Archive of Our Own

It’s not that Sam never learns anything from his home life. He knows how to stay focused under pressure, he knows how to hide his emotions, he knows how to assess a situation with a calm head. He knows how to survive. These are all good things, they’re just not the things he wants. Tonight is all about what he wants, about something outside of John’s rules and Dean’s overbearing need to make sure Sam stays in line.

He slows his pulse, calming his nerves, as he walks down the driveway to knock on the front door. Slow breaths in, slow breaths out.

He’s always found his teacher attractive, there’s no denying that. Nearly everyone seems to have a crush on Mr Novak, and Sam doesn’t delude himself that he’s any exception. Everyone talks about the young, hot, dark-haired mystery man who’d taken up the teaching post mere days before Sam had arrived at the school. Sam likes to think that he’s special, though, that they have a connection—that he’s not just nursing a schoolboy crush. And when Mr Novak invited him to a dinner, alone, his hope felt confirmed.

The dinner had been for all the top students in his AP classes originally, but once Mr Novak called and said that each of the other students had had to cancel Sam’s excitement sparked to life, and he’s almost giddy with it.

Of course, Dean had tried to ruin it.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out.”

“Dad’s gonna be mad, you know he wants us to run drills tonight.”

“Yeah well, I have plans.”

John hated either of them having plans that were outside of his control. Dean bought into the family line of thinking like it was the Ten Commandments and John was Abraham descending from the mountaintop.

“So you’re just going to disappoint him? Let us all down?”

“Believe it or not, pleasing you isn’t my biggest goal in life!” Sam had yelled.

Dean grabbed him by his jacket and swung him round until his back hit the fridge.

“Maybe it should be!” Dean growled. “Maybe if you just stopped screwing up—”

“Maybe you should stop trying to be Dad, I know you can be better than him!”

“Don’t bad mouth him, he’s all we’ve got.”

“Then I guess we’ve got nothing.”

It had escalated into a short brawl before they’d separated, each scowling. Sam had turned to storm off and Dean had landed one well aimed kick at his backside as Sam stomped out the door. As the door swung shut behind him Sam heard: “I’ll cover for you, just be back in the morning before he is.”

He rubs self consciously at the sore spot on his ass and tries to put the conversation out of his head. He hates that even getting along with Dean is rocky and tenuous. At least if they saw eye to eye things would be more bearable. He’s looking forward to spending the evening with someone who appreciates him for who he is, not just what he can do. Someone he actually looks up to. Someone he actually does want to please.

He knocks on the door, and his heart is beating at a steady rhythm by the time Mr Novak answers.

“Come in, Sam, it’s very good to see you!”

“Thanks for having me, sir. Where should I…?”

“Call me Cas, I insist. Come through to the back, I’m almost ready with our first course.”

“First course? As in, more than one?”

As he enters the kitchen Sam realises he’s never eaten as well as he will tonight. It seems Mr Novak is a good cook, as well as a good teacher. He explains that a few light courses are better than one loaded plateful. They talk as he works, just pleasantries and chit chat until they both grow comfortable and Sam settles onto one of the bar stools to watch him work. When Mr Novak—Cas—asks how he spent his day, Sam is only partly lying when he says he hung out with his brother. He wants nothing to do with his real life while he’s here, being the centre of attention.

He asks Sam to taste-test the first course, but instead of handing Sam the spoon, he lifts it to Sam’s lips and lets Sam slurp from it while he cups Sam’s chin with his other hand. The butterflies in Sam’s stomach flutter, and he’s sure that his teacher’s eyes linger on his lips as he licks them clean.

“It’s good.”

“Perfect, then I’ll serve up.”

Cas lightly grazes his thumb across the back of Sam’s hand as he places the bowl of soup, and Sam shivers. He decides right then and there that he can indulge his fantasy for the night, and that no harm will come of pretending that this is real, that just maybe he is desirable too. He looks into the blue of Mr Novak’s eyes and can’t help the excited blush that creeps up his face, nor the way his pants suddenly feel too tight.

They sit on the couch after dinner and talk until Sam is hoarse.

“Here, let me get you something better to drink.” Cas pours a glass of wine, pausing to look him over. Sam feels like he's burning under the scrutinizing gaze. “You can handle a little liquor, can’t you? I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Umm, sure. Yeah.” Not that he’s ever had wine before; beer stolen with Dean from John’s stash, yes, but never wine served in someone’s living room with the lights down low and the windows thrown open to let in the early summer scents.

“I remember being your age, trying to act older and finding excitement in that. Not that I think you have to act or pretend to be older than your age, it comes pretty naturally to you, doesn’t it?” Cas says as he hands Sam the wineglass.

Sam is flattered by that, his pride glowing under the light of being seen. “I’m glad you think so. I’m sick of being treated like a kid.” He contemplates telling Cas about all the shit he puts up with at home, and how he feels older than his peers because of it, but feels like that will ruin the mood.

“I imagine moving around a lot doesn’t help. It’s tough always being the new guy.”

“I’m used to it but I don’t like it.”

Cas’s shuffles closer and leans in to squeeze Sam's shoulder. “You handle yourself very well. I’m a bit of a nomad myself too, never in one place for long.”

“Really? Where else have you been?” He swallows hard and sips another mouthful of wine as Cas’s hand trails around to settle on the back of his neck.

Cas rattles off a list of states and Sam nods at the places he’s also lived. He curses his inability to put words into sentences, but all he can think about is the spot where Cas’s thumb rubs circles into the nape of his neck.

“Is this okay?” Cas asks. “You looked tense.”

“It’s fine. Uhh, nice.”

“Good.” Cas twirls a lock of Sam’s hair around his fingers and tugs slightly. The rush of sensation sends blood straight to Sam’s cock and he shifts. Clears his throat.

“Do you… like it here?” He asks, voice a bit strangled.

“Very much so. Especially on nights like these.”

Sam’s eyebrows raise, and he feels a stab of jealousy. “I’m sure you get a lot of dates.”

Cas laughs and reaches for his own drink, taking a mouthful before he speaks. “I meant the weather.”

