So I totally found this little beauty in the abyss of my documents. It's from a year or two ago so the style is a bit different. But I thought I would post it here for SPN fans to enjoy! It's kind of just a random snippet so to set it up:
Dean is a jock who is in denial about having feelings for Cas, a pompus, flamoyant, theatre kid. The school's stage is attached to their classroom, so one day Dean catches Cas in costume as he's on his way to practice and the two have a rather heated exchange.
As always these characters do not belong to me! I hope you enjoy~
"Oh yeah?" Dean found himself more insulted by the lack of attraction the implication that he wasn't anything but, well, straight. Cas snorted as if Dean were the one wearing a Peter Pan costume, with the tights, and the short shorts, and the fake greenery and shit—looking way too damn good in a costume that ridiculous.
"You heard me Winchester," His voice was hushed and gruff. It was like he was trying to maintain some mundane sense of privacy. Dean supposed being shoved in a narrow space backstage will do that to you.
At some point Cas started groping for the lights, trying to worm his way back to the rest of the class. Dean wasn't having it. He pinned the other boy down by his hips. Cas huffed at him. "Please. You wouldn't know what to do with a man's junk even if he freely offered it to you on a silver platter."
The words burned like hot oil splashing against his skin. And suddenly Dean felt hot anger bubbling up in his stomach, and suddenly he didn't care. Didn't care that it was incredibly cramped, and it was started to get hot in this small space with Cas, didn't care how that costume made Cas look like a total fruit loop.
He just did it without thinking. Out of reflex maybe. But Dean just really wanted to prove his point. "How's this?"
Whatever smart ass remark Cas had been about to lay on him, died on the same breath that suddenly rushed passed his lips as Dean's hand was abruptly shoved beneath those sinfully tight green shorts and under those incredibly tight green tights. And fuck if the tiny moan that slipped out of Cas wasn't just the hottest thing—
He wasn't sure why, or when, or even how, but Dean found himself consumed in his actions. Jacking off another guy—especially Cas—shouldn't have felt so natural. He was just pulling and pulling and pushing with his hips, and giving with his mouth pressed against Cas' jaw. His other hand was occupied with a handful of ass, pressing Cas in toward him as he shifted his hips and kept pumping with his other hand. Dean was very good at multitasking, despite the resistance the costume gave him.
"Fuck, Dean—" At some point Cas' forceful pushes at Dean's shoulders turned to desperate gripping. Digging in with his fingernails and shuddering, and gasping, and whimpering Dean's name quietly. He turned his head away, to avoid looking, to forget who was doing this to him. But Dean wouldn't let him have that. He only jacked him harder with one hand, snaking his other up to grip that perfect jaw and turn it back. Had there been light, Cas was sure they would have locked eyes. Dean seemed to realize this and leaned in, lips mouthing against this tender spot by his ear.
Cas whined, Dean chuckled. "How is it Cas?" He grunted when Cas bucked against him involuntarily.
"Fuck. I'm—" Everything was building. The sweat, the need, the heat. Cas could feel himself getting close, he was very nearly there. He gave up all reservation and freely writhed and grinded against Dean like there was no tomorrow. And with one more needy, breathless moan of Dean's name he was undone.
The two lapsed into panting, Cas into Dean's neck, Dean into Cas' messy hair that suck out in awkward spikes. Perfect post sex hair. Well, sort of sex. "Fuck Cas, I think you're going to need a new pair of tights." And despite how fed up he was with Cas and his superior attitude, Dean found himself gingerly trying to piece Cas back together, slipping his hand up and out, carding his clean hand through that thick dark hair, smoothing it back down to some sort of former glory.
Cas could only heave air in and out of his lungs. He relaxed against Dean's body, resting his face in the crook of his shoulder before murmuring. "Come get me after. We'll talk."
Dean was going to say something smug. Really he was. But he found himself getting too distracted by the timid kiss Cas pressed to his lips before finally slipping out of Dean's grip, out of his space. By the time Dean's brain had caught up Cas was gone.
I think I had originally planned on making this a nice sized but short multi-chaptered story but. It got left alone and forgot about. Anyway if anyone wants me to try and figure out how to flesh the story out let me know!