conversation with Castiel, but he needs to get it over with. He needs to get it off his mind, off his chest, before he bursts. He needs to dive off the deep end.

So, he stands in front of Castiel’s office door, listening to the man inside as he talks to himself quietly. It’s dark outside, the winter sun having set early. His hand shakes around the bottle of Scotch Whiskey as he raises it to check the time. 6:38 P.M. He uses his now raised hand to knock on the door and waits with bated breath. He can do this. After a moment’s silence, Cas calls out “Come in,” absentmindedly. Dean pushes the door open hesitantly and takes a deep breath once he’s fully visible in the doorway.

Castiel looks up and surprise overtakes his features. After a second of silent mutual eye contact, the surprise leaves Castiel’s face and is instead replaced by recognition and relief. “Dean. Come sit down,” he says, gesturing at the chair.

Dean slowly moves over to the chair, and once he’s sat with his bag at his feet, he gently rests the bottle of Whiskey on the desk between them. “I’m going to be needing this if we’re going to have this conversation,” he says.

Castiel nods slowly, and he seems to think about it before opening one of his desk drawers and pulling out two glasses. He slowly sets one down in front of Dean, then puts the other in front of himself. “Well, what kind of person would I be to let you drink alone?” he asks.

Dean shrugs and pops the cork on the bottle before pouring them both a generous amount. Castiel picks his glass up and takes a slow sip. Dean on the other hand swallows his entire drink in one gulp, winces and tops up his glass again.

“My dad is an A-class asshole,” Dean starts. He avoids eye contact, opting to instead stare at the swirling whisky in his glass, so he doesn’t see Castiel’s reaction to his words. But he hears a hum of confirmation that he’d heard him so he continues. “Anytime I so much as step a foot out of line; do something he doesn’t want me doing, he threatens me with Sammy,” he sighs.

“Sam is your brother?” Castiel asks, and Dean nods with clarification. “How does he use your brother to threaten you?” he asks, and Dean is surprised to find his tone is oddly calm, almost cold.

He finally gains the courage to look up and make eye contact with his professor, and when he does he’s shocked to see that his facial expression does not mimic his tone of voice at all. His voice had been almost apathetic, and Dean could tell that Castiel was trying not to show his emotions, but a fire born from simmering rage burned in his eyes, his brow was set in a hard frown, and his lips were downturned.

“Sam has always made it his life’s goal to become a lawyer. He’s wanted it since he was little, and now he’s in pre-law here. I have no idea what I want to do so I agreed to take on Winchester Enterprises for my father so that Sam could follow his dreams. Business has always come easily to me so it’s never bothered me. But now, every time I do something he doesn’t like he threatens to pull Sam from his pre-law courses to force him into running W.E. in my place. He forces me to do things I don’t want to by holding Sam’s future over my head, and I can’t tell Sam because he’d feel bad about it.” he rants with a sigh.

Castiel nods as he talks, hanging off of every word Dean says, waiting until he’s finished before he speaks. “Your father sounds like an ass,” he says, taking a slow sip of his own drink. Dean gives a humourless laugh and nods into his glass.

“You’re telling me,” he mutters.

There’s a moment of silence before Castiel asks, “What did he do specifically last week?” he asks. Dean blows out a deep frustrated breath before explaining.

“He got pissed that I wasn’t attending classes and that I’d failed the quiz in yours, and he threatened to pull Sam off his courses if I didn’t start putting effort into mine,” he complains, finishing his glass then tops it up again. Some of the whiskey sloshes over the side of his glass onto the desk, though he doesn’t seem to notice.

Then he continues, “I mean, I’m great at business! It comes so easily to me, and Dad knows that I work better in a hands-on environment than in education. I’ve always hated school, and he knows that, so he forces me back in. And Sam’s always thrived in school, so he threatens to force him out! It’s like he wants his sons to be as miserable as possible! He wants to make us do the complete opposite of what we want,” he moans.

He finishes his glass again and refills it, then tops up Castiel’s when he holds it out towards him. Dean rests an elbow on the table and holds his head up with a hand under his chin.

“It would be a shame for your brother to have to drop out, he’s one of the top pre-law students here,” Cas says. Dean scoffs.

“How would you know?” he asks.

“My brother is the pre-law professor here. He’s been singing your brother’s praises for quite some time now; I believe he’s harbouring a little crush of sorts,” he says matter of factly.

“Your brother is Gabriel?” Dean asks dumbfounded. When Castiel only gives him a nod in return he snorts a laugh. “Your brother has been flirting with my brother,” he says humorously.

Castiel, raises an eyebrow in return, “He’s flirting with him now?” he asks, taking another sip of his drink.

“Sam seems to think so,” he starts, talking over the rim of his glass as he empties it, then fills it up again. The bottle of whisky is nearly empty, and Dean knows he drank most of it. He could feel that he’d drunk most of it. “He asked me about how men flirt the other day, he wasn’t sure whether his professor had just suddenly turned weird or if he was flirting with him,” he chuckles.

“It was definitely flirting, he should be more subtle about it though,” Castiel says, finishing the last of his drink. He sets the glass down on the table and leans back comfortably in his chair.

He crosses his arms just as Dean says, “Oh? Like you?” with a smirk. Castiel gives him only a roll of his eyes in response.

“So, that’s why you’ve started putting effort in? Because he’s threatening you to?” Castiel asks, changing the subject.

Dean slurs his words as he speaks. “Well, that’s why I put effort into Dick Roman and Ellen Harvell’s classes. I put effort into your classes for other reasons. Reasons you’re more ‘subtle’ about,” he says suggestively with a smirk. Castiel raises an eyebrow in his direction and tries to hold back a smirk of his own. It slips through a little, and Dean’s smile turns triumphant when he notices it.

“Anyway, what happened to this reward I was supposed to be getting for passing the last quiz?” he asks, standing from his chair to circle the desk. Once he’s stood in front of his professor, glass in hand, he throws himself onto the empty desk and sits with a leg on either side of Cas’ chair, lifting his feet to sit on the empty armrests.

“You seemed quite stubborn in your mission to evade me, I assumed you no longer wanted it, Dean,” he replies. He hadn’t thought that at all. He could see in Dean’s eyes that he still wanted it, even when he made up excuses and lied to his face to get away from him after his lectures.

He leans forward to play with Castiel’s tie as he replies. “Of course I wanted it. What I didn’t want was this conversation, but you’ve seemed hell-bent on wanting to have it, so here I am. I’ve given you what you want, when do I get what I want?” he asks, pulling on the tie in his grip.

“Not right now,” Castiel replies, gently pulling Dean’s hand off his tie and into his own grip. All hunger and want that was previously found in his eyes had dissipated, and the lust in his voice was gone.

“Why not?” Dean replied petulantly.

“Because you aren’t sober. There’s too much whiskey in you for me to be confident that your consent is 100% truthful,” he says, to which Dean groans.

“That’s an awful excuse! You know I want it, I know I want it, I’ve said it before while I was completely sober! I’m not even that drunk, I haven’t had that much,” he whines, and Castiel has a hard time not laughing. He’s doing an awful job of convincing his professor he’s not that drunk.

“The empty bottle of whisky says otherwise. So we’re not doing anything sexual today-” he starts, earning a groan from his student, which makes him chuckle, “-and we’re not doing anything sexual again until we talk about this properly,” he says, which makes Dean tilt his head like a puppy.

“What is there to talk about? We’ve done it all before,” he says, annoyance lacing his tone.

“A relationship like ours between a student and a professor is very taboo. If it gets out I could be fired and you could be kicked off your scholarship,” he starts.

Dean cuts him off by saying, “didn’t want the stupid scholarship in the first place,” under his breath. Castiel ignores it and continues.

“So we’re going to talk about everything, what it all means, and we’re going to set some ground rules about what happens between us in the future. I was far too hasty and jumped in too quickly with you before. That will not be happening again, am I understood?” he asks, ignoring Dean’s boo’s of protest.

Dean pulls his feet off the chair’s armrests and instead brings them to wrap around Castiel’s waist as he drops himself into his lap. “Yes, sir,” he murmurs. Cas can see and hear the attempt at seduction from him, but he’s too drunk for it to translate properly, so instead of receiving the reaction he wanted from the professor, all Dean gets is an amused smirk as the professor stands, taking Dean with him.

Dean grunts in surprise, gripping his professor tighter so he doesn’t fall. Castiel sets him back on his feet and gathers his things, urging Dean to do the same. He does so exasperatedly and grumbles in annoyance under his breath when Castiel leads him to his office door with a hand on his lower back. He blushes from the contact and tries to hide it, but his skin is already a little blushed from the alcohol so it’s not difficult for Cas to see the pinkness in his cheeks darkening.

He loves what he sees.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he says. Dean grumbles under his breath again, something about not being tired, but the yawn that breaks his sentence apart betrays him massively.

So the professor locks his office door behind him and guides Dean from the building. “Where’s your dorm?” he asks.