“Oh, fuck. Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“But your company is nice too,” Cas interrupts. “Though we probably shouldn’t call it a date, people would frown upon it.” Cas smiles kindly at him, but his hand drops to Sam’s knee and sits there, warmth seeping through Sam’s jeans.

“What should we call it?” He can’t stop looking at the hand touching him.

“Whatever you like. You’re old enough to be smart about this, aren’t you.”

“Old enough for a lot of things,” Sam lifts his chin, daring Cas to contradict him, which he doesn’t. His head is swimming, this is all moving so fast, he can’t tell if he’s reading between the lines right but he’s trying.

Cas leans over, gently letting his head sway nearer and nearer to Sam’s own. “Things like this?”

Their lips meet in a soft press, a chaste joining that disappears as quickly as it started. Sam leans forward, trying to chase the contact. Desperate, suddenly. “Yes, things like that.”

“Are you sure?” Cas asks, cupping Sam’s face with one hand.

“Of course I’m sure, you don’t have to baby me!”

“You do have a smart mouth when you get riled up, you know.” Cas smiles. “You really should work on that.”

“Maybe some other time,” Sam says, mouth dry. This feels like dreaming, like fantasy come to life. Everything about the night is a strange diorama in a bubble, glowing and bright and swirling; almost surreal. This shouldn’t happen but he’s very glad that it is.

“Maybe I should give your mouth something else to focus on.”

They kiss again, and Sam is a rookie, he barely knows what he’s doing. Cas lifts the wine glass out of his hand and he follows the way Cas leads and they sway forward, then back, their faces never more than an inch apart. It’s wet and warm, and he’s breathless before he knows it.

Cas pulls away suddenly; in sharp contrast to the smooth motions of the kiss he jerks until there’s space between them. “I shouldn’t. I got carried away. Forgive me Sam.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” He insists, mentally flicking through things that might convince Cas to resume what they started.“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Cas’s eyes light up and he nods eagerly. “Right, of course. You can keep a secret. I can trust you, can’t I?”

Sam shrugs, hoping he looks casual. “What’s to tell. We’re just two people kissing.”

“Indeed. I knew I could see that you’re wiser than your years.” Cas leans in, closer, shifting a hand to lay on Sam’s stomach. They kiss again and Sam’s cock throbs, trapped in his jeans, and he hopes it isn’t leaving a noticeable wet spot.

“Sir…” he gasps, as they pull away to catch their breath.

Cas groans. “Don’t call me ‘sir’ like this, you must just call me Cas.”

“Kiss me again and I won’t have to call you anything.”

“So demanding.”

But he does kiss Sam again, separating just long enough to say: “You need to communicate with me, alright? That’s what adults do, we talk, we tell each other what we want.”

Sam nods emphatically. “Sure.” He wonders what there could possibly be to tell. They’re just two people kissing, what’s wrong with that?

“I mean it, show me you trust my respect in you. I want to make this evening good for you Sam.”

When they join again, there’s hands involved too; around necks and rubbing circles across cheekbones. Sam is a fish out of water but if Cas minds he’s nice enough not to mention it and Sam tries to mirror his movements in a way that isn’t obvious. He melts into Cas, losing himself in every motion, every give and take. All of it, good.

Later, when Cas’s fingers find their way to the hem of Sam’s pants, it’s another matter. He jolts, squeaking, and feels utterly frozen. Instead of being full of desire, his mind is blank, there’s just nothing. Cas’s hands work at his button and he pulls away. He needs a moment to think, he needs to be able to think. What happened to his cool, calm head? What happened to knowing how to control the situation? Where did that side of him go?

“I’ve made you uncomfortable?” Cas asks.

“No, no I just…” he searches for the right thing to say, worried about seeming childish. “Can I use the bathroom?”

Cas brightens instantly and Sam breathes out in relief. “I’ll show you where it is.”

Cas leads him through the house and up the stairs. The problem, though, is that Cas doesn’t leave once they get there. He stands there looking in the mirror and messing with his hair. Sam clears his throat, hoping that he’ll get the message.

“Feel free, I won’t look.”

When Sam still doesn’t move Cas rolls his eyes and sighs. “Just pretend you’re at a urinal, it’s no big deal. I’ll just get what we need for later.” He starts rifling through the cupboards and Sam inches over to the toilet bowl and unzips himself.

He’s still hard and it takes a few moments of listening to Cas’s off-key whistling and thinking about the most boring things in the world before he’s soft enough to piss. When he finishes and tucks himself away, he turns to wash up. Cas catches his wrists with a smie, as he pulls Sam toward the sink.

Sam presses his lips together, he’s not had chance to catch his bearings and every moment with Cas in the room puts him more off kilter. Cas washes Sam’s hands for him, it’s intimate, calming somehow and the buzz in Sam’s brain slowly disappears until he feels sort of… numb.

“Are you ready to continue? We could move to the bedroom? It’s right down the hall.” Cas cups his cock through his pants and Sam squirms right into the contact. He might be in two minds but his body knows exactly what it wants.

“I’m just, yeah, we can, I’m just.” He licks his lips and Cas grins at him and then licks them too, slipping his tongue between them in a way that steals Sam's breath. “I’ve never…”

“You’re a virgin?” Cas’s hands find his waist and hold him steady. Sam nods. “That’s perfect, just perfect.”

Sam scowls and Cas laughs and rubs a thumb over the frown lines on his forehead.

“I know, it’s all new for you. So let me guide us, Sam.”

Which is how he ends up on his back, on Cas’s bed, with Cas slowly working his pants down his hips. His shirt and footwear are already discarded, and he has a laundry list of concerns rattling through his head. Should he stop this, now? Has it already gone too far? Kissing was one thing but—

Cas chooses that moment to kiss his cock and Sam makes a strangled noise. No-one has ever touched him there before, not without clothes in the way.

“Shh, there you go. You look great disheveled like this.”

“I do?”

“Yes. I know no-one will have told you before, but you’re irresistible.” Cas pulls Sam’s pants over his ankles and throws them off the bed.

“I’m not sure you should be saying that. Not sure we should be doing this at all,” he mumbles.

