RockStarPeach

So I'm pretty sure there are a maximum of three Dean/Cas fans left on LJ. None of whom happens to be on my flist. I don't really know why I'm posting this here, other than the fact that I don't do the tumblr and this is basically my only place to post.

Not that anybody is going to read it, but I suppose it's a record for future sociologists, who might study the rise and fall of certain ships on certain platforms :)

Title: All A Boy Could Give
Pairing: Dean/Cas (Sexy/OMC)
Rating: Adult
Summary: College AU. Dean and Cas meet on a Dr. Sexy kink meme. Except they already know each other. Probably half this fic is Dr Sexy fanfic, so...
Word count: 3600
A/N: Written for an spn_masquerade prompt and at least half the words here are different. I was in a rush to beat the clock over there so hopefully this is a little better.


It's his guilty pleasure.

Not that watching Dr. Sexy, MD isn't embarrassing enough on its own, but Castiel's secret is bigger than that, bigger than the fact that he's nineteen years old and still a virgin, bigger than the epic, cliched crush his has on his college roommate.

Castiel's secret is this: He's kind of hooked on the amateur internet porn that some people write about his beloved characters. Can't get enough of the images of lean, muscular arms wrapped up with tight, shapely legs.

Castiel checks his email every morning and every night, he logs into facebook four times a day and he spends a ridiculous amount of his online time researching the scientific plausibility of popular bible stories.

All that time though, doesn't even come close to adding up to what he spends each day on his Dr. Sexy fan sites.

He's not much of a writer, can't draw a straight line with a ruler – probably wouldn't have the courage to post any of his own work anyway, even if he did have any talent – but he reads. He reads and he admires and he watches the DVDs with his little sister when he's home or the summer, listens to her pre-teen sighs of delight when Dr. Sexy and Dr. Piccolo hook up in the supply closet, but Castiel will take to the grave his steadfast belief that when the credits roll and the screen goes black, it's not a fresh-faced, impressionable young doctor of the female persuasion that Elroy Sexy takes to his bed.

It's chief of obstetrics, very rigid, very disciplined, very handsome, very male Dr. Matthias Ludlow.

Sexy wears those cowboy boots just a little too well, you know?

Dr. Ludlow is older, taller, he's calm and quietly confident. He's good with his patients, respects all others and demands respect in turn, he's gentle and soft-spoken to Sexy's brash arrogance. He's greying, slightly and his shoes are regulation and he's thin, not too thin, but not stocky, not muscular, like Sexy.

Dr. Sexy's a general surgeon, but they work together, sometimes and when they do it's fucking electric. Seriously. The looks they give each other, the way Ludlow chastises Sexy when the younger doctor steps out of line, the way Ludlow covers for him, when he steps too far.

They way Ludlow steps just a little too far into Sexy's space, the way Sexy steps right back, smirking and teasing and practically daring Ludlow to take a swing. Sexy is more physical, more gritty where Ludlow has a sort of ethereal beauty and when they challenge each other, stand only inches apart in the dead quiet of an empty waiting room, Castiel always feel his breath catch and his pants get a little tight.

They're clearly screwing each other.

Or, Ludlow is screwing Sexy. Ludlow tops. Obviously.

***

There's a new community in the fandom.

It's a dream come true for Castiel, because he has an account, one that he never uses, not even to comment, and this time he doesn't have to. This one is anonymous. People can post prompts, requests for art or stories that suit their tastes and other people can fill those prompts, hopefully make someone happy.

Like a fandom “Have a penny, leave a penny.” It's kind of beautiful.

And now, because Castiel doesn't have to sign his name (not even his fake, internet name) he's included, he can participate without fear, irrational as it may be, of someone finding out. Up until this point he's never left a comment, felt both guilty and excluded (though through his own doing) but now it's different. Now he can interact, communicate with his fellow fans, ask for something just for him, finally let all the authors and artists out there know how much he appreciates what they do.

The community is already a few days old and he's kind of overwhelmed when he looks through page after page, prompt after prompt. Some of them pique his interest (Sexy and Ludlow go on their honeymoon, formal wear, clothed!sex). Some of them make him want to run screaming (Sexy/Ludlow D/s, multiple partners, non-con – X keeps Y chained to the bed, teases him but refuses to fuck him, instead invites his friends (characters up to author) over to fuck Y instead). In any case, he feels like his own requests won't send anyone for scrambling for other, tamer fandoms, so he shakes off all his inhibitions and gets to typing.

Sexy/Ludlow: Sexy takes a risk during surgery and Ludlow visits him after hours to talk to him about it. They confront their feelings. Sex ensues.

That's okay, right? It is and he hits 'post' before he can talk himself out of it.

He decides it's late and his roommate will be home from the bar soon, maybe not alone, so he shuts off his computer and goes to bed.