Dean looks confused for a moment, before a look of realisation dawns across his face and he answers, “Oh, I’m in the roadhouse dorms, not far from here. Sammy’s in the sister dorm, the bunker. His is cooler than mine, which sucks, but he has to share a room, I don’t,” he rambles. Cas lets him talk nonsense as he makes his way over to the familiar dorms. Dean was right, they really were only a stone’s throw away from the building with Cas’ office.

They make it there quickly, Dean still not having finished his ramblings when he fishes his keys out and fobs them into the building. He all but slumps into the elevator when it arrives, leaning tiredly against the metal bar that circles the small box. Castiel stands opposite him, listening to him babble nonsense as they make it to the fifth floor. He wobbles his way down the corridor and stops when he makes it to room 53.

He struggles with the key but eventually manages to open the door to let the both of them inside. Castiel follows as Dean walks past everything, not even bothering to take the key out of the door so Cas does it for him and makes his way into the bedroom, where he promptly dumps his backpack and falls face first into the bed and groans. Cas chuckles and puts his briefcase down before making his way over. “Dean, you have to get ready for bed properly or you’ll wake up sick,” he says. Dean simply waves him away and shuts his eyes.

So Castiel chuckles, puts the keys on the desk and kneels beside his student. He gently unties and pulls the beat-up boots from his feet. Dean sighs with relief once they’re off, and flexes his foot and wiggles his toes. One of his socks has a hole in and Cas can’t help but roll his eyes. He sets the boots next to each other by the door, before standing and gently easing Dean’s arms from the sleeves of his jacket.

He tries to help and ends up making it far more difficult, but Cas somehow manages to get it off. He drapes it over the back of the desk chair and turns back to Dean once again. He’s now rolled onto his back and has actually brought his legs up to rest entirely on the bed instead of where they were previously dangled over the edge.

“Dean, take your jeans off,” he says, standing beside the bed with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow as he waits for the other man to listen to what he’s been told.

Dean cracks one tired eye open, raises an eyebrow and smirks as he reaches for his belt. “Oh, have you changed your mind? Finally making good on your promise?” he asks, fumbling blindly to pull his jeans off. Castiel takes them, folds them in half and lays them over the back of the chair on top of his jacket.

“No, you can’t sleep in jeans, you’ll be uncomfortable,” he explains, before tugging the duvet from underneath Dean’s body so that he can drape it over top of him instead. The other man groans in annoyance at the rejection, but his eyes are already closed and it’s half-assed at best. He’s far too tired to be doing anything of that nature anyway, why he would even suggest it is far beyond Castiel’s thoughts, but he pays it no mind.

He pulls the blanket up over Dean’s chest and watches as the other man bundles himself up in it tighter. A small smile graces his face, but no words come. His breathing slows and evens out, and Cas knows he’s asleep. He smiles down at the younger man and thinks of the conversation they’d had in his office. He could kill John Winchester, not only for how he treats Dean but for how blatantly he doesn’t care about his son’s happiness; only his own. How he holds the brother’s future over the other’s head like a bargaining trick to get what he wants out of them. How he has them at his beck and call because they’re scared to ruin the other’s life.

Dean never said it, because he’s likely not aware of it, but Castiel is sure that John holds Dean’s future over Sam’s head as much as he holds Sam’s over Dean. There's no doubt in his mind that he treats Sam just as unfairly as he does Dean, and the thought makes him sick. How someone could do that to their own child he doesn’t know, but it’s not his place to overstep. He’ll be there to help if Dean comes to him for it, and he’ll keep an eye on the brothers, that much he knows, but he won’t go over boundaries. He won’t invade Dean’s privacy when it’s clearly something the other man holds close. Besides, he’s sure Gabriel will help him keep an eye on the youngest Winchester if what Dean had said back at the office holds any truth to it, which he’s sure it does.

But for now, all he can do is bend down to press a gentle, barely there, brush-of-his-lips kiss to Dean’s forehead. He watches as the other man’s smile widens, even in his sleep, and he wonders just how much affection Dean has received from his father. He’d gamble it’s slim to none.

He takes the phone that Dean had put on the bed beside him and plugs it into the charger on the floor beside the bed. Once it’s charging, he sets it on the desk and picks up the keys from beside it. Once he’s sure the other man is comfortable, he turns the light out, grabs his briefcase, and makes his way to the front door. He turns all the lights out and closes the door behind him. He locks it with Dean’s keys, noting the keychain with a picture of Dean with a man Cas presumes is Sam, and then tucks them back under the door so Dean can get out in the morning.

Then, he leaves the building and makes his way to his car. The drive back to his apartment isn’t long, leaving him no time to think of his conversation with Dean. but when he lies awake in bed that night, it’s all he can seem to think about. He allows himself to overthink, wondering about the things that happen that Dean hasn’t told him about. Wonders about the things that may happen in the future. Wonders if there was ever a time in Dean’s life when his father wasn’t so awful.

He falls asleep with thoughts of his student’s mistreatment plaguing his mind, and all he can do is come up with remedies for how he might help if Dean asks. Because he would. He’d drop everything in a heartbeat to help this student with anything. Because he never thought that first encounter would lead this far. Would lead to this. But now he’s in too deep, and he’s scared that feelings are forming that he shouldn’t be having; that he doesn’t want. But there’s nothing to stop them.

He’s in too deep, and he’s afraid that he’s fallen for his student. He’s fallen for Dean Winchester, and there’s nothing to do but to wade in the deep end and hope for the best.

Chapter Text

It was Friday when he’d gotten drunk and embarrassed himself in front of Cas, so at least he had the weekend to avoid him. He stayed in his dorm room for the majority of the following morning, fighting off a hangover and his embarrassment. Sam had stopped by at some point and had laughed at him when he answered the door swaying on his feet in his robe and sunglasses.

He doesn’t tell Sam what’s going on. He doesn’t tell him about whatever the fuck is going on with Castiel. He doesn’t tell him what the fuck’s going on with their dad. He doesn’t tell him that he was somehow convinced to tell Castiel about their dad. It’s been an unspoken rule between them that whatever shit their dad pulls stays in the family, so he fears that telling Sam breaks some secret bond between them.

So instead he lets Sam rant about his professor Gabriel. He’s tempted to spill that their professors are brothers, and that it’s ironic that they’re brothers and they’re involved with their professors, who are also brothers. But he knows that all he’ll get is question after question about how he knows that and how he got onto the topic of conversation with Castiel. So he doesn’t mention it.

He helps by telling him that the way Gabriel is acting is definitely flirting, and laughs when Sam’s face blooms with pink. He doesn’t tease him no matter how badly he wants to, knowing that the second he hears anything pertaining to Cas Sam is going to be awful.

So instead he lets Sam drag him out for a few hours on Saturday, then he spends the rest of the weekend marinating in bed. Monday morning he sighs but rolls out of bed and gets ready for his lectures.

He only has lectures with Roman and Ellen on Mondays, so he’s somewhat thankful to not have to see Cas that morning. He has Ellen first, which is nice. She’s stern and takes no bullshit, how she’s been since he met her, but she also speaks calmly and doesn’t pick on him for answers or to make him talk if he doesn’t raise his hand. She doesn’t force students to participate if they don’t seem in the mood for it, and he’s forever thankful for it. He tends to have her lectures early in the morning, and he’s never in the mood to participate before 11 am anyway.

He makes sluggish notes from her PowerPoint but doesn’t much pay attention to what she’s saying. He knows the gist of it anyway, they’re working on marketing right now, the benefits of different marketing styles to be precise, and he already understands it. He’d helped the marketing director at W.E. for close to a year as he worked his way up, so he knows the practical side of things, he’s only making notes on specific terminology he’d otherwise ignore but was needed in his upcoming paper.

He packed up his things and trudged to the other side of the business building with his head down to Roman’s room. He was one of the first there, which meant he could pick a seat at the back, could keep his hood up and ignore the world around him. Dick has been teaching them about market shares and trade credit for a while, but he was shit at explaining things.

He’d explain that trade credit was a way of ‘buy now pay later’ for businesses, and then would go on a tangent about how it was a stupid choice for a small business to make, even though Dean thought it was likely one of their best options. He often contradicted himself, but he walked around with such an abundance of arrogance and refused to admit that he was wrong so no one really questioned him. Honestly, he confused Dean more than he helped him.

The rest of the students filed in, all of them huffing as they pulled laptops out and got ready to listen to an hour of this man’s bullshit. Dean sat and doodled on the corner of his notebook page for a while, and he was so distracted that he hadn’t realised that the lecture had even begun. Not that he was all too bothered by missing it.

But when he heard his name his head sprang up. “Mr Winchester, care to answer my question?” he asked. Anxiety shot through Dean then, he had no idea what he was being asked.

“Can you repeat it?” he asked, listening to a few sighs around him.

Dick seemed to chuckle from the front of the room, “Perhaps if you had been paying more attention you’d know. My question was ‘What is an advantage of using trade credit as a source of finance?’” he asked, waiting not-so-patiently for an answer.