“Hmm, is that your nerves talking?” Cas opens his mouth and swallows down Sam’s cock and Sam loses his train of thought. He’s surrounded by heat and it’s so much more intense than he expected, Cas’s tongue roves over him, almost massaging. It goes on and on and Sam’s eyelids flutter closed. He doesn’t know what he wants, he doesn’t know why he wants to leave when it feels this good, but his heart is jack-rabbiting in his chest and losing all his blood to his cock is making him light headed.

He tries to push Cas off with his hands while he gulps down air. Cas only twines their fingers together and keeps going.

“Cas, I need a minute. Just a minute.”

Cas pulls off and settles his head on Sam’s thighs. “Take all the time you need,” he murmurs and peppers kisses to Sam’s legs, his hands stroking down to Sam’s ankles and back up. “We’re going to use a condom, and everything will be safe, I promise.”

“R-right. Yeah?” Sam hadn’t even… hadn’t even thought that far ahead, and that’s probably a bad thing, isn’t it? If he can’t think about how to be safe, then he’s not really ready, right?

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Cas moves away to begin removing his own clothes and makes a show of pulling condoms out of a drawer.

“I’m not sure?”

“What do you feel?” Cas asks, tumbling back onto the bed next to him and peppering his skin with kisses.

He wants to say ‘scared’ but then Cas wraps a hand around his cock and it sends pleasure up his spine.

“A lot, a lot of everything.”

“Good things?”

“Some? I guess?”

“The sensations are a lot, you’ll get used to it. It’s a learning process, let me teach you. Let me show you.” Cas rolls the condom on and it’s almost mesmerising, Cas looks so big and heavy Sam can’t understand how that will fit… anywhere.

“Isn’t this enough, for now? We could do more, go further, another time? I liked kissing,” he offers.

“Things can feel so much better than just kissing. I know you’re nervous, and new at this, but kissing is just the first step.”

There’s the pop of a bottle cap, and Cas’s hands spread his legs, and he’s cold and hot all at once. Fingers, cool with lube, trace his crack, dip further and he’s about to protest when Cas smothers him with a kiss. Fingers breach him and he groans into Cas’s mouth. He loses time, lost between the twin sensations of tongue and fingers steadily dipping into him, making him wet at both ends. It’s intrusive and his erection flags, he’s not aroused, only confused.

He starts to feel loose, mouth slack and gasping while his hole relaxes around Cas’s fingers. Cas makes wanton noises against his mouth, rocking their bodies together. He shakes his head and Cas shushes him. Fingers pull out and trace his cock instead and the pleasure curls down to his toes before it zips back to his brain in a feedback loop.

“Taking it so well, always a brilliant student.” Cas nips at his lips and shuffles down his body. Sam looks at the ceiling, sees strange patterns in the paint and closes his eyes.

Dean’s voice comes to him Are you just going to let us down? He never wants to let anyone down, but he always does, why should now be any different? The thought settles heavily but comfortably, what’s one more person let down? He feels the thicker, rounded shape of something between his legs he shoots up, rests on his elbows and tries to draw his knees together.

“Wait!”

Cas pauses. “Sam?”

“No more. I… I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Cas tilts his head and pulls a face. His hands don’t leave Sam’s body, trailing lingering touches over his heated skin. He wants to shut off his brain and focus only on that but he can’t stop thinking about the way his ass is about to be used and how sick and scared that makes him feel. Can’t stop the weird sense of displeasure that ripples through him at the intimate feel of things inside him.

“What is that you do want?”

“To go back to how it was before? Just, to stop.”

“Do you really think we can go back? Just like that? We’ve come so far, I can make you feel so good.” Cas touches his cock again, curls his hand just right. “I know you want to feel good.”

“Good? Y-yeah. But some of it doesn’t—”

“It will, I’ll make sure it does. Give me time.”

“I don’t think I like it.”

“You like me, don’t you?” Cas leans down to kiss across his stomach.

“Yes?”

“And you like being touched?”

“I guess?”

Cas nudges at his face, presses their lips together, rolls his hips so that they’re flush, skin on heated skin. “So what’s the problem?”

The problem is that he’s confused, and uncertain, and the only way he knows how to fix that is to go deep inside his head, or lose himself in books and not resurface until things are better. The problem is that he wants to go home. But Cas said he had to be honest so maybe if he mans up and just says what he needs then he can find equilibrium again.

“You said that adults—”

“And are you an adult Sam? How old are you?”

He juts out his chin, the way he always does when he’s feeling defiant about being the younger brother. “Nearly sixteen.”

“So, fifteen. And do you think, at fifteen, you’re fully aware of what you want? Isn’t it possible I might have a better read on things than you do?”

He rubs the comforter back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. Searching for the moment Cas will crack into a smile and tell Sam of course we’ll stop, or of course we can slow down. It doesn’t come, Cas only trails his hands over Sam’s chest and huffs a sigh, seems frustrated.

“I was fifteen once too, and if I’d had someone more experienced to show me a good time…”

Cas parts his legs with a knee between Sam’s thighs and draws him back down the bed until he’s flat on his back again. Sam makes a strangled noise, heart racing. He grips Cas’s shoulders until his fingertips turn white, alternately trying to push him away and hold on for dear life. Cas rips his hands away and lifts them over his head, holds him down by the wrists in a way that strains Sam’s arms. Cas plants a knee on either side of his hips, stopping him from twisting away. He squirms, and when he can’t find an inch to exploit, he falls still, panting.

“There, doesn’t that feel better?”

He isn’t sure, but there’s nowhere to go even if he could follow his own trains of thought. He can’t struggle free, his body feels untethered to him. Cas rearranges again, until he’s between Sam’s legs and looming over him. He rocks forwards until Sam feels it. Feels Cas. He moans, high and thready, and Cas laughs.

“Let it all out you don’t have to be quiet.”

“Sir, Cas, umm—”

“Sir is fine.”

That rocks through Sam’s mind like a thunderclap, how are all the rules changing? Cas smiles at him, licking his lips, a bead of sweat rolls down from his hairline and Sam’s eyes follow it even as he arches away from the intrusion nudging at his hole.

