Chapter Text
"You're gonna get that bike in no time."
Castriel shrugs as he tucks a crisp fifty dollar bill into his piggy bank. His father hadn't stopped praising his good work ethic ever since Castiel had taken his after school job.
"I wish one of your brothers were so industrious," his father says loudly, rolling his eyes as he glances down at their cramped living room. It's not like Gabe or Luc are gonna run out and start walking dogs any time soon, unless they find a Pomeranian who sells weed on the side and has a PS4.
"Thanks, Dad."
Castiel accepts his father's praise with a quiet nod, even though he knows in his heart that he doesn't really deserve it. Castiel couldn't care less about saving money, let alone taking pride in his hard work.
All Castiel cares about is getting closer to Mr. Winchester.
"Goodnight, son."
Castiel watches the clock for 15 minutes before he carefully clicks the flimsy lock on his door. Anna's blaring music and Gabe and Mike are abusing the Saints Row dubstep gun, so the soft snick of Castiel's lock goes unnoticed amidst the din of his house.
Castiel knows he's so, so lucky to have his own room. Anna and Hester had fumed for weeks when their Dad had given Castiel Inias' old room. Castiel is the youngest after all, but their Dad had explained to a furious Hester that sibling seniority didn't outrank breeding designation. Everyone knows omegas need their own private space.
It barely fits his bed and desk, both of which are crammed with books and papers, but his room is Castiel's sanctuary from the constant crowd of his family. People are always so charmed at the notion of six children, telling Castiel how lucky he is to have all his brothers and sisters, but these people don't have to share a bathroom with Gabriel.
Castiel glances at the door one last time before he drags his bookbag over and sinks down onto his narrow bed. His Dad always jokes that his bag weighs more than he does, which is due mostly to the laptop he gets to borrow from school. Castiel gets good grades, but he's not planning on getting any schoolwork done tonight.
Castiel shifts, spilling a few stray notebooks onto the floor as he tries to get comfortable on his bed. Like the rest of his house, Castiel's room is packed to the brim. Not an inch of space to waste was practically a family motto, with clutter and the detritus of six children everywhere the eye can see.
It's nothing like Mr. Winchester's apartment.
The new condos on the old Fuller lot had been a source of contention among Castiel's neighbors, with grumbles about squeezing out the old community and raising property taxes. Castiel hadn't given it a second thought, not until he'd seen Mr. Winchester.
It had been some kind of compromise with the developer. They'd promised to build a park for the community, with fancy playground equipment and an organic garden. The final product was a flimsy jungle gym and some picnic tables next to the residents-only dog run. As much as it was an insult to the families living in the shadow of Gordian Heights, it was still quieter than his house on any given afternoon and Castiel had found himself studying at a little table next to the dog park whenever the weather was nice.
He'd always liked dogs.
He'd met Zepp first, when the big black dog had bounded through the unlatched gate of the dog run and gone straight for Castiel and his ham sandwich. His owner had come running after him and Castiel's whole life had changed.
That's probably a little dramatic. Since he'd met Mr. Winchester and started walking Zepp after school, many things about Castiel's life are the same. He's still a horny 15-year-old whose heats come over him at awkward, irregular intervals. He's still stuck in his crowded, noisy house, lucky to get ten square feet and fifteen minutes to himself to desperately finger his leaking hole and imagine the biggest knot he could think of stretching hot inside him.
The only real difference is whose knot he dreams about.
Castiel opens his computer and slides his headphones into the jack. He keeps the volume just high enough to hear the sound even with his headphones in. Gabe would have a field day if he knew Castiel was fucking himself to Alpha Jackfest Vol 3.
This is one of his favorite movies. The bright, modern room is obviously a hotel but it reminds him of Mr. Winchester's clean, sparse apartment. The alpha even has freckles, although his eye color is wrong. It's close enough for Castiel as he rolls onto his side, reaching down into the nook between the wall and his bed until his fingers close over ridged, nubby rubber. He rests the toy by his leg as he hikes his pants down, kicking them off as the alpha on the screen teases the head of his cock out of the slit of his alpha boxers.