Dean wracked his brain for an answer, then spat out “Trade credit will allow a business to buy now and pay later when outsourcing its products,” hoping that would be enough. Apparently, it was not, because the professor scoffed.

“Meaning?” he asks, shaking his head with a faux smile filled with arrogance and judgement. Dean’s hated this man since he had the misfortune of meeting him.

“Meaning that the business has a chance to sell the products before it has to pay its supplier, which will improve the cash flow of a small business, and gives them the opportunity for success that they otherwise wouldn’t have been able to reach due to lack of sufficient starting funds.” he says, rattling off the textbook explanation he’d ingrained in his brain.

But Dick only sighs and turns to face his PowerPoint, almost as though he’d been disappointed. “Mr Winchester, if you had been paying attention, perhaps you would have heard just how many times I’d explained that trade credit is not a sufficient source of finance for small businesses,” he says, leaving a few of the girls in the front row to snicker.

Dean can see that other students don’t agree but are too anxious to speak up. So he does. “The textbook says otherwise. In fact, the textbook says-” he starts, but is quickly cut off.

“I don’t care what the textbook says, Mr Winchester, I say that it’s not correct. Who’s teaching here, me or the textbook?” he asks.

Dean scoffs, “You’re the one who was so adamant we buy the textbooks, if you don’t care what they say why would you recommend them as a learning material?” he asks, squinting his eyes and tilting his head as he waits for an answer. He feels like he looks like Cas, and the thought makes him laugh internally.

“The textbooks are outdated and wrong, and the school recommends them, not me,” he says, his once arrogant smirk now replaced with a petulant frown.

“Why would you not say anything before all these students shelled out all their money to buy ‘wrong’ textbooks then?” he asks, gesturing to the others in the lecture hall as he spoke.

“Mr Winchester if you’re going to question my credibility and credentials you can leave my lecture hall,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. He seems to think that this will make Dean bow down, admit that he’s wrong and get him to sit back down quietly. It does not.

Instead, Dean shrugs, throws his belongings into his beat-up backpack, and throws it over his shoulder. Dick seems to be lost for words as Dean jogs down the steps and walks to the door. “Never wanted to be here, anyways,” Dean says as he throws the door open.

He storms away from the room, pissed that he was 100% right but was being ridiculed for it because of a shithead professor. He’s stewing in his anger, seething with clenched teeth as he makes his way towards the exit of the building. In fact, he’s so wholly consumed and focussed on his anger, that when he turns a corner he doesn’t even realise he’s running into someone until it’s too late.

He’s about to apologise, rather gruffly at that, when he hears an all too familiar voice. “Dean? Are you alright?” Cas asks from above him. Figures he’d run into him now. Though, he supposes, Cas does teach in this building too.

“Yeah, fine, just a douchebag professor,” he says, moving to get around him, but Cas gently catches his arm.

“Which professor?” he asks, tilting his head much like Dean had thought of earlier.

“Dick. he was, funnily enough, being a dick,” he grunts.

Cas rolls his eyes with a nod and takes Dean’s hand. “He’s been a pain in my ass since I started working here, What’d he do?”

“Told me I was wrong when I was 100% right,” he says.

“Come tell me about it, I need another reason to get him fired,” he says.

Dean follows along as Cas walks down the halls leading to his office. He follows him in as he did three days before, and tries not to think of the last time he was here. He sits in the guest chair, which Cas pulls to sit beside his on one side of the desk, as Cas gets himself comfortable in his. His trench coat is once again draped over the back of the chair, his briefcase is put on the floor and his tie and top shirt button are loosened.

“So, what’d he say?” he asks.

Dean sighs and starts his monologue. “See, you’re a business professor too so you should understand this better than most. He asked me about the advantages of a business using trade credit as a finance resource. I told him that using trade credit is good for small businesses because they can buy now pay later so they can sell goods and increase cash flow before they pay their supplier. He went on a whole tangent about how it’s not a benefit to small businesses, even though it totally is, and when I told him that the textbooks say differently, he told me that the textbooks are wrong and that if I don’t believe him I should leave, so I did,” he rants, waving his arms around as he speaks.

Cas nods along until he’s done, then weighs in. “He’s always seemed to have something against small businesses, thinks they’re weak because his business didn’t have to work from the ground up as he had his father’s help. And he never admits to being wrong, he’s too stubborn and too much of an ass,” he sighs. When Dean only nods, Cas waves towards his bag, “You have notes on his lectures with you? I wanna see what else he’s ‘teaching’” he says.

Dean nods again, rifles through his bag, and pulls his notebook out. He opens it on the desk between them and lets Cas look through it. He watches as the crease between Cas’ brow deepens, his frown narrowing his eyes, and Dean finds himself missing the sparkling blue he was looking at a moment before. He doesn’t know why he likes his professor’s eyes so much, but every time he sees them it takes all his energy to look away.

So when Cas looks at him to talk, he’s already making eye contact. Cas raises a brow but doesn’t say anything. The quirk in his smile says enough for him. “Most of the stuff in here is correct, but there are little things that are completely made-up bullshit, or just plainly incorrect. I’ll have a word with the head of department, Professor MacLeod, he hates Dick too,” he says, looking back through Dean’s notes.

When Dean doesn’t say anything, he turns back to look at his student, only to find him transfixed on his mouth. “Dean? Did you hear anything I said?” he asks. Dean doesn’t take his eyes away, only seems to daydream further as he hums a non-commital ‘mhmm’. Cas can’t help but smile.

His student was so overconfident with his flirting at the start, almost shameless with it, but now he couldn’t stop staring at Cas’ lips. He’s been staring into his eyes since he got in the office, and Cas is honestly shocked he’s turned his attention to something different, though he can’t say he’s mad.

He sits and waits in silence for Dean to realise he’s been caught out, or that nothing’s happening around him, but he doesn’t seem to. He only seems to snap out of it when Cas ducks forward and gently presses their lips together in a slow kiss.

He hears Dean’s sharp intake of a shocked breath before he kisses back with a gentle hum. He doesn’t move to make things heated or to speed things up, but he also doesn’t pull away yet. He raises his hand to hold Dean’s chin, steadying him as he kisses him again, and again, keeping the same light pressure and softness as before.

When he does pull back, Dean has been pulled from his haze, only to be put into a new one. His eyes are slightly glazed over, and a soft pink tone spreads across his nose and cheeks; even the tips of his ears. Cas chuckles slightly at the bewilderment on his student’s face.

His eyes only widen when Cas practically whispers, “Why don’t I make good on that promise I made you?”

Dean’s eyes widen further, almost bulging from their sockets, before he’s frantically nodding. He seems displaced, like he doesn’t know what to do or how to start; like he’s never been in this position before, and Cas supposes he probably hasn’t. Cas himself hasn’t. But before either of them can overthink things, Cas stands, pulling his grip from Dean’s chin to collect his things.

When Dean seems ready to protest his sudden withdrawal, Cas holds out a hand for him to help him up. He takes it wordlessly, so Cas says, “We’re not doing it here, we’ll need a bed.”

Dean’s eyes turn to him in surprise, before he too rushes to collect his things. “My dorm, then?” he asks with a shaky voice, waiting by the door rather impatiently as Castiel takes his time.

He faux ponders it for a moment, watching Dean squirm a little. He already knows he wants Dean in his own bed, and that there’s no chance of them going back to that dorm. “No, my place’ll be better. No chance of anyone hearing you,” he mutters, shutting and locking the door behind him as he makes his way out with Dean.

“Oh, I don’t share a dorm, It’s just me,” he says. Cas smirks, knowing Dean only wants to go there because it’s nearer, meaning it’ll be quicker to get into bed. But Cas wants to watch him suffer.

“I know, doesn’t mean others aren’t in the dorms next to yours,” he explains.

“Well, the walls aren’t exactly thin,” Dean argues.

“Dean, those walls could be steel lined, ten inches thick of pure metal, it wouldn’t matter, they’d still hear,” he mutters under his breath, just in case any stragglers are around to overhear.

Dean blushes deeper than Castiel has ever seen, and he rejoices in the sight. He’s sure it’s something that’s now burned into his brain, impossible for him to forget. Dean’s breathing appears deeper, and more ragged, and Cas smirks to himself. He’s never wanted someone in his bed more.

The car ride to his place is tense but in a good way. The tension could be cut with a knife, but it’s not awkward tension; it’s sexual. Dean’s knee bounces up and down from where he sits beside Castiel, so he puts his hand on his knee in hopes of helping. But if anything, it makes it worse as Dean finds he doesn’t know where to look. He looks back and forth from the view out the window to the windshield, to the dashboard, and to Cas when he thinks the professor isn’t looking.

Cas can’t help but internally chuckle at the eagerness and excitement coming from him. His hands are fidgety, and he keeps tapping the toe of his shoes against his backpack between his feet.

The walk to the car had been quick, hoping to avoid watchful and likely judgemental eyes as they went. Dean silently thanked whoever was listening that he had no lectures of plans after Dick’s. There was not a chance in hell he’d have said no to this, but he would’ve felt bad not attending or having to cancel on people.