“What do I say? Or do?” What do you say, when the one thing you wanted to say most was ignored?

“Nothing, or anything you like, but I don’t think you need to say ‘stop’ or ‘no’ anymore do you? We got that all out of your system, didn’t we?” Cas ceases moving, except for his dick, which twitches, just catching on Sam’s rim.

His hole clenches. Cas is looking at him with such fondness, with the expectation he holds in his gaze when he wants Sam to do well; patient but waiting. Sam can’t bear to let him down, he wants the look that comes later, the one of pride and approval. “I feel sort of strange, still.”

Cas inches forwards again. His hole gives, and Cas is inside him. A little. Then more. He honest-to-god whimpers and he hates that sound coming from his own mouth. It’s the sound he makes when he’s fought with John, or Dean, and has a bruised backside that aches whenever he sits down. He doesn’t want to make that sort of sound here. He bites his tongue.

“You only feel strange,” Cas says in breathless gasps. “Because it’s your first time. That’s normal.”

He goes tight as a bowstring as Cas thrusts in further, but that makes it hurt and he gasps. Cas lets go of his wrists but Sam doesn’t move them from their spot on the pillow. Cas’s moves his hips and his hands. He strokes Sam’s belly, under his arms, cupping his face; one ends up between his legs, rubs his thigh, and then cups below his knee to bend it back, out and up. He’s warm all over and the shared body heat makes him limp, the touches feel like jolts of electricity that force his muscles in place. Like Cas is telling them how to be, and what he’s saying is: wait there, hold still, be good. He was sure it would be more like a dance, like working together in tandem, a give and take. He feels more like a doll, or a pageant girl, positioned and then praised for being just so.

Cas works his way deeper and Sam feels tears prick his eyes. Cas is touching him everywhere, all at once. He writhes as Cas finally changes angles and brushes something inside that feels strange. That feels good. It promises more, like the first touch to his cock. It spreads heat through his groin when Cas does it again, and again. His cock jumps and Cas laughs.

Finally fully seated, Cas lets out a moan and lowers down onto his elbows above Sam. Sam feels trapped under his weight, like he can’t breathe, can’t think. His cock brushes on both their stomachs, slick with sweat, and every tiny shift causes friction. He’s gone soft with the uncertainty and the hint of pain and the embarrassment chokes him.

Cas hasn’t noticed, though, he doesn’t think.

Cas starts to rock again, slow little rolls of his hips and Sam feels his thick length nudge even further inside him. He feels forced open. It’s not unpleasant but it’s odd, and he hasn’t adjusted. Cas keeps jabbing forward, even when there’s nowhere else for him to go.

“W-Wait, wait, I—”

Cas covers his lips, presses down and holds Sam’s words behind his teeth. “Fucks sake, Sam. Be quiet, if you have nothing useful to contribute.”

He mumbles words that are trapped behind Cas’s palm. He’s lost, looking for a lifeline, reaching out for reassurance and all it gets him is smothered. His own hot breath huffs back on his face, caught behind the hand gagging his mouth.

He blinks and everything comes into sudden, sharp focus. The room, the open window letting in cool night air, the world that exists beyond the bed. Blue tinted sky through the gap in the curtains, the ceiling fan that’s stationary and hangs above them, the smell of their food on Cas’s breath.

His teacher is on top of him, inside him. That’s not… that’s not normal, is it? He wanted this before, but now? Now…

Cas’s other hand slides between them, he circles Sam’s dick and Sam surges up to meet the heat with a groan, thoughts chased away. He likes the touch, he likes the feeling it brings and he knows he shouldn’t. He knows he can’t get away and he knows, somewhere deep down, that he doesn’t deserve to get away. He let this happen, he pursued this, if he’s so twisted and wrong to try and seduce a teacher he deserves to feel every ounce of confusion that’s rippling through his body.

“Come on, get hard for me again Sam, I know you can.”

Mortification burns swiftly across his skin and he tries to turn his head away. He’s held down and pinned in every way, by Cas’s expectations more than anything. He should have said stop sooner, should have turned Cas down before they ever made it to the bedroom, and none of it means a thing now. Cas barrelled past every defence he had and now he’s trying to help Sam even though Sam screwed it all up.

Cas’s hand leaves his lips and brushes his hair aside and Sam screws his eyes shut. The weight on him lifts, slightly, and then Cas begins to thrust in earnest. Sam’s breath comes in tandem with the jolts of motion, punching little gasps from him.

Cas is so big he can almost feel it in his throat. Stuffed all the way up like he’s going to choke on it. He realises belatedly it’s not just the fucking, it’s Cas’s tongue shoved into his mouth, licking deeper and deeper. Sam groans and Cas strokes his cock faster in answer. He curls his tongue back in surprise and Cas teases it back with a flick of his own.

There’s too many dual sensations, too many things and he can’t focus on any of them. Everything he does right is by accident because there’s no room to move, or think; he can only react to all the ways Cas touches him that he didn’t know to expect. The shell of his ear, the hollow of his throat, the crease of his thigh, the inside of wrists.

He keeps shaking his head but his body wants it, and when Cas pulls back from the kiss he looks so pleased, glowing with pride. Sam put that look there and it turns his stomach and he doesn’t dare make it go away. His heaving breaths turn into soft crying, just a few errant tears that trail down to pool in his ears, but it doesn’t matter. Of course it doesn’t matter, when has what he wanted ever mattered? He’s not sure Cas even sees.

“Good boy,” Cas praises him.

“...yeah?”

“So hard for me right now, aren’t you?”

Sam looks down between them and almost jumps in surprise to see his cock hard and leaking inside Cas’s fist. Cas pulls out and moves down the bed and sucks the head of Sam's cock into his mouth again and Sam’s hips pump up into the wet heat. Insistent hands start rolling him over and his arms end up pinned beneath his own weight.

“Why, did I do something…?”

“Better angle,” Cas pants behind him. “I want to see you in every position Sam, take you in every way.”

He’s flat on his belly, burying his face in the mattress; he feels too exposed with Cas looking at his ass. Hands pull his hips up and he shuffles onto his knees. He’s dizzy, swaying, and everything feels like it’s the wrong way up.