Castiel doesn't look away from the screen as he slides his omega briefs off. His hole is slick when his fingers find it, warm when they sink inside. He fucks back on his hand until he starts to feel needy, his hole swelling open as he watches the alpha lazily stroke himself. Mr. Winchester's cock is probably even bigger. Castiel knows it's wrong but he's peeked in Mr. Winchester's hamper, and his alpha boxers are the kind with the extra large pouch in the front. His knot must be the size of a softball.
Castiel whimpers softly at his own frustration, his hole fluttering around his fingers and his dick getting stiff against his rumpled sheets. The alpha has his cock all the way out now, the future swell of his knot hidden behind a clenched palm. Castiel draws his fingers out and feels around on the bed, patting blindly for the toy. He could just turn around and look for it but it still makes Castiel feel hot with shame when he actually looks at the thing.
Castiel fucks himself with one of Zepp's dog toys.
It's not like he could get one of the real sex-knots he'd seen in porn. He'd need a credit card to order something like that, not to mention sneaking the package past a gauntlet of nosy siblings. He's small for his age, even for an omega, and he knows he'll never make it through the door of one of the gaudy sex shops he's passed downtown. He just had to make do with what he could do.
That's probably a little untrue. There are plenty of cock-shaped things Castiel could get his hands on. As he slides the round, bumpy edge of Zepp's Large Breed Soft Chew Gum Buddy against the slick-smeared rim of his hole, Castiel bites his lip. It's not just any toy, not if he's honest. It's a toy from Mr. Winchester's house, with his perfect alpha scent and his huge, sweet dog and his AlphaSaxx XL Hold boxers.
Castiel gives into his first orgasm with his teeth clenched in his sheets and a chew toy buried in his ass.
His breath comes in ragged as he clenches around Zepp’s toy. Eyes half-lidded, he watches the alpha on his computer stroke himself faster, changing the angle of his hand so the viewer can see his heavy balls pressing fat against the taut fabric of his alpha boxers. God, he must have so much come.
Castiel shifts, bending one leg and angling his hips until his dick rubs perfect against the sheets. He reaches back as far as he can, taking advantage of his spread legs to start working the toy deeper. The porn star alpha’s got his balls out now, the elastic of his alpha boxers snug beneath them, presenting everything to Castiel’s greedy eyes and his hungry, leaking hole. Castiel bites his lip and ruts against the bed, willing himself not to grunt with pleasure at the friction.
Castiel likes this movie because the alpha doesn’t say a lot of words, but he makes the hottest fucking noises. Soft sighs and long, deep growls, wet swipes of his tongue over his lips and that slick snap of skin on skin as he strokes himself to swell. It’s so easy for Castiel to close his eyes and imagine Mr. Winchester making all these sounds.
The alpha lets out a long, deep grunt, and Castiel’s watched this one enough times to recognize it as leading to his favorite part. He speeds up a little, getting into a good rhythm of humping against the sheets and fucking back against the toy. He takes a little more of it each time, gritting his teeth with the effort.
Mr. Winchester takes really good care of Zepp. He’s always getting him new toys and blankets, and even that rain coat that Castiel knows Zepp absolutely hates. There hadn’t been any shortage of toys to choose from, and it’s not like Mr. Winchester would notice. Castiel really was going to bring it back soon, just after he figured out a way to get a real sex-knot.
He’s close now, each back thrust of his hips stretching his hole wider. Castiel can remember when this toy showed up. The soft nubs all over it had immediately caught his eye, but it was the shape that had driven him to slip it into his backpack while his stomach tied itself in guilty knots. It had to be a foot long, with tapered ends that gradually led to a fat, stylized tennis ball in the center.
It’s the closest thing to a knot Castiel’s ever felt.