He’d gotten into the car and was so distracted and in his own head that Cas had had to reach over him and pull his seatbelt into place for him. It had only deepened Dean’s blush, and he’d tried to splutter an excuse about how he was going to do it himself and how he wasn’t a baby, but Cas had kissed the words away, a little more heated than back in his office.

So now Dean sat with his window down, hoping to help cool off some of the heat radiating from his red cheeks. He was nervous about this, but it was excited nervous, not bad nervous. This has been all he could think about since Cas had almost threatened it. He’d been anticipating it and imagining what Cas had in store for him, but every time he’d tried to ask Cas had shot him down with an ‘I’m not telling you’, so he’d soon given up.

It wasn’t long before they were pulling into the driveway of Cas’ home. Just as he pulled the handbrake up, Dean whistled. “Nice digs, Cas, you must make a lot being a sexy professor,” he says, eyeing the house from out the windshield. Cas snorts a laugh but doesn’t say anything.

“Dean, before we get out, what do you remember about Friday night?” he asks. Dean turns to look at him warily.

“Why? Did I do something embarrassing? Say something embarrassing?” he asks, suddenly a lot more nervous than before.

“No,” Cas clarifies, “Just that I wasn’t sure if you remembered something I told you,” he said.

Dean took a moment to think about it, before meekly shaking his head, “Sorry man, don’t remember much after spilling my guts to you, What’d you say?” he asks.

“Told you that we weren’t doing this until we spoke about it, properly,” he says, so which Dean groans.

“Talking? Really? I think I told you enough on Friday, didn’t I?” he asks, whining petulantly.

Cas crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “You shared plenty on Friday, and I thank you for trusting me enough to share it with me, but this is entirely different, and I shouldn’t have jumped into a sexual relationship with you so quickly, especially because you’re my student,” he explains.

Dean simply raises an eyebrow at him, “So, why did you?” he asks.

When Cas flushes a deep pink, it’s Dean’s turn to bite his lip and smirk. “Not the point, Dean.”

“Sorry, professor,” he mutters, smirking when it has the desired effect on Castiel, who rolls his eyes.

“I wanted to double check for my own piece of mind that you aren’t doing this because I’m your professor and you feel pressured?” he said, though it was formed more like a question, which Dean promptly scoffed at.

“No, of course, I’m not! If anything, I came onto you, man. Besides, I get good enough grades on my own, I don’t need to suck your cock for an A,” he smirks, to which Cas rolls his eyes again.

“A student/professor relationship is very taboo, Dean. I could be fired, you could be kicked from your scholarships, and we’d find it incredibly difficult to find another school to go to, we need to be able to trust each other with this,” he explains, and for once Dean takes on a serious expression.

“I get it, Cas, but I didn’t sleep with you to ruin your career, and I’m sure you didn’t sleep with me to get me kicked out of school. I’m not stupid enough to be precarious with this, and I know you aren’t either,” he reasons, and Cas nods.

“That is true, I just had to be sure you understood the severity of the situation now that we’re involved. It doesn’t help that my brother is now pursuing yours, Gabriel seems to rejoice when he makes my life more difficult,” he says, to which it’s Dean’s turn to laugh.

“That’s brothers for ya, now are you taking me to bed or not?” he asks, mirroring Cas by crossing his arms. Cas simply huffs and begins getting out of the car. Dean is quick to follow, and though he tries to hide his eagerness, it doesn’t work.

“Keep getting bossy with me, Dean, see where it gets you,” Cas threatens, not bothering to look his student's way as he walks up to his front door, which he takes his time unlocking.

“I think I’d quite like to see where it gets me, professor,” he says, watching as Cas smirks.

“Maybe you would, but your dick wouldn’t,” he replies, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

Chapter Text

Dean wasn’t entirely prepared for his professor’s eagerness. When the door had shut behind them Cas was on him faster than he could comprehend. Keys clattered to the floor as Cas shoved Dean against the door, their mouths pressed together in a heated kiss. Dean can’t hold back the grunt of surprise the impact gave him, then he’s moaning helplessly into Cas’ mouth.

Cas has Dean by the lapels of his leather jacket, shoved up against the door with a thigh between the other man’s legs. He’s not sure whether Dean knows he’s grinding down on his thigh, but he loves it nonetheless. He can feel the hardness of his cock through his pant leg and nothing’s ever made him feel more lightheaded. After all, all the blood in his body is rushing south to match Dean.

The kiss is rushed and sloppy, broken up by moans and panted breaths. And Dean’s hands are everywhere. They start in his hair, his arms over his shoulders as his fingers knot in the strands at the back of Cas’ head, pushing them impossibly closer together. Then he’s pulling at Cas’ trenchcoat, and the professor isn’t sure whether he's trying to pull him closer or if he’s trying to pull it off, but he takes it off either way. He rushes to pull his arms from the sleeves, then dumps the coat onto the floor so he can get his hands back on his student.

He grabs at Dean’s waist, pulling their hips together with a groan as he moves to kiss down his neck. Dean practically pants in his ear as he pulls Cas in by his suit jacket, keeping him close as he grinds their clothed cocks together. Cas groans into his shoulder and starts pushing Dean’s jacket from his shoulders. Once it’s off Dean struggles to catch his breath enough to mutter “Bedroom, Cas,” but somehow manages to force the words out.

But Cas doesn’t listen, and instead he reaches around Dean's back and tucks his fingers into the back pockets of his jeans, kneading his ass and using his grip as leverage to create even more friction between them. He brings their mouths back together, their kisses growing more desperate and needy as they press closer together.

Dean grunts in shock when his feet are pulled out from under him, bringing his hands up to grip Cas’ shoulders, before moving them back into his hair. But Cas ignores it and wraps Dean’s legs around his hips, stabilising him by gripping his thighs and by pushing him further into the door. He’s never been picked up before, never been manhandled quite like how Cas does it, and his cock twitches at the thought.

He’s always been the bigger one, the stronger one, in any relationship; sexual or not. He’s always been the dominant one, always in control and always the one doing the manhandling. So when Cas starts carrying him up the stairs to their left like he’s weightless, he wraps his legs tighter around his professor's waist and pushes his tongue into his mouth. He’s always been the one in control; he’s not going to give it up that easily.

Their tongues tangle in Cas’ mouth as he makes it to his bedroom. He pushes the door open with one hand, holding Dean with the other, as he makes his way over to the bed. He crashes into the wall first, pushing Dean against it once more to try and win the battle happening in their mouths. He almost growls in frustration when Dean uses his grip in Cas’ hair as leverage to pull his head back at an odd angle, maintaining control over the kiss just as he’s about to lose it. Cas was so close to controlling everything.

He finally makes it to the bed, pushing Dean down into the pillows as he settles between his student’s legs. Right where he fucking belongs. He brings his right hand up from Dean’s thighs now that his weight is being held up by the bed, and gently curls his fingers around his throat. He holds him to the bed with his grip on his neck, and finally breaks the kiss to pull away and look at the man below him.

Both of them are out of breath, but when he pulls away Dean’s smirking at him like the cat that got the cream. He’s only a hair's breadth away, so his lips ghost over Dean’s as he whispers, “I think we both know I’m the one in charge here, Dean, stop being a brat.”

But Dean’s smirk only grows wider, and before he can comprehend what’s happening the man below him bucks his hips and rolls them to the side so that Cas is flat on his back. Dean has Cas’ wrists in his grip, pressed to the mattress on either side of Cas head as he presses kisses from his cheek down his neck. His legs bracket Cas’ thighs, and he rolls their hips together as he talks. “I don’t know that I agreed to that, professor. Besides, that’s no fun,” he mutters, sucking on the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. He’s sure there’s going to be a mark there tomorrow.

He uses Dean’s kisses as a distraction to once again flip them, loving the way the breath is pulled from Dean’s chest as he’s thrown around. He starts unbuckling Dean’s belt, grinding the palm of his hand over the bulge just below the buckle to watch the way Dean throws his head back with a slight hiss. Once he’s pulled the belt free of the loops, Dean’s hands come up to his chest to start undressing him too. He starts with his tie, making quick work of throwing it onto the floor, before unbuttoning his shirt.

The sight of his professor towering above him has his heart racing. Every button he undoes allows for more of his bare chest to peek through. His pecks are so well defined, possibly more than his own, and his mouth waters at the thought of covering them in marks. As he opens it further, he gets a glimpse of Castiel’s abs. He knew his professor was surely toned, after all he could see the bulge of his arms in his shirt and the way his pants would stretch over his thighs, but he wasn’t expecting this.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when his professor says, “I know that we established that I’m in charge when I bent you over my damn desk, Winchester.”

“Oh, you mean the time you got to have your way with me and couldn’t even make me cum? Yeah, I remember that, maybe it’s my turn to have my way with you?” he asks, raising a brow as he finally gets to the shirt’s last button. He hastily pulls the shirt from Cas’ pants, then shoves it from his shoulders. As Cas sits back on his knees to pull it off properly, Dean too sits up to pull his own shirt off. They’re both thrown onto the floor beside each other.