“There,” Cas breathes, pulling his cheeks apart. “Winking at me.”

Sam’s voice gets strangled in his throat as Cas kisses his ass, cheeks first and then his hole. At that he yells in pleasure and loses whatever he was going to say, and the dizziness swells over him in a surge.

“Fuck you look good. Even without doing anything, you’re almost perfect.”

“I’m sorry, I’m bad… at this.” He isn’t sure why he’s apologising, except the admonishment seemed to demand it.

He feels Cas settle on the bed, turns his head to see him lining up and his breath catches in his throat. Maybe some part of him thought it was over, maybe it’s just seeing Cas from this angle, maybe it’s the emptiness he feels and knowing it’s about to feel full again—but he whimpers.

“Shh,” Cas soothes, strokes up his leg like he’s comforting a frightened animal. But Sam isn’t an animal and he isn’t frightened, exactly, something in him is craving this, yearning for more heat and more warmth and to be touched again until he can stop thinking. It’s just… he wishes that it were different, now that it’s happening. Someone his own age, maybe. Someone who was also experiencing it for the first time. The gravity and knowledge in Cas’s eyes, that he knows what he wants and how to get it, it’s startling and overwhelming.

“You can be so good for me, can’t you?” Cas smiles.

It’s the same tone of voice he uses in the classroom and his mind jumps to the challenge. He’s been taught to please the voice, to win Cas round, to show what he’s worth and what he can do. He finds himself nodding and Cas picks up his hand and brings it to his ass.

“Right here, hold yourself open for me.”

Sam squeezes his fingers into the meat of his ass and pulls it aside. The warmth of Cas presses up behind him and he breathes out, and breathes out, and breathes out. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t get off the bed, why he doesn’t close his legs, except that doing so now would disappoint them both, and that’s the last thing he wants.

Cas slides in, one slow juddering movement that racks Sam to his core. Cas is everywhere and everything, all there is; he feels it in his stomach, the burn of his thighs from the position, the weight bearing down on his back, the fullness inside him. There’s the softness of the fabric beneath him, and the light headedness he feels, and there’s Cas, and nothing else.

“There, beautiful, you’re taking it beautifully.”

“I am?” Sam’s out of breath and he isn’t sure why, he’s barely moved, but it’s like there isn’t enough oxygen in the room to fill his lungs. He’s always been able to control his breathing, and this has ruined it, he can’t control anything, even his basic bodily functions.

“Yes, you’re perfect.”

“Thanks, umm thank you.”

“Tell me how it feels.”

Sam burns with embarrassment because there he goes, doing it wrong again. “S-sorry.” His words break as Cas jolts them both forward. “Big, you, you’re big. I’m not sure I—” he was going to say not sure I like it but that feels like an error all over again. “Not sure I’m used to it.”

“You will be. Are you hot for me? All turned on?” Cas reaches between his legs and feels his rock-hard cock and Sam squirms, which just drives Cas deeper. “You are, you’re ready to come aren’t you?”

Sam nods desperately against the bedspread, his body is practically screaming at him. Mixed signals fight against each other and there’s shame jutting up next to need, desire lying down to shrivel up next to anxiety and all of it screams no no no. Every nerve he has is alight.

“Will I? I mean, is that what will happen?” he needs an instruction manual, to know what to expect. He’s better when he knows the order of things, can prepare for a sequence of events, and this is so far from how he thought he’d feel, or how he thought it would happen. Any information he’d gleaned from rom-coms and pornos is falling uselessly by the wayside.

“If we give you a little hand,” Cas says between thrusts. The movement is more powerful from this angle, and Sam is pushed periodically further up the bed until his hair brushes the headboard.

Cas grabs for more lube and spreads the slick liquid across Sam’s palm, and guides the hand around Sam’s cock. There’s barely a pause while all this happens and then Cas drapes himself over Sam’s back. Sam whines, quietly, in the back of his throat. He feels squashed, claustrophobic, with no room to move and muscles that won’t obey his command anyway.

“There we go, good boy. So good.” Cas drives forward and grinds against Sam’s ass.

The praise sings insides Sam’s veins. A balm, a tonic, a soothing touch. He’s full of Cas in every way, right down to the marrow of his bones; he wants to please and be pleased. In the same way his heart leaps to be noticed in the classroom— the only good place he has—he longs to gain Cas’s approval here, too. His pulse rockets up at each touch and he can’t bear to let his mentor down.

“I wanna be, I want to be good,” he hums to himself, mostly.

“You are, you will be. Fuck, feel amazing, Sam. So tight for me.”

He is, he’s fit to burst. He feels swollen with it, it’s in his guts. Every sensation is heightened by the adrenaline pumping around his body that has nowhere to go now that he’s trapped under Cas’s weight.

His hand is still around his cock and he gets friction every time Cas drives forwards. It’s not enough, but it’s something. It keeps his body alight, interested, keeps him grounded instead of floating off to watch this happen from the ceiling.

Cas fucks him at a steady pace, breathing heavily and Sam feels Cas’s sweat rubbing off on his own bare skin. Cas bites down on the back of his neck and it hurts until Cas licks the abraded skin and it tingles in a way that feels good, that travels down Sam’s spine to his groin. He’s hot all over, heat prickles along his skin and doubly so where he touches Cas. It feels like being sick, being ill and feverish only in a way his body seems to like. Cas’s movements grow aborted, jerky and stuttering and he groans above Sam, deeps throaty noises that reverberate through the air. The pressure and the sensory overload make him limp again, only Cas’s grip keeping his hips raised.

“God, Sam, fuck. There, there, almost. So good for me. Stay still, right there.” Cas grinds forward with one last bout of energy and heat builds and overflows from Sam’s ass, bringing with it the clarity that Cas has come in him, without a condom. He wonders where that got discarded, wonders where it went that he didn’t notice. Wonders if he should even care, now that it’s happened anyway.

“Sam?”

“Mmm?”

“Did you…?” Cas reaches between his legs. “Here, come on, while it still feels good.”

“I’m sorry,” he struggles to get the words out. “I… I meant to. Is it bad that we… didn’t, together?”