“Fuck,” the alpha on his screen groans, tipping his head back. One hand strokes erratically over his shaft while the other cups below the base, where his knot is slowly swelling.
Castiel bears down, fucking himself with the toy and praying he’s not being too loud. A bead of his slick runs down his balls, tickling him. He’s so wet. He pulls the toy out completely, feeling the empty flex of his hole, the rush of slick that drips out after it, imagining Mr. Winchester watching him ass up in the air, begging for his knot. He squeezes his eyes closed, focusing on the wet grunts in his headphones, the sounds Mr. Winchester would make as his big palms spread Castiel open, the approving moan he’d let out at how wet and open Castiel is for him.
The alpha on screen lets out a rough growl and Castiel knows he can time it just right. He presses the toy back inside, taking the tip easily and sliding it down until the ball in the center is flush with his swollen hole. He presses, just hard enough to feel the push of it without taking it in.
He buries his face in his bed, body tensing with the effort of waiting for the right moment, the effort to keep quiet and not moan out Mr. Winchester’s name, Dean, that name that he’d rolled over his tongue in secret so many times. Knot me, Dean, please, please give it to me, please, Dean, I can take it, I can-
“Gonna fuckin’ knot,” the alpha groans, and Castiel pushes his fake knot past his rim, stretching and gasping in spite of his best efforts. It’s huge inside him but he won’t stop pushing, not with the bitten off curses and filthy grunts the alpha’s making, not until it’s all the way in and he can clench down, his body trying to milk out a load of come that Mr. Winchester, that Dean, should be spilling inside him right now.
“Dean,” Castiel whispers, just as his hips rut down into the bed and he comes, his little omega load soaking into his sheets. He doesn’t even care if his siblings can smell it, if they can hear him moan as he twitches and pants through it. He looks up, eyes bleary as he blinks them open and watches the rich gush of come that the alpha’s spilling all over his hand. Ropes of it drip down to the floor, pooling on the rich stained wood. Mr. Winchester has wood floors too.
He floats for a while, full and warm in his own little pool of come and slick, but it doesn’t last very long. It’s an empty kind of high.
Castiel takes a deep breath and tugs his headphones off. Getting the toy back out of him is a far less pleasant experience. His body isn’t exactly made for it to go the other way, but he manages with some effort and a good amount of wincing.
He knows how it’s supposed to happen, with the alpha’s knot slowly going back down, allowing his body to close back up naturally and keep as much come inside him as possible. He knows that some of it still slips out naturally, he’s seen it in enough porn at least.
Curious, Castiel eases off the bed and positions himself in front of the cheap full length mirror behind his door, one of his mother’s indulgences for her special omega. Castiel is hardly vain but he’s secretly grateful to her as he gets on his hands and knees, spreading his legs and looking behind himself.
His hole gapes open, wide enough that Castiel could easily sink three fingers into it. He pushes, watches himself flutter open and squeeze back as he relaxes. Would he look like this after getting fucked?
He’d seen Mr. Winchester in sweatpants once, when he’d been out jogging with Zepp. Mr. Winchester always says hi to Castiel, probably because he feels bad for him or something. Castiel had tried not to stare, but Mr. Winchester’s pants had stretched tight over his crotch when he crouched down next to him and poured out some water for Zepp. He’d smelled like sweat and alpha and Castiel could see the huge bulge of his cock and the outline of both of his balls. He’d never gotten a hard-on faster in his life.
Mr. Winchester would fill him up so good. Castiel cranes his neck, wondering if he’d even be able to see the pink gape of his hole after Mr. Winchester finished with him, or if it’d all be white and wet and plugged with his come.
Castiel stifles the whine in his throat. Mr. Winchester probably has a string of omegas, gorgeous ones with neat hair and fuller curves, not scrawny teenagers from the wrong side of town. Castiel can dream all he wants, but it’s never happening. He’ll never know what it’s like to be with someone like that.
