#stepson!castiel

Dean’s mouth is open, gasping and red, and his eyes are hooded and dark, watching Castiel move and writhe on his lap. Castiel sighs, leaning back, and makes a loud, choked sound as Dean’s cockhead rubs up against his prostate.

“Jesus, kid,” Dean gasps, hands tightening until that damned ring starts to hurt, rubbing against the jut of Castiel’s hipbone. “You gotta be quiet.”

Dean is pleading - proud, strong Dean is pleading with him. Castiel doesn’t understand what could possibly be keeping him here - he turned eighteen last month and Dean hasn’t done anything about this. He still kisses Castiel’s father when he comes home. He still fucks him if the rhythmic bumps against Castiel’s bathroom wall are any indication. He stills acts smitten and goes to work functions and lives under their roof and eats their food.

Castiel doesn’t bring it up. Not yet. Maybe he will, one day, but for now he’s greedy and selfish and wants to live without bills until he goes to college and fuck Dean every single night and maybe, when he leaves, Dean will follow him.

Castiel moans again, louder this time when Dean fucks up into him and throws his head back, gasping and clawing at Dean’s chest.

“Gently,” Dean warns, hissing, but he’s hot and hard inside Castiel and he likes it, he likes it when Castiel leaves his marks and it’ll be so awesome when Castiel can leave them for real and not give a fuck about who sees. “Christ, Cas, look so good ridin’ me like this.”

Does he do it for you? Does he feel this good? Castiel wants to ask, but forces himself to remain quiet, to not ruin it.

He leans in and stifles his next groan against Dean’s bitten-red mouth, feeling the familiar pool and dip of his orgasm growing, bubbling up, festering inside of him. His nails dig into Dean’s nape.

“Come in me,” he orders, his words a growl. “Come in me, and then go to bed knowing I’ll be leaking you all over the place for you to clean up later.”

Dean makes a soft, helpless sound, his hands tight on Castiel’s hips, and he fucks up one final time before his eyelids flutter and his mouth goes slack and he shudders.

Castiel hums, dropping a hand to his own cock and stroking fast and dirty until he comes with a moan over Dean’s t-shirt. Yet another thing for Dean to hide later.

Dean is blushing and ashamed when Castiel climbs off his lap, uncaring for the come and lube he’s smearing across Dean’s thighs or the mess he left on Dean’s stomach. There’s a bruise forming in the dent of where Dean’s wedding ring was.