“Mm, no,” Cas shifts a little so he can reach around Sam more easily. “As much as porn will tell you, it’s not uncommon for partners to climax at different times.”

Sam winces at the sensation of Cas beginning to soften inside him, surprised that he notices. But Cas only grinds again and it rubs on the spot inside him that feels good. At the same time Cas strips his cock, efficiently, almost mechanically, and within moments he spills with a soft groan that he tries to choke down his throat, and to swallow back the tears that fill his eyes.

Cas rolls them over, spooning behind Sam and wrapping an arm around his waist. He lets out a breathy sigh and buries his nose in the hair at the nape of Sam’s neck. Sam squirms, trying to get comfortable, his arm is trapped beneath him and his legs feel numb.

“Um. Cas. Uhh, you.” He tries to pull away and Cas holds him tighter.

“What's the matter Sam?”

“Can you… I mean. It’s just. You’re-still-inside-me.”

“I am.” He feels Cas smile against the back of his neck. “It’s intimate, no? It’s a nice way to end things, just to wait.”

Sam burns, he’s had enough of feeling like a chastised child. “It feels odd. Please, let me…” he tries to wriggle away and makes a disgusted noise as he rolls into the puddle of his own come. “This is gross. Back off.”

Cas laughs and finally pulls out. “There’s that bratty side again.”

Sam makes to get out of bed and a rough, hard grip on his wrist holds him steady. “Somewhere to be?”

“I should get going, aren’t we done?” He was so relieved that they were done.

“Going to fuck me and run out the door? That’s not very polite Sam. Lay back down, you’re fine, you did fine, it’s all okay. Let’s savor this, you deserve it.”

Cas’s voice is full of warmth, kindness, encouragement. It mixes everything up in his head and he finds himself nodding tentatively. The swing between frustration and… what is this, submission? Leaves him dizzy. He’s glad of the bed, suddenly. Glad to be laid down. Tiredness descends like a blanket, leaden and heavy.

“There, good boy.”

“It’s weird when you say that.”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s just… weird.”

Cas hums and leans over to his bedside. He comes back with a wet wipe and kisses across Sam’s collar bone as he wipes up the come staining Sam’s stomach.

“You can stay the night, you know. I can drive you home in the morning.”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He doesn’t know what to say. How can he never know what to say, anymore? “Shouldn’t I leave?” Can’t I leave?

“I don’t mind, I like having you here, and it’s the least I can do. You were so, so good for me.”

Cas moves down the bed, pushes insistently at Sam’s legs and he moves them numbly. Cold air hits his hole and Cas tenderly wipes up the crack of his ass. He jolts, cursing under his breath. Cas doesn’t just wipe once, he goes back a second time, his fingers linger.

Fingers, not the wet cloth. Fingers that probe and pull as his rim. Cas looks at his ass so intently, and Sam feels outside of his body again. It’s admiration, in the look, and he made that happen. He glows, pride in his ability to endure overtakes his discomfort for a second and he smiles quietly to himself. Cas experimentally pokes a finger inside him. Rubs it around the inside of Sam’s sensitive walls and Sam watches Cas examining him.

“Beautiful. Sweetheart do you know you’re beautiful, like this?”

Sam slams into his body, aware of the room, the ceiling, the windows, the neighbours, the bedspread, the way he is spread. He’s so sensitive to touch now, and Cas gets a second wet wipe to clean his cock and between that and the fingers nudging at his hole he writhes.

“S-stop! I can’t, you’re… you’re too fucking much. Cas!”

Cas grins, and shrugs. “Sorry, you're too tempting. Let’s just lay down.”

Cas heaves the top sheet out from under them and drapes it over their bodies. He pulls Sam close and Sam can feel both of their heartbeats. One is fast—his. One is slow and sleepy; Cas drums steady fingers on Sam’s breastbone and Sam begins to count the taps. One. Two. Three. Four.

“Thank you, Sam. I hope I gave you a good first time,” Cas says eventually, half asleep.

Sam doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t feel anything. Five six. Seven eight nine.

He thinks Cas falls asleep, and wonders if he can slip out of bed and out the door, the house, the street, without being noticed. He needs to get somewhere to think. Somewhere with books and paper, that’s quiet, where he can process. Where maybe he can start to focus on what felt good, because it’s supposed to feel good, isn’t it? It’s supposed to feel like the best night.

It does, in a way. Being spoiled, doted on— seen and heard and adored. Being the center of somebody's world for a few hours. That felt great. Everything that happened up here, that just feels… sticky, in his mind. Like a film of dirty water obscuring his view and he can’t see beyond it. He tries to wriggle free and Cas sighs and leans more of his weight on him. Heaviness pulls at his limbs and a few tears leak onto the pillow.

As time passes he counts his own heartbeat to see if it’s steady, and it is. It’s slow, leisurely. Drumming towards sleep. Tiredness overtakes his need to leave and he’s closing his eyes before he means to. Sleep pulls him under in fits and starts, and Cas is steady and solid behind him.

He’s not sure, but at some point, later, there’s pressure between his legs again and Cas grunts as he shifts around.

No, he can’t be sure, halfway between sleep and waking, but it feels like Cas sheaths his cock back inside Sam’s ass. It feels different, being soft, and so maybe he imagines it. Maybe it’s just a dream.

He just knows that in the morning, when it’s gone, and gets to leave, he’ll be able to catch his bearings again. And then, maybe, everything will start to make sense.

Cas wakes with the dawn, as always. As he stretches, forcing his limbs to wake. Turning over he finds his bed still contains one young boy; naked and fast asleep. A grin spreads across his face, accompanied by a soft Oh fuck and his morning wood gets just that little bit harder.

Sam is as beautiful in sleep as ever. Hair mussed and fanning across the pillow, he has one arm shoved under his head and the other curled protectively over his belly. Cas watches him for a long time; the rise and fall of his chest and the way his face scrunches up, lost in dreams.

He lays next to Sam and until he feels fully awake, coffee be damned this is a much better wake up call. Sam is exquisite.