He turns away, sick of looking at his empty body and his messy room. His cheeks flush hot as he sees the toy on his bed, glistening with slick and nestled in his ruined sheets. The closest he’ll ever get to Mr. Winchester is Zepp.
His brain skips ahead of him and Castiel flushes even deeper. He’s not that kind of omega.
~
Everyone knows about those kinds of omegas.
Castiel brushes his teeth the next morning, staring in the mirror. He’s not like that.
He’d heard the stories, half of them whispered at sleepovers and half of them thrown around as taunts. Omegas so horny and desperate for a knot they’d take anything, anything close. About the special dog trainers that sold “companion animals” for ugly, unmateable omegas, about the omega in Washington who’d died getting fucked by a horse, about the lonely, ignored house-husbands who got caught with the family Doberman.
Castiel spits in the sink and washes his face.
School is a blur, the sort of day he can coast through with no exams and absolutely no thought. Well, no thoughts about school. Castiel can’t seem to stop thinking about other things.
It’s easy to beg off of his last period class. Ms. Harvelle has a soft spot for him and accepts his vague excuse about a “stomach thing” with a knowing nod. Castiel isn’t above using his biology when he needs to.
The house is blessedly empty when he slips in. He has a whole two hours to kill before he needs to walk Zepp. He walks a little faster just thinking about Mr. Winchester’s dog.
He won’t really do it. Just a little research to satisfy his curiosity, to show him that it’s weird and totally not something he’d be into. He types “omega with dog” into an incognito Google box and bites his lip.
It takes a little searching but he manages to find some free clips, mostly from a site called o/beast. A lot of the videos are stuff he really doesn’t want to see, but there’s one clip that catches his interest. The dog looks a little like Zepp, but he’s not quite as big. It’s not a full movie, so it just starts in the middle, while the omega’s already mounted. The camera is positioned below them, like Castiel’s laying on the floor and looking up at the fat dog cock pistoning in and out of the omega’s hole. It’s so hot it shocks him, the rush of blood to his cock and the clench of his hole as he watches.
The dog is fucking the omega hard and fast, hips thrusting wildly. The sounds the omega makes are delirious, whining and moaning and making Castiel blush all over. It’s dirty and it’s so, so wrong. He shouldn’t even be watching this, shouldn’t feel his hole start to soak through the triple fabric of his omega briefs.
Castiel knows his way around a torrent, and before long he’s watched the entire movie a dozen times. It never shows the omega’s face, just his hole. The dog’s cock is long and fat, different at the tip than an alpha cock but fuck, it looks just as good slamming into the omega’s dripping hole. The second time Castiel watches the dog push his knot in, he has to put a hand on himself. The fourth time, he sinks Zepp’s toy inside himself and imagines it’s his fat, throbbing knot, like the one he’s watching. By the sixth time, Castiel comes all over his hand as he watches the dog pull out, the pop of his cock and the wet rush of come that flows after it.
He’s so fucked.
Lost in his haze of doggy porn Castiel barely notices the time until he’s almost late for Zepp’s walk. He cleans himself up as best he can, knowing he still stinks like slick. Maybe that’s not a bad thing.
Castiel wraps Zepp’s toy in a pillowcase and slips it into his bookbag before he leaves.
~
Zepp is eager for his walk and Castiel isn’t going to make him wait. It’s a nice day but Castiel feels hot all over as they head to the dog park. He smiles at the regulars, Ms. Tier with her shih-zhu and Danny with his lab mutt, making mindless conversation. He can’t keep his eyes off the heavy bounce of Zepp’s balls as he bounds around the park. Their usual hour feels like forever. Castiel’s skin itches, hot and cold flashes making him go all goosebumpy.
The cool, fresh air of Mr. Winchester’s apartment soothes him a little. He always keeps the air cool, an expense Castiel can’t imagine. It feels good against the flush spreading over him as he carefully removes Zepp’s leash. He fills his food and water bowls, making sure to keep it all on Zepp’s food mat. Mr. Winchester doesn’t like a mess.