Hopefully he can sleep through any noises Dean and his companion might make. At least tune them out, not half-listen as part of his twisted Sexy/Ludlow fantasy melds with his own fantasy of himelf and Dean.

He's hid his crush so far, he's pretty sure and he'd like to keep it that way.

***

Castiel checks the community the next night, before bed.

He looks at his inbox, blinks and looks again. His prompt has been filled.

Shit.

His heart beats rapidly as he slides his mouse over the link and his breath catches when he clicks it.

He looks around the room, even though he knows Dean is out for the night and when it's confirmed he's alone, he starts to read.

Matt smiles, looks down at the pretty picture the other doctor makes, eyes covered by a black silk tie, tied in a loose knot at the back of his head. His hands are similarly bound, behind his back while he kneels, willingly with his knees spread.

He's gorgeous like this. He's gorgeous always, but like this it's... Matt can't really describe it. His forte is medicine, not language.

“Tell me again,” Matt says.

“I'm sorry,” Elroy tells him. His voice is wet, sucking, like he's been crying. But he hasn't. Not yet.

“Sorry for what?”

“For taking the risk,” he says.

“Are you sorry for taking the risk, or sorry that it didn't pay off?” Nobody died, of course. If they had, the two of them wouldn't be here, wouldn't be doing this. This is only okay when there's a lesson to be had, learned or taught. Not when mourning is due. A woman could have gotten the use of both her legs back. Instead, she also lost the use of her right pinky finger.

Castiel stifles a snicker into his hand at that. Whoever wrote this clearly has a sense of humour, because that's just about as ridiculous as anything that ever happens on the show.

Elroy takes a breath, another.

Matt watches, him, patiently. Always so patient.

“I'd do it again,” he finally says. “I would do the same thing, again. It's worth it. It's fucking worth it!”

He's indignant, defensive and righteous but Matt doesn't waver. “So, why are you sorry?”

“I'm sorry that you're disappointed.”

“You're never sorry for that,” Matt tells him, unflinching as he yanks on Elroy's overly long hair and watches him wince. “You live for that. Tell me why you're sorry. If you really are.”

Matt looks on, lets Elroy count his blessings that he's blindfolded, that Matt can't see him. This always works best when the other man can't look into his eyes. He's more honest that way.

“I fucked up. I'm sorry that... that I wasn't good enough. That I couldn't make her perfect.”

Matt doesn't smile.

This isn't the time for that.

“That's a good boy. Good, Ellie.” Matt pets him, his long hair, his bare neck. Rubs his thumb down the front of his throat. Comforting. He's proud of Elroy, knows what it took for him to admit to failure, to not being enough. It's complete bullshit of course, Ellie is a brilliant surgeon but nobody's perfect. He needs to learn that. He needs to lose his cocky attitude and learn some humility. Too bad it had to be like this.

“I'm sorry you're going to think I'm less of a doctor.”

Matt's hand clenches hard again, at that.

“Never happen,” he promises. “You make mistakes, just like the rest of us. You're human, you can't help that but you're still the best I've ever seen.”

“But I fucked up.”

“You did. And if you're really sorry, why don't you bend over and open yourself up, show me you're sorry like you mean it?

Castiel almost can't breathe. This is a little more hard core than he'd hoped for, but by all that is good and holy, he's.. he's loving it. He finishes the prompt. Not without getting hard when Sexy does, not without coming all over his fist and the inside of his boxers when Ludlow tells Sexy to do the same. Fuck.

He lets himself happily black out for about fourteen seconds while Sexy rides the pleasure of Ludlow's cock and then he shakes it off, makes sure Dean isn't back yet and then closes his laptop, cleans himself off and falls into a sated, blissful sleep.

***

He wakes up early.

Early.

Makes sure he's got enough time to hit his computer, shower and be long gone before Dean has to get up for his 8am calculus class.

Dean takes calculus. He also takes physics and history and comparative literature and Castiel is aware it's a little bit creepy that he knows Dean's schedule when they don't even really hand out all that much and when they do, it's at the bar where Dean drinks enough to drown a sailor and goes home with whichever girl can beat him at pool. He loses on purpose, to whoever looks best in a tube top. Or so he says, but Castiel knows he really makes his choice based on sense of humour and conversational compatibility. He's more than a little bit of a slut and Castiel wants to look down on him for it, but he can't.

Dean's so much more than just a dumb jock on a baseball scholarship. It's why Castiel is so attracted to him and also why he hates him, just a little.

Castiel gets himself a drink of water from his mini fridge, eats an apple while he leaves some feedback for the person that filled his prompt.

OP here, hot, loved it, he says and feels bad that he didn't get across the absolute brilliance that he feels the fill achieved.