Cas is thrilled with his conquest, he knows he pushed all of Sam’s boundaries aside and he’s impressed he managed to do it so artfully. Sam didn’t have to be physically subdued (mostly, anyway— although the memory of holding Sam’s hands above his head, of muffling his words with a palm, gets Cas groaning into the crook of his elbow), he gave up the fight at a few small looks, some stern words, and reminding Sam of his need to please.

Removing the condom in the middle was, without a doubt, a risk. Sam didn’t mention it though, and he must have felt it. The thing that tickles him pink is that if he could get away with all of that with Sam barely protesting after the fact—ignoring Sam’s feeble attempts to leave, which were once again squashed within moments—then so long as he plays his cards right it seems like he can keep doing whatever the hell he pleases. Dozens, hundreds, of ideas of things he could insist upon once the boy wakes flit through his mind. He is itching to touch, and can’t resist skimming his fingertips over the back of Sam’s hand.

Sam doesn’t stir and Cas gets a little bolder. He lifts Sam hand, slowly, without jostling it, until he can slip his own underneath. He holds back a moan at how sweet and innocent Sam looks with his skinny hand cradled in one of Cas’s thicker ones. Sam will be tall, one day, but he isn’t at his full height yet and as Cas leans over him he feels larger. In control.

It takes some careful rearranging, but Cas manoeuvres so he can rest his chin on his hand next to Sam’s hip. Inch by inch he pulls the boy’s hand toward his mouth until he can suck Sam’s fingers between his lips. He runs the pad of his tongue over the soft digits, and watches for signs of wakefulness. Sam tosses his head slightly, but that’s all. Once he settles again, Cas closes a seal around Sam’s first two fingers and sucks.

Sam moans in his sleep and thrusts his hips up a little, but the rhythm of his breathing doesn’t change and Cas smiles around the fingers in his mouth. He could ruin Sam, so easily, and he doesn’t mind taking his time.

He sucks, licks, swirls his tongue around. He pushes the fingers between his cheek and teeth, sucking them deeper into the warmth of his mouth. He gets the ring finger in too, and works on all three until they’re dripping and Sam keeps making soft, breathy, huffing moans. He slides his other hand until he can feel the hard line of Sam’s cock beneath the sheet. It twitches under his fingers and he strokes lovingly down the length.

Sam stirs more at that and Cas holds still until he falls back under. He presses a palm to Sam’s morning wood, now much more pronounced than it was before, just to feel the hot swell of it. He leans over to mouth at it through the sheet, hot breath and wet air pushed delicately into the mound under the bedclothes. Sam gasps, eyelids fluttering, and that’s his cue to stop.

Teasing the poor boy isn’t really in good taste when he isn’t awake to benefit from it, but Sam is just so damn tempting.

Gently climbing from the bed he pulls on a pair of sleep pants and happily meanders downstairs with a smile and spring in his step.

As he’s on his second cup of coffee, looking out the window and wondering about breakfast, he hears floorboards creak above him. He doesn’t go and pry, wanting to see what Sam will do.

He hears the bathroom being used, and some shuffling around. He pours coffee into a second mug and wanders toward the hallway as he hears the soft padding of socked feet down the stairs. He watches, fascinated, as Sam tip-toes across the wooden boards of the hallway and tries to open the front door without making a sound. The door is locked, of course, and Sam tugs a little harder, his shoulders up near his ears as he winces at the sound.

“Going somewhere?” Cas asks from the kitchen doorway.

Sam spins around, wide eyed with his shoes in hand, and his eyes flick over the scene. It seems like the poor boy is looking for a way out and Cas has to suppress a smile and school his features into a disapproving expression.

“Well?”

“I should get home,” Sam says in a small voice.

“It’s rude to leave without saying goodbye. Come into the kitchen like a good boy, I made coffee.”

He doesn’t wait to see if Sam follows, sure that he will. He places Sam’s cup on the island counter and leans by the sink, in front of the window, blocking Sam’s route to the only other exit.

Sam noisily drops his shoes and picks up the cup, taking a long whiff and a small sip.

“Sleep well?” Cas asks, jovially.

Sam nods into his coffee cup. He squirms beautifully. “Still a bit tired though,” he shrugs.

“You had a big night,” Cas replies.

Sam bites his lip and nods, not meeting his teacher’s eyes.

“Not a morning person, I take it?”

Sam shrugs again. “Just… not sure what to say. You’re being weird again.”

“And you’re being sullen and unappreciative, so we all have our burdens to bear. I thought you were better than this.” He watches as Sam opens his mouth to speak, flushes bright red, and can almost see the boy’s mental cogs turning to find a way to answer without admitting to bad behaviour.

There’s no way for Sam to win—Cas would just change the game. Sam seems to realise this and drops his head, slowly placing the coffee cup back where he found it.

“You were gorgeous last night, Sam,” Cas says, voice softer, lower. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

The change in topic and tone has the desired effect and Sam looks up, startled. “Uhh... sure? Th—” the boy swallows nervously, shifting where he stands. “Thanks.”

“Just the memory of it, makes me almost ready for another round.” Cas cups the front of his pyjama pants as he says it, drawing Sam’s eyes to the bulge there. “Did you wake up hard, Sam?”

“No.” The lie drips from Sam’s mouth as easily as breathing and Cas smiles at the small defiance. His chin is raised, daring Cas to question him, which of course Cas doesn’t do, just to throw him off balance.

“That’s odd, for a man with your youthful stamina.”

Sam takes half a step back and bumps into the fridge. He winces. “I’m still… still a little sore,” he ventures.

“Relaxing with a morning orgasm will help with that. There’s still so much I can teach you, isn’t that amazing?”

“I really do need you to drive me home,” Sam says, moving to pick up his shoes.

Cas walks around the edge of the island, pulling his pants low enough to let his erection pop free. “I can’t drive like this, it wouldn’t be safe. You want us to be safe, don’t you?”

Sam’s breathing picks up as he sees the leaking red cock peeking between Cas’s closed fist. It’s like watching a painting come to life, the innocence written over his face, slowly being pulled back like a curtain as the haunted look in his eyes grows a little stronger. And then something shifts, and Sam’s demeanour changes, his eyes grow hard and he clenches his jaw, like he’s made a decision. And there is the little brat, and the defiant anger, that drew Cas to him in the first place. He is strong, this one, and that will make it all the sweeter when he gives in anyway.