Cas shoves him back into the pillows with a hand on his shoulder, then follows him down as he mutters, “Couldn’t make you? Or wouldn’t let you? I seem to remember promising to make you cum over and over if you behaved for me, which you promised to do while begging me to fuck the bratiness out of you. Does that need to happen again considering said bratiness seems to be back in full force?” he asks, watching Dean swallow around nothing. His green eyes flick between Cas’ eyes and mouth, before he smirks.

“I don’t beg for anything. I think you’re just bluffing, because you know you can’t make good on your promises. It’s alright if you can’t Cas, I get it, we all-” he starts. He rambles, not noticing Cas grab his discarded belt from the pillows beside him. He takes Dean’s wrists, which conveniently landed beside his head when he was pushed back down, and uses the belt to tie them together, and to the bars of the headboard. “Hey man, what the hell?!” he asks, pulling at his wrists.

When Cas starts unbuttoning his jeans, seemingly unbothered by Dean’s ‘struggling’, Dean feels his cock twitch. He wriggles his wrists and pulls against the belt, and all he gets in return in the creaking and groaning of the headboard above him. He actually can’t release his wrists. He’s tied down by his professor, completely helpless to it, and he fucking loves it. His cock throbs and his heart races at the thought. “I need your hands out of the way, Dean. If you’re going to cum over and over again you’re going to try and stop me. You can’t do that with your hands tied, can you?” he asks.

Dean’s breathing gets deeper as he grows more excited, especially when his boots are slowly untied and thrown off either side of the bed. Once they’re off, his socks soon join, then his Jeans are being slowly peeled down his thighs.

The bulge in his boxers is prominent, with a dark wet spot at the tip. The sight has Cas’ mouth watering. He moves back so he can properly pull the jeans from his legs, discarding them without so much as a glance in their direction.

Dean’s breath hitches as Cas’ hands run up the inside of his thighs, from his knees to his crotch. When they reach the dip where his thighs and hips join, he grips him and pulls him impossibly closer, before gently outlining the bulge in Dean’s underwear with the very tip of his finger. Dean groans and bucks up into his touch, chasing the feeling as much as he can, but Cas quickly pulls his touch away.

“Safewords, Winchester. Do you use any?” he asks, not wanting to go any further without one.

Dean groans and rushes to get his words out, struggling for the breath he needs to speak. “Stoplight system,” he mutters.

“Good, explain it to me so I know you know what it means,” he demands, watching frustration grow on his student’s face.

“Green for good, yellow for slow down, Red for stop completely. Now fucking touch me, Cas,” he groans, trying to buck his hips again to get them closer.

Cas smirks down at him, before using his grip on his hips to pin him to the bed. “I thought you said you don’t beg?” he asks, amusement lacing his tone.

Dean huffs in annoyance and once again pulls at the belt holding his wrists. “I don’t,” he mutters.

“Oh really? That sounded a whole lot like begging, Dean,” he says, returning his hesitant touch to the bulge between Dean’s legs. Dean almost whimpers at the touch, but manages to hold the noise in.

“Well it wasn’t,” he huffs.

Cas simply admires him for a moment. This gorgeous young man tied to his bed, in nothing but his bulging underwear, which he notices are slowly gaining a wet spot, and a light sheen of sweat over his defined chest. He was going to enjoy this very much.

“Doesn’t particularly matter if you were or weren’t. You’ll be begging me to stop pretty soon anyway,” he says smugly. That has Dean swallowing around nothing, his eyes widening.

“To stop?” he asks.

“Yes, Dean, to stop. Though I don’t listen to commands such as ‘stop’ or ‘no’. If you don’t safeword out I’m not stopping until I’m done with you. And I have so much I want to do,” he says wistfully.

Dean seems to be considering this, but Cas can see the fire in his eyes. He knows Dean’s trying to find a way to agree without sounding too eager. “On one condition,” he says, making Cas laugh.

“You are in no such position to be bartering with me, Dean. you’re the one tied up here, not me,” he grins.

“One. Condition.” Dean grits out, and Cas nods.

“Ok, go ahead, I’ll bite,” he says.

“You’re next,” he says simply, and for a moment Cas is confused.

“I’m next? What does that mean?” he asks.

“You get to tie me up and do whatever to try and make me cum over and over, like we agreed to, today. But next time, the belt is around your wrists, and I get to do what I want,” he explains, and Cas chuckles.

“Ok, fine. But I’m not handing my wrists over to be tied up. If you can get me tied up, you can do whatever you want,” he concedes. Theres no way Dean’s going to get him tied up like he had to Dean.

“Deal,” Dean says, then his legs are wrapping around Cas’ back, and the older man is surprised as he’s pulled down on top of the other. “Now are you going to fuck me, or what?” Dean asks, now nose to nose with the man between his legs, a sly grin on his face.

“Dean, you have no idea what you’ve just asked for,” he mutters, starting to slowly kiss his way down Dean’s body. Dean’s breath hitches as a kiss is pressed just to the side of his nipple, and Cas locks that piece of information away for later.

He continues on down Dean’s body, smirking as he feels Dean’s stomach muscles clench under his lips. His breathing deepens and speeds up as Cas reaches the waistband of his underwear.

Dean’s breath hitches as his lips ghost over the bulge in his underwear, never fully pressing down or giving enough friction for him to feel good. Cas hears more than sees as Dean pulls on the belt holding his wrists down before he uses his feet to try and press his hips up into Cas’ mouth.

“Cas, c’mon, do something,” he complains when Cas holds his hips still.

“I thought we just established that I get to do whatever I want right now. So be quiet and let me do what I’m doing,” he says, before leaning down and finally mouthing over Dean’s clothed cock. Dean throws his head back with a loud groan, pushing his hips up against Cas’ grip in desperation.

The professor continues to press open-mouthed kisses to Dean’s dick, revelling in the way it had Dean biting his lip to contain his noises. When he starts sucking bruises into the sensitive skin of Dean’s inner thighs they start to tremble from where they rest on his shoulders, unable to stop the whimper that escapes him.

Watching his professor lay between his legs peppering open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach made Dean’s dick strain even more in his underwear. It throbbed harshly as Cas started sucking bruises everywhere he could reach; his thighs, hips and lower stomach. He even pulled himself up to smatter a few across his chest. Dean couldn’t hold back the twitch of his hips everytime Cas touched him in the right place.

His thighs tried to squeeze around Castiel’s head on their own accord, tensing up from the immense amount of pleasurable tension soaring through him. The build up of anticipation and teasing touches was really beginning to drive him crazy, but with his hands tied up there was no way for him to get Cas to hurry things up.

He knew what Cas wanted; what would get him to finally give Dean what he needs. They’d just discussed it, but Dean was adamant that he doesn’t bed, and it’s going to take more than a few well-placed, teasing kisses to get him there. He tried to steady his breathing; tried to calm himself down, but there was no point.

From his place between Dean’s legs, Cas’ back muscles almost rippled like a lake when he moved, and his arms looked huge from how he held himself up. The sight would’ve been enough to have his dick throbbing without the teasing kisses and touches, but with them? He could feel the wet spot forming on his underwear from the pre-cum practically leaking from his cock.

Luckily, he didn’t have to start begging for Cas to take the next step and take his underwear off. He hoped for even half a second that it meant Cas was going to do what he wanted; give him what he needed.

But he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Instead, Cas threw his underwear on the floor, then got right back to pressing tantalising, sloppy misses all around he base of his cock. The warmth of his mouth mixed with the wet heat of his tongue all across the ‘v’ of his hips and anywhere else he could reach. Anytime he even tries to lift his hips for more Cas’ grip grew stronger until it was bruising.

Cas could hear Dean pulling on the belt once again, and looked up with a smirk to watch him struggle for a minute. When he finally seemed to give up with a frustrated huff, Cas decided to give him a little reprieve by licking a long stripe over the swell of his balls and up the vein on the underside of his cock.

Dean gave a surprised shout, followed by a moan as Cas used his tongue to circle the tip, collecting the pre-cum on his tongue with a moan of his own. When he continued to only lick everywhere he could reach, never sucking or giving the full pleasure he wanted, Dean couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“Cas! C’mon, please do it properly!” he all but shouts. Cas chuckles and crawls up Dean’s body, leaving a path of kisses in his wake.

When they end up face to face he kisses Dean deeply, relishing in the way he moans into it. When he leaves Dean breathless he moves his kisses to Dean’s neck, before whispering in his ear, “Do what properly, Dean?” he asks.

Dean groans, before bringing his legs up and wrapping them tightly around Cas’ waist to pull him closer. When Cas’ body is flushed with his, he groans in his ear “Suck me off, properly Professor,” he practically growls in his ear.

“That’s no way of asking nicely, Dean,” Cas tuts in his ear. Dean throws his head back with a moan of frustration.

“Please, Cas. Please!” practically whines in his throat.