Castiel heads to the bathroom while Zepp wolfs down his food. It’s not like Mr. Winchester ever told him to only use the half-bath off the kitchen, but Castiel still feels a little thrill as he pushes open the sliding door to the master bath. Mr. Winchester always told him to make himself at home, that he can stay and study as long as he likes, but Castiel knows that’s just out of sympathy.
Everything in the bathroom is pristine, gleaming in coordinated gray marble and slate. Everything in it smells like Mr. Winchester.
After relieving himself Castiel washes his hands, carefully wiping them dry on his shorts so he won’t get one of the soft towels wet. He looks in the mirror, leaning against the counter as he imagines Mr. Winchester, Dean, sidling up behind him, wrapping his big arms around Castiel’s chest, nuzzling at his neck. Maybe he’d take Castiel right here, just pick him up and balance him on the counter, God, maybe Dean could just pick him up and hold him there.
Castiel’s dick strains against his briefs.
He pauses as he exits the bathroom, only briefly before he gives in to the siren song of Mr. Winchester’s bedroom. His smell is so strong in here, soaking into the mattress and pillows, wrapping around Castiel like a warm hand. He’s had to stop himself from burying his face in Mr. Winchester’s bed so many times.
Passing the bed, he opens the door to Dean’s massive walk-in closet as quietly as he can, as if Dean will hear it in his office all the way across town. He’s careful not to touch anything as he makes his way to Dean’s hamper.
It’s fuller than usual today. Castiel rubs a hand over his dick, feeling himself thicken up as he bends over. A soft rush of slick leaks out of him as he throws caution to the wind and buries his face in Mr. Winchester’s dirty clothes, breathing with his mouth open and wishing he was tasting Dean’s cock instead.
There’s a pair of alpha boxers right on top. Castiel runs his fingers over the embroidery at the waistband, all the X’s of the logo, like he needs reminding that Mr. Winchester keeps his extra-large knot snug inside them all day.
He bunches them in his hand before his conscience can catch up with him.
Zepp is sprawled out on his dog bed when Castiel comes back out. His tail thumps the floor when he sees Castiel. Zepp is always happy when Castiel plays with him.
Castiel really isn’t sure if dogs can smell omega pheromones. It seems like an urban legend on the one hand, but on the other they do have a better sense of smell. It won’t hurt to see.
Castiel’s hand shakes a little as he takes the toy out of his bag. He unwraps it and places it on the floor next to Mr. Winchester’s alpha boxers. The floor is probably cleaner than half the dishes in Castiel’s house.
He’s still shaking as he hikes his shorts and omega briefs down. Zepp watches him, tail still wagging. Castiel goes to his hands and knees, picking Mr. Winchester’s alpha boxers back up and wadding them in his hand. His mouth and his hole go wet at the same time, drenching any of Castiel’s inhibitions in front of his audience.
Shoulders braced across the floor, he rests his face on Mr. Winchester’s alpha briefs and grabs the toy. Just smelling them makes him slick up, hole unfurling and ready as he presses the end of the toy inside himself. He’s still open from playing with himself earlier, and it’s a matter of minutes before he’s sunk it to the base of the “knot.”
It’s so easy to imagine here, to close his eyes and smell Mr. Winchester all around him. He parts his lips, letting himself mouth over the fabric. He can moan all he wants in here and it feels so good, letting himself go and make all the nasty noises he loves so much in porn. He works up to a good rhythm, grunting in time with each deep thrust of the toy. He shifts his weight, stopping mid-thrust as he looks over at Zepp.
Zepp’s head dips between his legs, long tongue snaking out to drag over the hot red of his dick. It’s almost fully out, lengthening before Castiel’s eyes as the dog licks at himself.
“Oh fuck.” Castiel indulges in a few more thrusts of his toy before he pulls it back, carefully placing it next to Dean’s alpha boxers. He crawls over to Zepp slowly, keeping his voice soothing.