“I can earn my lift home,” he says, looking Cas in the eye for the first time that morning. “I can be good for you.”

“Of course you can, my good boy.” Cas walks over to stroke Sam’s hair and down his cheek. “You’re wonderful.”

“You like talking like that, don’t you.”

It isn’t a question. He realises that Sam is figuring out exactly what he’s doing. He’s smart, and Cas does admire that. Doesn’t mean he’s smart enough to get himself out of the mess he’s in, though. But it does seem like Sam is going to be the perfect challenge.

“To you, yes, I do. Now, have you ever given a blowjob?”

The boy shakes his head and Cas grins. "Well, I won't tell if you don't.” He holds back the urge to wink. “And next time you'll be much better prepared to please someone."

He pushes on Sam's slender shoulder until Sam gives under the weight and sinks to his knees.

Two months later the Winchesters finally move on again. Cas is sad to see them go after all of his wonderful exploits with Sam, but he’s sure he’ll bounce back quickly enough. Inexplicably, he finds himself at the crossroads at the edge of town as the family head toward the highway. Sam’s sharp hazel eyes whip toward him standing on the side of the road. Cas smiles, and gives a small wave.

The kid twists round in the back street to watch him as the car drives out of view.

Once the black glint is a speck in the distance and he’s ready to turn and walk back home, an almighty ringing pierces his eardrums. He falls to one knee trying to shield his head and his hands come away from his ears bloody. His sight tunnels to white, and then nothing.

Castiel.

Brother.

It is time to come home.

The next thing he knows he’s in a strange white room, naked, before several people he doesn’t recognise. He’s strapped into a chair, and his memories feel fuzzy, and he can’t think. He should be panicked, desperate, confused, but it all feels… familiar. Being hovered over gives him a sense of unease but slowly his mind is clearing and he knows this is meant to happen.

“Castiel, are you back with us?”

He turns his head to the side, and takes in the soothing, soft glowing light. It’s heavenly. Heaven. He’s in heaven.

“I appear to be… returning, yes.”

“Good,” the woman says, “Your mission was a success, the intended result has been achieved.”

“My… mission. Yes. My mission.”

The woman—Naomi he recalls—smiles tightly. “Indeed. The youngest Winchester has been primed for his future as Lucifer’s vessel.”

Winchester? Right, of course. Sam. The boy he—

The boy he was—

He can’t even think it. It’s abhorrent. The things he did. The things he forced on that boy. He can’t comprehend it, how could he do that? Wanting to retch is a human reaction, but not long ago he thought he was human and it’s instinctive, part of him now.

“What did you do to me Naomi?” He spits, terrified of the answer.

“I put you in a revered position, you have advanced Heaven’s plan.”

“How can this be heaven’s plan?” He tugs, uselessly, at the bindings and the angel beside Naomi tuts in disapproval and walks behind him to secure his head too.

“Sam Winchester needed to be defiled before he turned sixteen. He needed to be sullied, so that he can become Lucifer’s vessel, blemished and tarnished, the way he is required to be. No pure and perfect human could house such a fallen angel.”

“How can Heaven want to work with Lucifer? Hurting a young human like that goes against everything we stand for! How can we condone this?!”

“The apocalypse needs to happen, Castiel, and it cannot come to fruition unless Lucifer can walk the Earth. You know this, you will accept this.”

“Why are you telling me this? You know I won’t approve!” He rattles the restraints violently, tearing the skin of his vessels wrists. Being trapped and being used the way he has been makes him feel ill.

“Because in a few moments, you won’t remember.”

He inhales, grits his teeth until he fears they may crack. They can’t erase what he did, they can’t take it away, if they do then he can’t make it right. There’s nothing that can undo what he did, he knows, but if he remembers he could at least try.

“But I hurt that boy, I manipulated him! What I did was reprehensible. How can that possibly be for the good of humanity?”

Naomi only shrugs. “Sometimes a sacrifice is needed. Hard decisions must be made.”

“I wouldn’t do this, I wouldn’t. What… what personality did you programme me with?”

“The very worst that humanity has to offer. And so you can see, Castiel, why we need Heaven’s plan to come to fruition— why it was so important that this mission succeeded. No human is without sin, they are not worth saving. A little pain is worth it for the good of the larger picture, for the good of creation.”

“This is sick, wrong, you, you monsters.”

“You are still in the throes of the cesspit of human emotion. Soon you will be back to your old self. Fear not, you have been a good soldier, and you will be rewarded for your trouble.”

“Don’t reprogram me, please, this is wrong. You can’t take it from me, I have to—”

“Why would you possibly want to remember? You have only done what was asked of you, only what your assigned role was made for. You need not fear retribution. Sleep well, Castiel and when you wake it will be like none of this ever happened. A bad dream, perhaps, nothing more.”

He wonders if this is how Sam felt; violated and dirty, betrayed, lost. He thrashes, screaming, and Naomi forces a gag between his teeth. He bites down on it and glares at her. He will never forgive this, if he remembers even a hint of what he was forced to do and become, he won’t let it go. She pats his arm and turns to leave.

“When he’s done, have him return Jimmy Novak’s vessel and remove all memory of his involvement. He can use the same vessel again the next time he needs one.”

“Should we remove him from the Winchester’s assignment detail?”

Naomi turns at the door with a cold smile. “No, I think not. It will be good for the boy to see him again when the time comes, it will remind Sam of his own shortcomings, and that will serve us well.”

Cas screams. He screams as she leaves, and as they drill into his head. He screams not only for himself, but for Sam, the boy he helped to ruin so that Heaven can have its war. He screams until he has no breath left, until he doesn’t remember why he’s in such anguish.

He fights until there’s nothing left to fight, only the blank, ringing cadence of angel radio, and his place in the ranks of heaven. He slips into black unconsciousness, with grief and mourning trapped in his head. Unsure why, now, but certain of two things; he will never trust Heaven again, and he owes Sam Winchester more than he could ever repay.