Cas presses another kiss behind his ear, before whispering “Good boy,” and moving down to lick over his cock again. Dean nearly goes back to whining, annoyed that Cas has gone back to teasing him once again.

But then Cas all but swallows down his cock whole, and Dean takes the opportunity to buck his hips, sending his cock further down his professor’s throat as he no longer had a hold on Dean’s hips. Dean moans loudly when Cas gags on it, before he uses his forearm to hold Dean down again.

Then Cas is bobbing up and down with fervour, wrapping his lips tightly around him and hollowing his cheeks. Dean can’t help the groan that’s pulled from deep in his chest, and he most certainly can’t stop himself from arching up off the bed.

Even then, when Dean’s moaning and writhing beneath him, Cas still teases him. He doesn’t keep his pace consistent, slowing down when Dean least expects it, only to speed up when Dean gets used to the slowed pace. Moving to suck and lick over each of his balls just when he gets used to the feeling of wet heat wrapped around his cock.

The unstability and lack of pattern sets Dean on edge, never quite knowing what’s coming next or when Cas’ll change things up. The unknown is what ultimately brings Dean to the edge.

“Cas… I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop…” he breathes, chest rising haphazardly as he tries to suck a breath in.

Cas pulls his mouth off, using his hand to stroke Dean’s cock instead as he talks. “That’s the point, Dean. I don’t care when or how many times you cum, just know that I’m not stopping until I’m ready to. So you can let yourself cum now, but you have no idea how long I’m gonna keep this up, so you’re probably going to end up an overstimulated mess by the time I’m done.”

Dean groans at those words, desperate to cum but not sure whether he should throw himself off that cliff just yet. He wants to so bad. Cas takes his cock back in his mouth, and Dean’s sure it’s practically blue when he does. It throbs as Cas squeezes it at the base before licking over the tip, dipping the tip of his tongue into the slit.

When he traces the vein up the underside of Dean’s cock with tongue it sets all of Dean’s nerves alight. Pleasure shoots up his spine, and his thighs clench around Cas’ head as he cums.

Dean’s groan is deep and guttural, pulled from deep in his chest as he arches off the bed again. His toes curl and his legs tremble as he pulls at his binds, wanting so desperately to run his fingers through Cas’ hair. His dick twitches and throbs as he spills in Cas’ mouth, savouring the way Cas swallows around him. His breathing becomes laboured as he starts to come down from his high.

And now he wants to grip Cas’ hair for all new reasons. Now, he so hopelessly wants to take a hold and pull him off, oversensitivity racketing through his body as he squirms. Soon, that oversensitivity becomes unbearingly overwhelming. So much so that he can’t stop himself from whining.

As Dean writhes and tries to move away from his mouth, Cas doubles down on his efforts, sucking with more vigour, putting more enthusiasm into it. Listening to Dean cry out and rest on the precipice of begging him to stop this early on has Cas harder than he thinks he’s ever been. He can’t hold himself back from rocking down into the mattress below him as he continues to overstimulate Dean.

The friction mixed with Dean’s whimpers and attempts to get away help to spread the warmth in his gut. “Cas! No more… Cas, please,” he mutters under his breath.

Cas finally pulls his mouth off, and for a moment Dean’s relieved. The reprieve is blissful for all of a second, before Cas swaps to using his hand instead. Dean grits his teeth with a grimace and glares at the professor, who pulls himself up to sit on his knees. He moves on his knees until he’s directly above him, and reaches over into the drawer of the bedside table. Dean watches him rummage around, but can’t see what he’s doing in it.

After a minute he pulls out a bottle of lube and a vibrator. Cas grips him by the back of the knees before pushing them up and spreading them slightly. Dean’s heart speeds up and his cock twitches from where it had softened and laid against his stomach. When the cap to the bottle of lube clicks open, Dean groans in anticipation.

He watches as Cas spreads lube over two of his fingers, before he rubs them together. From how he’s sitting Dean can see the impressive bulge in his work pants, and Dean’s shocked to find that the juxtaposition of Cas still being partially clothed while Dean is tied up completely naked really helps to get his cock ready for round two.

He’s stuck in his own mind until Cas’ lubed-up fingers rub against his hole. He barely has time to blink before one of Cas’ fingers is pushed inside, right up to the knuckle. By the time it’s fully in a moan’s punched from his chest.

Cas wastes no time and begins thrusting that finger in and out, using his other hand to stroke Dean’s cock in time with his thrusts. Dean struggles not to kick his legs in an effort to get away, and Cas must see it because the next minute he’s leaning down to whisper to him. “Dean, if you keep struggling I’ll find a way to tie those legs down too. Keep. Still,” he threatens, pushing a second finger in to join the first.

Dean sobs as Cas scissors his fingers, stretching him open with a slight burn. He hasn’t had anything in his ass since Cas took him over his desk, mainly because he wanted it to burn the way it does now. And he fucking loves it.

But more than anything, he loves it when Cas starts searching with the tips of his fingers and finds that sweet spot inside him that sends the strongest levels of pleasure up his spine and down to his toes. His head shoots back with a shout of, “Fuck, Cas!” and a groan, which makes the professor laugh.

“What’s wrong? Feel good?” he snarks, bullying his fingers into Dean’s prostate. Dean’s legs try to close, but Cas moves between them to keep them open. “I thought I told you to keep still, Winchester,” he all but growled. Dean threw his head back with a whine, thrashing from side to side in an attempt to get his wrists free. “What? Gonna cum again?” he asks, doubling his efforts with both hands.

His fingers thrust faster and harder, and the hand around his cock speeds up. Dean sobs at his words, fresh tears of desperation spilling down his cheeks. “Cas, please. If I cum now I won’t be able to do it again, please,” he wails.

“I think I’m missing the part where that’s my problem, pretty boy. If I want you to cum again, you will,” he smirks. Dean shakes his head while taking deep, haggard breaths.

“No, Cas, I can’t…” he moans, his cock twitching in Cas’ hand as he speeds his movements up. Cas spreads all three fingers with another smirk.

“Colour, Dean?” he asks, not stopping his movements once.

Dean almost sobs out his answer. “Green.”

“Good, then cum for me,” he demands, swapping from thrusting his fingers to rubbing them mercilessly over his prostate.

“Fuck! Oh god, Cas!” he groans as his cock spurts in Cas’ grip. This time his cock isn’t in his professor’s mouth, so the cum shoots out onto his stomach and chest, and drips over Cas’ fingers. Pleasure spreads from his dick to the rest of him, thrumming through his veins and taking over completely. His eyes roll to the back of his head and his breath stutters in his chest.

Cas continues to abuse his prostate through it, but removes his hand from his cock. Just as he’s beginning to grow overstimulated again, he shouts in shock as more pleasure shoots through his cock.

When he looks down he sees the bullet vibrator Cas pulled from the drawer pressed against his cock. He nestles it right above his balls, so he can feel small vibrations there too, but the rest is pressed against the length of his cock, prolonging his orgasm. It rips a shout from him, oversensitivity shooting through his spine.

He clenches his fists, pulling against the belt until his hands turn white. His legs tremble on either side of Cas’ body, threatening to close as his toes curl up. He can feel his stomach muscle tensing so hard he’s afraid they’ll cramp, and he can’t help the way he twists his body from side to side in vain. He tries to speak but his words are nonsensical as they tumble past his lips. There’s nothing he could say or do to get out of it, and he’s not entirely sure he wants to.

He’s never been treated like this, never been at someone else's mercy, especially someone like his professor. He’s never been forced to orgasm time and time again but he loves it.

He loves it so much that he actually finds himself pushing into the vibrator, chasing it to feel the pleasurable pain that comes along with the overwhelming oversensitivity of his possible third orgasm. He’s only cum twice so far but the teasing and edging over a cliff has him sweating and panting with the need for release.

He doesn’t even realise he’s whimpering and whining from the back of his throat, but Cas can hear it, and he fucking loves it. The way Dean’s completely at his disposal, tied up for Cas to do whatever he wants with him, makes him desperate for it. He’s never needed to fuck someone the way he does right now, looking down at Dean’s writhing body, as he pushes himself further into the vibrator and further away from it simultaneously.

Cas takes slight pity on him, and pulls the vibrator away, watching him take a deep relieved breath. His eyes are filled with tears, and when he looks into Cas’ eyes he doesn’t look entirely there. He looks hazy and slightly out of it, so Cas pulls his fingers from Dean’s hold, watching it clench around nothing, before he starts to undo his work pants.

Dean barely seems to notice what he's doing, instead whining at the sudden lack of stimulation to his cock and in his ass. Cas seemed to take it away so suddenly, and he was desperate for it back. Despite cumming twice he still doesn’t feel relieved or satisfied. He doesn’t feel like they’re finished.

So when Cas leans over him, presses a gentle kiss to his lips, and sweetly whispers, “Colour, Dean,” he’s helpless to reply anything but “yellow.”

“Yellow?” Cas asks, gently wiping the hair from Dean’s face. “Why yellow, Dean? What can I do for you, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing another kiss to his lips. He can taste himself on Cas’ lips and the thought has his head spinning.