“Hey, boy,” Castiel coos, reaching out slowly. God, he’s gonna touch a dog’s dick. He wants to touch a dog’s dick.
“Lemme help.”
It’s hot to the touch, slicker than Castiel expected. He tentatively closes a hand over it. Zepp pants and whines a little, but he doesn’t flinch or seem upset. It must feel good.
“Good boy.”
Castiel starts to stroke, gasping as Zepp surges up. His hips buck forward, some instinct kicking in. Castiel keeps jacking him, marveling at how big he gets with each stroke. His hips pump forward into Castiel’s hand as he starts to whine.
“You wanna…” Castiel gulps, licking his lips. His hole is dripping wet, throbbing in time with his dick.
“You wanna mount me?”
He turns around, presenting his slick hole to the dog, not sure what to expect.
“C’mon, Zepp, you can-“ Castiel gasps as he feels hot weight settle on his back. Zepp’s paws press into his sides as the blunt head of his cock nudges blindly at Castiel’s thighs.
“Oh, fuck.” Castiel spreads his thighs wider, lowering himself until he feels Zepp’s dick brush against his hole. Zepp must feel it too because he starts thrusting, missing his target but making a hell of a good try.
“Good, fuck, good boy.” Castiel reaches behind him, struggling to support their weight as he snakes his hand in between his legs and guides Zepp’s cock to his hole.
It’s just like the movies and it’s nothing like Castiel ever could have imagined.
Zepp fucks right into him, and thank God he’d opened himself up beforehand. His cock feels huge already, the fat length spearing in and out of him. It’s tight and hot and too much, and it has Castiel’s dick dripping on the floor in minutes.
His body was made for this.
His hole opens up under Zepp’s relentless pace, slick spilling out to ease the way. He can hear each filthy slap of Zepp’s dick sinking into him, fast and wet. Zepp’s breath pants hot across his back, his paws digging in hard. He’s holding Castiel in place.
Castiel doesn’t even recognize the noises he’s making, high and needy and desperate. Zepp’s cock swells and swells, stretching Castiel wider with each thrust. He’s never had anything this big inside him but it still doesn’t feel like enough.
“Fuck, yeah, do it,” Castiel tries to spread himself wider, shameless and knot-hungry, hanging off a dog’s dick and fuck, he loves it. Only one thing on earth could be better.
Castiel snatches Mr. Winchester’s alpha boxers back, stuffing them in his mouth as Zepp growls. He can feel the knot swelling, starting to catch with each frantic jut of Zepp’s hips.
“Knot me, knot me, fucking knot me,” Castiel mumbles, drooling onto Mr. Winchester’s alpha boxes and sucking. Maybe there’s some sweat in there, maybe, if Castiel’s really lucky, he’ll suck out a stray drop of his precome while Mr. Winchester’s dog ties him off.
It pushes him over the edge, his body gripping tight around Zepp’s knot as he comes. Zepp buries his cock deep, pushing hard and brutal until Castiel feels the knot pop inside him. It hurts, like how coming too much can hurt, the good kind that makes Castiel dizzy, makes him moan out Mr. Winchester’s name, moan out Dean as Dean’s dog pumps him full of come.
Castiel is going to hell and he’s doing it with dog jizz dripping out of him.
He barely feels Zepp shift off him, turning around so they’re back to back. It must look ridiculous, but all Castiel can feel is the hot press of the dog’s knot inside him. He can’t exactly relax but he still has Dean’s alpha boxers in his mouth and that’ll do just fine.
Castiel loses track of time but Zepp can’t have been in him for more than 20 minutes. It’s a mess when they do separate. Come streaks down Castiel’s thighs when he stands up, puddling next to the pool of his own come on the floor. Panic rises in his chest as he looks at the mess.
He hadn’t totally thought this through.
He glances at the clock and blanches. It’s almost six o’clock. He needs to clean up immediately.
He won’t have time to take the trash down the back elevator, and he can’t walk out of the lobby holding a bag. What if they think he’s stealing?