Oh well. He thinks that's probably understandable, because up until last night he hadn't been aware that being tied up and made to say 'sorry' until getting fucked liked a blow-up doll was some kind of good thing.

He stands corrected, obviously. At least, in a fantastical world.

But he doesn't need to spend his time thinking on that. He's got more ideas. More fantasies that someone on the other end of cyberspace can pick up and spin into a tale to make him weak in the knees.

He can't wait.

Sexy spends one too many breaks in the closet with Piccolo. Ludlow lets him know who he really blongs to

***

He doesn't wake up the next morning until Dean is already heating up his oatmeal in their microwave and he's got class before Dean's Science and the Renaissance class and Dean is back from baseball practice when Cas gets home from his shift at the bagel shop.

He waits, he bites his nails and his fingers literally itch with the need to open up his laptop and see what's on the other side of the screen but with Dean there, with him smiling and offering Cas some of the pizza he ordered and asking if he wants to watch some Shark Week, Cas just can't. He doesn't want to give up the time with Dean and he doesn't want to risk Dean looking over his shoulder and finding out what a weirdo he is.
Eventually though, Dean goes to the bar with his friends, like he does almost every night and when Castiel finally gets some time to check on it, his prompt his filled.

“Did you fuck her?”

Elroy actually laughs. It's that funny.

“Do you think I fucked her?” he teases. “Do you think you're that bad a lay that I have to lure pretty little newbies into the closet between shifts?”

“I think you're enough of a slut that you'd screw anyone who asked, is what I think,” Matt tells him. He's full of fucking shit, Elroy can tell.

“Yeah, okay,” he admits, even though it's a lie. “Yeah, so I fucked her. So what?”

Matt's eyes blaze red and his jaw clenches, his fist grips El's collar in a way he never has before.

“Admit that you're a slut,” Matt demands.

“Admit you're a jealous bitch,” El counters, chin tilted up, jaw clenched. Matt knows better, he knows Elroy would never, not ever sleep with anyone else, let alone a subordinate. He wants a fight, he wants an excuse to get a little rough and Elroy is happy to give it to him.

Matt smiles then, sly and crooked and his eyes narrow slightly. Elroy tries to smile back but before he can he finds himself face down on Matt's desk, pants around his thighs and Matt's hard, flat palm smacking hard against his bare flesh.

“Shit!” Elroy yells. “The fuck, asshole?”

“Don't,” Matt warns, low and sharp. “You like it, we both know that you liked it so shut the fuck, be a good little bitch and you'll get fucked like we both know you want.”

Elroy whimpers, wants to speak up, to defend himself but there is no defence. Matt's right. Completely right.

Matt makes good use of him that night, his ass is burning from the inside out by the time they're done and when he falls asleep, Matt curled around him on the oversized sofa he keeps in his office, it's to Matt's fingers tickling over his ribs and Matt's whispers in his ear.

“So perfect for me.”

Elroy drifts off, knowing the reverse it true as well.

Castiel whimpers, presses his palm down on his insistent cock and he bites his lip as he takes himself out, jerks off all over his lap.

He blushes when he's finished, looks over at Dean's bed a little guiltily and wipes himself up. Dean's not here, Dean doesn't want to be here. He's too busy fucking half the campus and he's never shown even the slightest interest in Castiel, not even when Cas got drunk two weeks ago and pressed a sloppy kiss to Dean's neck, when Dean helped him into bed.

Castiel sighs and shakes his head, wipes his hands because he's not done on his computer, yet. There are still two more days left of glorious anonymous porn.

And Castiel has one last request in him before the comm closes down and he hides away again until next year.

Sexy thinks his feelings are one-sided. Ludlow shows him that's not the case. All kinks welcome.

***

There's a fill.

It takes until two nights later, but there's a fill.

Castiel's breath catches as he scrolls down, bites his lip and starts to read.

“Can I get you a beer?” Matt asks, smiling politely as Ellie takes an awkward seat on the living room couch.

“Sure,” Ellie says, trying to smile back but it's strained, forced and he shifts so uncomfortably that Matt decides to put him out of his misery.

“I asked you to dinner,” Matt says, closing the fridge door before he crosses the room, hands Ellie one bottle and keeps the other for himself.

“Better be burgers,” Ellie jokes and his voice almost doesn't shake.

Matt sits next to him, ducks his head and presses his knee to Ellie's. “What do you think I meant by that?”

Ellie coughs a little, shifts. “That you were cooking be burgers? With bacon?”

Matt actually does happen to be cooking Ellie burgers with bacon. He pays attention. But that's not what he means.

“What do you think my intentions were, beyond feeding you?”

Ellie flounders for a moment, takes a drink of his beer.

“Matt?” he asks. “I don't... You're acting all kinds of weird, man.”