“Want my hands,” he mutters, pulling at the belt gently. Cas looks up at his hands, noting how they’ve gone slightly limp, and nods.

“Sure honey, you can have your hands back,” he mutters, undoing the belt before tossing it on the floor. When Dean brings his hands back down to his chest Cas rubs over the chafing marks left there.

Cas presses a chaste kiss to the marks too, and a stray tear falls from Dean’s eye. Before he can think too much about it he takes Cas’ face in his hands and brings him down for another kiss, though this one wasn’t soft and sweet like the others.

This one was heated and desperate, and much like their earlier kisses where they fought for control. Cas presses him deeper into the pillows below him, pressing their crotches together. Dean hadn’t even noticed him take the rest of his clothes off. But he can feel it now from where they’re pressed together completely.

He groans into Cas’ mouth, before pulling out of the kiss, breathing deeply as he does. “Please, professor, need you to fuck me now,” he whispered. Cas groans into Dean’s neck, unable to stop the way his hips rut down into Dean’s.

He sits himself up slightly, reaching back into the drawer. When he pulls a condom out, Dean limply grabs his wrist and shakes his head ‘no’. “You don’t want me to use it?” Cas asks, needing to make sure he understands the other man beneath him properly. When Dean shakes his head, confirming that he doesn’t want him to use it, he throws it back in the drawer and instead reaches for the lube and coats his cock in it.

Dean once again brings his legs up, this time wrapping them around Cas’ waist as he lines his cock up. Dean’s arms come to rest around Cas’ shoulders, holding onto the nape of his neck as Cas rests himself on his elbows on either side of Dean’s head. “You ready?” Cas asks, waiting for Dean’s nod before he slowly pushes in.

When he’s fully in, and their hips rest together, they both groan together. “God you feel good, Dean! You ready to cum again for me?” he asks, pressing kisses to the younger man’s neck.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I can,” Dean whines, scratching down Cas’ back as the other thrusts softly.

“You can, just one more,” he moans, building up strength in his movements.

Every thrust ruts them together completely. It’s not just their hips that meet this time, but Cas’ whole body drags against Dean’s. Dean’s eyes roll back in his head as his dick gets trapped between their bodies, Cas’ body creating a beautiful friction against him.

Cas grips at Dean’s shoulders as his thrusts speed up, and Dean’s hands end up everywhere. They start in his hair, gripping and pulling at the strands. Then they’re holding onto his shoulders desperately, holding them as close together as he can. His legs tighten around his waist at the same time his hands leave scratches all over his shoulder blades. Eventually they scrabble to grab at his waist, just above where his legs sit, and he uses his grip to help Cas’ thrusts become more forceful.

He feels so full, Cas’ cock stretching his hole with a beautiful burning pressure. After a few sharp thrusts, Cas adjusts his angle and nails his prostate dead on. His back arches off the bed into Cas’ body, before tucking his face into Cas’ neck to try and muffle his desperate moans.

Cas’ thrusts become rougher, more desperate and sloppy as Dean clenches around him. Cas moves one of his own hands into Dean’s hair, running his fingers through it gently, a complete opposite to the movement of his hips.

It’s Cas’ turn to bury his face in Dean’s neck, his eyes clenched closed as he grits out “Fuck, Dean, I’m so close.”

“Me too, Cas, please don’t stop,” he mutters, breathings harshly into Cas’ neck. Feeling his breath fan out over his jugular sends him wild, and Cas can’t stop himself from reaching down to take Dean’s dick in hand, stroking him in time with every thrust. Dean moans from deep in his gut, thrusting his hips up into Cas’ hand and back onto his cock.

“C’mon Dean, cum one more time for me,” he mutters in his ear, gently taking his earlobe between his teeth.

That’s the straw that finally breaks the camel’s back. Dean cums for the third time with a whimper, spilling on both their stomachs. There’s not much of it, considering he’s already finished twice, but the feeling rocks through his body all the same.

And the feeling of having Dean’s cum dribble over his hand and splatter across his stomach has him falling over the edge. The pleasure hits him like a truck, shooting up his spine and taking hold of him completely. His dick twitches inside Dean, then he groans as he fills him up. Dean whines as he’s pumped full, feeling the heat surround him from the inside out.

He rides out both their highs, continuing to steadily rock into Dean as they both come down from it.

When both of their highs settle, they’re left panting into each other's necks. Cas’ arms tremble with the strength it takes to hold him up. Dean’s thighs don’t even tremble anymore, they basically seize on either side of Cas’ hips. His hands have a slight tremor from where they rest on Cas’ back, and now that he’s had what he assumes is his last orgasm, he feels the exhaustion of their activities hit him full force.

It doesn’t take long for him to basically pass out.

He whines when he feels Cas pull out, and the cum from inside him spills down his thighs. He both hates and loves the feeling. He’s not fully aware of what happens next, but he thinks he feels Cas wipe him down with something. Then, he’s pulled under the covers, and a warm body slides up against him.

He can’t stop himself from being vulnerable and sprawling himself out against Cas’ form. He falls asleep to the sound of Cas’ heartbeat beneath his head.

Cas falls asleep with his student in his arms. He can’t stop himself from pulling him a little closer and from running his hand through the younger man’s hair. Especially when he huffs and shuffles closer from the touch.

He thinks he could get used to falling asleep with Dean in his arms.

Chapter Text

Dean wakes to a petulant ray of sunshine directly in his eyes. He always closes the curtains so how the hell is the sun streaming through into his room? He squints his eyes open, blinking as his eyes adjust to the harsh light, and glares at the offending curtains. Only to realise they are in fact not his curtains.

He holds a hand up to shield the sun as he looks at his professor, still asleep to his left. Cas’ arms are still wrapped tightly around him, but instead of being flat on his back with Dean atop him, he’s now laid on his side with his nose pressed to the crown of Dean’s head. Dean can feel the embarrassing heat rising in his cheeks at the intimacy of the position. They’re pressed together from head to toe, with their legs intertwined and their chests bumping together with every breath they take.

He shuffles slightly closer, using Cas’ body to shield the sun from his eyes, and just holds back from sighing at the relief. He’ll have to remind Cas to close the curtains before they fall asleep next time.

Cas’ eyes are shut still as he sleeps, his lashes falling over his cheeks softly. Dean hates that that’s one of the first things he notices. Those thoughts are far too romantic for whatever they have going on, but he can’t help but to admire his professor’s features while he can’t be caught doing so.

Dean already knows he’s enraptured by the other man’s eyes, he has been since he first saw them, and he’s fully aware of the way he struggles to tear his gaze from Cas’ hands at times, but now he gets to notice everything else. He notices the plumpness of his lips, and how shockingly pink they are. He notices the slight stubble that surrounds them, and can’t help but flush at the thought of that stubble burning the skin of his inner thighs. He notices the crease of a frown that rests between his brows, even as he sleeps. He wouldn’t be Professor Novak without that stern frown, so Dean’s glad he doesn’t lose it as he sleeps.

He has to hold back from running his hand through the other man’s hair when he notes that it looks softer than he’d expected. He would not be caught dead doing something as stupid as petting his professor. He’d sooner light himself on fire than allow himself to be subject to such embarrassment.

He closes his eyes and sighs. It’s far too early for this, he might as well just try to go back to sleep. So he tucks his head under Castiel’s chin with his eyes closed, allowing himself one sliver of affection. Besides, it’s not like Cas would know he’d done it consciously and not while he slept. He wraps an arm hesitantly over Cas’ waist, seeking his warmth out, he gets surprisingly cold when he sleeps naked, and tries to fall asleep.

He’s startled when not even a moment later Cas grunts and rolls onto his back, returning to the position they slept in. His right arm is still trapped under Dean’s waist, holding his hip ever so slightly, but his left is now bent above him, resting his hand on the pillow next to his head. Dean huffs when Cas pulls him impossibly closer, tucking his face further into his chest than before and pulling his body so he’s half rested on top of his professor.

When he feels Cas’ morning wood digging into his thigh he has to bite his lip to hold back a groan.

He hadn’t even felt it before, but now his matching one is pressed firmly into Cas’ hip. He can’t help the subtle roll of his hips as he instinctually seeks out friction and has to muffle his moan in his professor’s chest. Dean has to stop himself before he wakes the other man up, he’s not sure whether he’d be more mortified to have Cas wake up to this than to him playing with his hair. He’s not sure he wants to find out.

But even when he stops moving and stays stubbornly still, he can still feel the heat of Cas against his thigh. His mouth still waters at the thought of swallowing him down, and he tries to hold back, he really does. But when he slowly pulls the blankets back so he can get out of bed, his eyes catch on the sight of their waists and legs tangled together.

Cas’ cock is clearly only half hard where it lay trapped between Dean’s thigh and his own stomach, but it’s already big and red. And how is he supposed to resist that? He is, after all, only a man.