Sighing, Castiel grabs his omega briefs and tries to mop up the mess as best he can. They’re already so soaked with his own slick that they don’t get everything. Feeling the minutes press against him, Castiel grabs Dean’s alpha boxers and wipes up the rest of Zepp’s come. He can’t put them back in Dean’s hamper like this.
Blushing scarlet, he stuffs them into his backpack along with the toy. He pulls his shorts up, wincing. At least the sun is going down. Hopefully no one will see him soak through his shorts on the way home.
Zepp is sprawled back out on his dog bed, tongue flopping to the side. He looks like some bad stereotype of a post-coital alpha and Castiel smiles.
“Good Zepp, who’s a good boy.” Castiel scratches behind his ears, laughing at Zepp’s happy butt wag. He doesn’t seem terribly traumatized.
Castiel double checks Zepp’s water bowl before he slings his backpack over his shoulder. He’s halfway across the kitchen when three things happen: Zepp barks, a key turns in the lock, and Castiel’s stomach drops through the floor.
“Where’s my big guy?” Mr. Winchester calls, the sound of his hand slapping against his leg echoing down the hall. Zepp races past Castiel, his nails clicking on the floor. Castiel seems to be the only one whose feet are frozen in place.
“Alright, you big oaf.” Mr. Winchester comes into the kitchen, his hand still rubbing lovingly over Zepp’s head.
“Hey Cas.” He stops, eyebrows going up in surprise. Mr. Winchester always calls him Cas, even though no one else does.
“Mr. Winchester, I’m sorry, I, um, I took Zepp for a long walk and then, I, um-“
“Hey, no worries, Cas.” He puts his briefcase down on the counter before draping his jacket over a chair.
“I’m happy to see you.” Mr. Winchester is always polite like that.
“Did you have a good day with Zepp?”
Castiel blinks, his mind hearing “date” before he makes sense of it and he feels a fresh blush spread across his face.
“We, uh, yeah.” Castiel fidgets when he’s nervous, and he doesn’t miss the way Mr. Winchester looks at his wriggling hips.
“Long walk, and then, uh, I had homework. I’m sorry Mr. Winchester, I shouldn’t have stayed so late.” Castiel gulps.
“Cas, I’m always telling you to stay here and study. It’s nice knowing Zepp’s got such good company.”
Unbidden, Castiel’s hole clenches at the thought of Zepp’s company.
“And call me Dean, Mr. Winchester is my...” Mr. Winchester, Dean, trails off, his nostrils flaring slightly. Castiel wants to die. Right now.
“Sounds like my dad, you know?” Dean clears his throat and smiles, giving Castiel a look that burns right through him.
“So hey, Cas, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Oh, God. Castiel is going to be sick.
“Do you think you could stay a little later every day, you know, like you did tonight?” Dean runs a hand through his hair.
“I’ve got a big project coming up and I might be working some late nights. It’d make me feel so much better knowing Zepp isn’t all by himself.”
“I, um-“
“I’ll pay you extra.”
Castiel would do it for free.
“Ok, sure thing, Mr. Win … um, Dean.” Castiel smiles. Dean’s name sounds so good, a little too good as his traitorous hole clenches, pushing out a fresh trail of Zepp.
“Thank you, I should really get going,” Castiel says in a rush, making the mistake of looking up and meeting Dean’s eyes. They’re wide, his eyebrows rising up again as he takes a deep, measured breath. He licks his lips and Castiel is fairly certain this is what a heart attack feels like. This is it. Dean’s going to fire him, or call the police, or animal control or the animal sex police or whoever you call when you have a sick as fuck kid in your house who probably stinks like dog jizz and stolen underwear.
“Sure, Cas.” Dean smiles, broad, so friendly Castiel feels dizzy.
“You get home safe now. And you can start staying later tomorrow.” It’s not a question and Castiel just nods before he rushes past Dean.
He can feel the wet spot on his shorts the whole walk home.