“Answer the question, Ellie,” Matt says, voice devoid of all previous teasing. “What did you think... No, what did you hope would happen, here?”

Elroy doesn't even know what to answer. Doesn't know how to answer except with the truth.

“Do you... Do you want me? I mean.. do you want me like... like you know I want you? Is that what this is?”

Castiel doesn't realise he's spoken that last line aloud until he hears Dean's voice behind him, close, so close to his ear.

“That's exactly what this is.”

Castiel nearly jumps out of his skin, slams his laptop shut and pushes out of his chair and away from his desk.

“Dean,” he breathes. “What... what are you...?”

“Read anything good, lately?” Dean asks, smiling that smile, that same stupid cocky smile that Sexy does, when he's teasing someone.

“I...” he starts, but that's as far as he gets because Dean is stalking closer, putting a hand on Castiel's hip, pulling him just a little closer. Just like Ludlow did that one time, tilts Castiel's head to the side and bites down on his neck, just like Ludlow did to Sexy when they hooked after the Ellen fiasco.

He grabs tighter and spins Cas around, lifts him a little, twists and pulls. Pushes. Just like he imagines Ludlow did, does, every time he takes Sexy to bed.

Castiel whimpers, crumples under Dean's sure hands and falls to Dean's bed. He lets Dean settle between his legs, lets Dean kiss him, firmly and squarely on the lips before he finally snaps out of it.

He presses his hands to Dean's chest, blinks and squirms up the mattress so that he's sitting upright with Dean in front of him. Still between his legs.

“What's wrong?” Dean asks and instead of looking completely sure of himself, he looks a little nervous. It's... kind of amazing, to know that he can throw Dean Winchester off course, even a little bit. “Isn't this... I thought... Fuck. Shit, I'm sorry. I'll just...”

He gestures vaguely to the door to their room and he makes to get up but Castiel's hands on his shoulders holds him still.

“No, don't,” Castiel pleads. “Don't go. You weren't... I mean I... Wait. Wait, did you... Was that... What the fuck!” Suddenly, he's gone past nervous and unsure and landed squarely on angry. Angry because Dean seems to know things that any regular, boundary-respecting roommate wouldn't know.

“What? Cas, calm down.”

“You wrote that.” He says it, doesn't ask and when Dean blushes a little and looks down, Castiel knows it's the truth. “You wrote all of that. How did...?”

Dean snickers then, but has the decency to look down when he admits “IheartDean isn't the most secure password in the world, dude. And you should really learn how to wipe your browser history.”

“You invaded my privacy. Broke my trust...”

“Hold up a sec,” Dean says. He frowns and his hand clenches down tighter on Castiel's waist, shuffles a little closer between his legs. “We don't have any kind of 'trust'. We barely speak. But I think you're hot. I like you and I want to bang you. Seems you feel the same way, so I took matters into my own hands.”

“Do you... Do you even watch Dr. Sexy?” Castiel asks. He feels like a fool, because of course Dean doesn't. Dean is cool.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean admits, blushing slightly. “Have from season one. Honestly, I didn't know you were a fan, at first. I've been writing for a few years now and when I... Shit, when I hacked your computer and found out about your prompts? It was like... kismet. I won't do it again. If you tell me to stay off your computer, I swear I will. But...”

Dean takes a deep breath, leans closer. He presses his face to Castiel's, brushes his lips against Castiel's jaw and trails his tongue up to Castiel's ear lobe.

“But fuck, Cas, please let us at least have this? Please.”

Cas doesn't answer. Not because he doesn't want to but because Dean's mouth is latched to his own, swallowing down the 'yes, please yes' that bubbles out when Dean yanks down his pants and sets about guiding Castiel through the loss of his virginity in the best way possible.

“Fuck,” Dean sighs, when it's done. He eases himself free as slowly and gently as he can, rolls to the side and wraps his arms around Castiel, holds him tight like he's afraid Castiel might tell him it was all a mistake. Which is fucking hilarious. “That was...”

“It was wonderful, Dean,” Castiel tells him, when Dean trails off. And he means it. He's not sure what it meant or what it's going to mean going forward, but it was wonderful.

“Yeah,” Dean says, awkwardly, like he can sense Castiel's hesitation. “Okay, so should I go? Leave you some time alone to... I don't know, plot my death?”

Castiel laughs and holds onto Dean tighter.

“Not at all.” He's a little blindsided, a little hurt that he's been spied on, played like that but he can't argue with how it ended up. “And Dean, regarding my computer in the future?”

“Yeah?” Dean says immediately, breathy and contrite. “Anything, Cas. I swear I won't...”

“You can break into it any time you want.”

Right after he finishes reading Dean's latest fill, that is. After all, he's going to need something to read tomorrow, isn't he?

END