He pulls himself from Cas’ grip slowly, looking around for the things he’d need as ideas come to him. Cas had done whatever he pleased the night before, and Dean intended to do the same while his professor could do nothing to stop it. So he slowly crawls down the bed, moving to rest between the other man’s legs. When he’s level with Cas’ dick, he slowly starts pressing gentle, open mouthed kisses to the skin of his hips and thighs. When that does nothing he moves them further in, kissing all around the base of his cock.

Dean watches as it slowly hardens in front of him, but it’s not enough to wake the other man. He grows more daring, turning those open mouthed kisses into sucked hickeys and even soft bites. Seeing the smatter of light bruises beginning to form on his professor's skin is the straw that breaks the camel’s back, so he can hardly be blamed when he moves those kisses to his cock.

And he can hardly be blamed for turning those kisses into tentative licks and even a suck to the head of his cock when he sees Cas doesn’t stir. Remarkably, even that doesn’t wake him, he just huffs and turns his head to the other side. Dean waits for him to settle down again before he swallows him down whole. He moans at the heavy weight on his tongue; the taste and scent of Cas surrounding him completely.

He gives one long suck, hollowing his cheeks, before he bobs his head. He circles his tongue around the tip, relishing in the way it twitches between his lips. He runs his tongue along the slit, collecting the precum that had pearled at the end. Cas moans under his breath from above him, bucking his hips ever so slightly before settling down.

Dean takes his mouth off of Cas’ cock, and instead moves to suck one of his balls into his mouth. He rolls it around on his tongue and gives a long suck before pulling off with a pop. He laves his tongue all over the other, before running it up the entire length of his cock, giving a hearty suck to the tip. Cas whimpers a little, and starts to stir so Dean pulls back waiting to see if he’d wake fully.

After some huffing, and a hand rubbing all over his face haphazardly, Cas falls back into sleep. How deep of a sleeper is he? Dean would’ve been awake at the first touch to his cock.

Regardless, he takes it as a win and moves to grab the lube from the nightstand Cas had gotten it from the day before. Just as he takes it in hand, he notices a very familiar pair of boxers in the back of the same drawer. More specifically, the pair he’d worn when Cas had bent him over his desk, and had consequently lost. He picks those up with a chuckle too, smirking as he throws them on the bed beside his professor.

Then he gets to work, stretching himself open on his own fingers. He doesn’t need to do much, having taken Cas’ cock less than 12 hours ago, but he figures he might as well give himself a head start. He has to bite the pillow he’d slept on to muffle his moans so as to not wake his professor, especially when his fingertips graze against his already bruised prostate.

He starts with two, curling them up into his prostate and immediately scissoring them open. When the burn is pretty much gone he adds a third, whimpering as his hips buck into the mattress below him by themselves. The friction on his cock is perfect, and he has to bite his lip to keep quiet. It only takes a couple of seconds more for him to feel fully prepped.

When he deems himself ready he slowly moves to straddle Cas’ hips, making sure to rest all his weight on the mattress and not on the other man. When he’s settled he opens the lube again, hesitantly dribbling some onto his professor’s cock, before gently taking him in hand and sliding down on his cock. The overwhelming feeling of suddenly being so full nearly knocks the breath out of him entirely, and he has to take a minute to compose himself. The stretch still burns despite his prep, but he fucking loves it.

Now, sucking his professor's cock hadn’t woken him, but sinking down on it entirely sure did. He stirs first, moaning in pleasure with a hint of confusion as he blinks his bleary eyes to clarity. His hands come to rest on Dean’s thighs as he gets his barings, and Dean doesn’t think twice before he curls his hands around Cas’ wrists and moves to pin them beside his head. It’s his turn and Cas doesn’t get to stop him from doing what he wants.

He starts by simply swirling his hips in a circle, before he starts rocking back and forth, doing his best to get Cas’ cockhead to press against his prostate. It takes a few tries, but he finally finds an angle that works. He ignores his professor’s questioning, instead focussing on chasing his own pleasure. Cas starts to push against the grip on his wrists, failing as Dean puts all of his weight on them.

“Dean? What do you think you’re doing?” Cas asks, finally waking up fully.

Dean watches as he glares up at him, and smirks while rolling his hips. “Just taking what I want professor, you seem to have done the same,” he says, reaching over to grab the underwear he’d found in the bedside table. He tosses the clothes on his professor’s chest, smirking as he watches his eyes widen, before he too smirks.

“I always take what I want, Dean. I don’t recall telling you that you could do the same so soon,” he says.

Dean grins and swirls his hips, watching as his professor holds back a moan. “Oh, I’m sorry, when did we schedule it for? I seem to recall my condition being ‘next time’. This seems rather like that time to me, Novak” he chuckles.

Cas watches Dean lume above him, loving that he gets to see such strong thighs bracketing his own. He watches his student’s chest heave with deep breaths as he moves.

Cas groans as Dean bounces down on him, almost pulling off his cock completely before slamming their hips back together. Dean’s cock bounces between them, slapping up to smear pre cum on his stomach, before it smacks down onto Cas’, doing the same there. He can’t help but buck his hips up everytime he sees Dean’s cock twitch, aiming to slam up into his prostate every chance he gets.

Dean’s groans every time Cas manages to hit that sweet spot. His head gets thrown back and he bites his lip in every attempt to muffle his moans, clenching down on Cas’ cock with every swivel of his hips.

“There’s one slight flaw to your plan, Dean,” he says, watching his cock disappear inside the man above him.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” he asks, groaning as Cas’ cock brushes his prostate just right. The pleasure of the touch sends sparks up his spine, and his grip on Cas’ wrists loosens. Despite this, he doesn’t expect the next move Cas makes.

Cas thrusts his hips up as Dean bounces back down, shocking him as he uses the force of his thrust to roll him over. He snatches his wrists from Dean’s grip, and instead reaches down to wrap the younger man’s legs around his waist, never pulling out as he does.

“Shit, what are you doing?” he asks, moaning at the new angle.

“The flaw to your plan, Dean, is that we agreed you’d have your turn if you could tie me up so I couldn’t stop you. My hands seem pretty free to me,” he says, burying his face in Dean’s neck as he starts to thrust. Dean clenches his thighs around Cas’ waist with a groan of surprise.

He scrambles to bury his hands in Cas’ hair, looking for anything to hold on to as Cas rocks into him. His heels dig into the small of Cas’ back, pushing Cas’ hips further into his own.

Cas fucks into him with a brutal pace, slowly pushing him further and further up the bed. His thighs tremble at Cas’ sides as his prostate’s hit over and over again. “Or maybe it’s not a flaw…” he starts, stopping only to groan before he continues, “Maybe this is what I wanted,” he gasps.

“Oh this is what you wanted Winchester? Wanted to lose what little control you had over me? Wanted to be pinned down and fucked just like you were last night? Like when I had you over my desk?” he asks, throwing more force behind each thrust with every sentence. He sits up onto his knees, moving his hands from Dean’s waist to the back of his thighs. He pushes them up and spreads them apart, relishing in the way Deans groans turn more into high pitched whimpers as the angle changes.

“You like having control taken away? Like having no choice but to take it, Dean?” he asks, groaning when Dean clenches around him.

“Yes, god yes, keep going, don’t stop Cas!” Dean groans, his head snapping back as he bows off the bed. His thighs tremble in Cas’ grip, and he can’t help but to desperately pull at the sheets below him. Cas’ hands eventually fall from his thighs to his hips, which he grips tightly. His fingers press so tightly into Dean’s skin that he hopes there’s bruises left in his wake, and Cas uses his grip to pull Dean back down onto his cock.

“God, I’m so close,” Dean groans, reaching for his own dick, which he strips with a tight grip.

“Fuck, come on Dean, cum on my cock,” Cas moans, drilling his cock as deep as he could manage.

Dean whines as his orgasm rocks through him. Pleasure all but shoots down his spine, and he can’t hold back from curling his toes and nearly kicking his professor in the chest. Cum shoots all over him, coating his hand and his cock. It dribbles all over, dripping down the length of his cock and between his fingers.

Cas curses as he watches Dean orgasm, and his hips start to stutter in their thrusts. Dean whines through the overstimulation as his prostate is abused post-orgasm, but doesn’t stop Cas from fucking into him eratically. His groan gets caught in his chest as he presses deep inside.

Dean whimpers under his breath, relishing in the feeling as Cas suddenly cums, filling him with an unexpected warmth. His hips stutter a few more times, jerking subconsciously like he can’t help it.

His hips come to a stop, and both of them struggle to catch their breath. Their chests heave, even as Cas all but falls down onto Dean’s as he lies below him.

Dean brings his hands up, running his fingers through Cas’ hair as the older man tucks his head into his student’s neck. They lay like that for a while, not saying anything, simply basking in the afterglow. Their breathing eventually starts to slow, and Dean finally manages to bring his trembling thighs down from around Cas’ waist. The movement has Cas’ now soft dick slipping out, and Dean groans in disgust as he feels Cas’ cum drip out of his hole.

That’s when Cas’ alarm goes off, and they both groan.

“I can’t believe you kept my underwear.”