Hey guys!
Oh goodness, I am so sorry for taking so long on Mix & Match! I'm writing the next chapter right now though, so it should be out soon!
This is a bit of a thing that came to me while waiting for a flight in an airport (...FOR 19 HOURS), and I just decided to type it up and go for it. Consider it as an offering of peace to apologize for my lack of updates!
I'm still adapting to my new life as an exchange student and it's very, VERY tiring but super awesome, so yeah... I'm still trying to figure out how to make this work!
Also, I don't know if I should continue this or leave it like this. Share your thoughts!
Love you dears!
Castiel was what he would have called an average freshman. College had barely started a couple of days before, he had moved into his first dorm ever, he had discovered the joys of independence and new friendships and somewhat interesting classes and- and parties.
This was his very first party, actually. He had been very excited about it, and even though he felt a little awkward still, he took a deep breath, standing in front of the fraternity house where the whole thing was held. He had spent quite a long time getting ready, picking his clothes and making sure he would not look inappropriate, though not quite daring ask his roommate for advice, and in the end, he had settled on a regular black, fitting t-shirt and a pair of maybe slightly, slightly tight jeans. -As in, he could feel the thick material shift on the back of his thighs with every single step he took. Slightly tight.
Swallowing down his anxiety, he finally set his hand on the doorknob -because really, if anyone, anyone had been to open the door right this moment he would have looked nothing but ridiculous, standing there-, and with one strong pull, he opened the door, then stepped in before letting it shut behind him.
Oh God. Well it was wonderful.
The house was packed with people and it felt hot and it smelt like sweat and alcohol and fruit juice and girls and what was there to hate in that?
Smiling shyly at the people already standing in there, he returned the few waves he received from people he recognized as classmates he had not had the chance to talk to yet, and before he could really think anything of it, a glass was shoved into his hand, then a second one, a third and he wasn't really counting, there was this loud noise and this heavy, warm cloud pressing down inside his head and he liked it and if it took more glasses to keep savoring it then so be it.
Castiel really was not much of a drinker, Castiel really had never had much to drink before in his life, and to be quite honest, he loved it. He loved the feeling that came with it. He wasn't floating. He was flying while staying anchored to his very own body, he was swaying and dancing and pushing his way through the bodies, through the crowd, enjoying the closeness and the warmth and it was just delightful, he was just delighted.
Delighted and restless. Oh, finding someone had not been part of the plan. Well of course, he had wanted to, and if he was to be quite honest, he was feeling a little bit lonely, and he had fantasized about it an awful lot, but he had not been thinking of... of actually finding someone.
Not until he stood there, mouth agape in that sea of strangers, and he spotted him and his whole existence was over as he stood there before what truly was the miracle of life, or so he believed. He was tipsy, it did not matter anymore what he believed. This guy was a few steps ahead of him and he was beautiful and everything about him was really, really what Castiel had been wanting in its entirety, without ever knowing it. His jaw was insane and strong, his shoulders were strong and his hair was short and looked perfect and soft and somehow manly and nice. His neck looked dry and smooth too and he really wanted to get close enough and to press his palm down against it to feel it, to enjoy the feeling and to be close to someone in that way, that one way he had never got to experience before.
Goodness, that boy, that man was so hot Castiel started wondering, genuinely, why the ground under his feet had not started melting already. He was looking around him like a feline would have, one of those gigantic cats, the devastatingly strong ones that just loved to play, and he was strong, strong and he was masculine too and quite possibly in need of a person to dominate, and Castiel felt very small. Then he felt very big, and he looked at him fixedly, his whole body tense and electric and buzzing, a sort of unearthly pressure going up and down around him and getting closer to him, and closer and closer until it pressed against him on all sides and the heat was just crazy and he was suffocating.
Then, the boy, the man, he did spot him, and that was without a doubt both the scariest and most pleasurable thing he had ever had happen to him. The man, oh God he needed a name, the man was standing in a dim corner, uncaring of the mass of people around him, and he just kept on staring at Castiel, unmoving. There was no describing that look. It ripped Castiel's clothes off of him and made him understand the whole notion of feeling naked, naked for real, wanting to be, and he got the clue, so he started stepping in that direction, slowly.
His heart had never been so loud in his head before, he had never felt the weight of his own feet as they took him across a room before, he had never felt so oblivious to the rest of the world and never blocked out the whole universe for just one, one person before.
Instantly, he was in his personal space, heavy lidded, panting a bit, and the boy was surprised, he could tell, but he only chuckled softly in response and adapted to his stance. His smile was beyond charming, because charming was just a word, he couldn't even think up a way to start explaining his eyes, and then he spoke and his voice came out and Castiel knew his eyes rolled back a little.
"I'm Dean. What's your name, sugar?"
Castiel deeply wanted to think that it was ridiculous, really, ridiculous for him to just speak like that and be so smooth, someone his age, really, really, but it just fit him so well he couldn't help letting himself getting enraptured even further. He thought he might stutter, but when he replied, it comes out as a low, wild slur instead.
"I'm Castiel." You're beautiful. I think I am in love with you. I have never met anyone like you before. He wanted to say those things but his mouth just hung open a little and Dean seemed to have noticed, because he was looking at it.
And Dean just reached out, his finger pressing into Castiel's bottom lip and when Castiel let out a whimper, he cursed himself, wanting to die a little. He took that thought back the very second he saw the look that little sound had put on Dean's face. He stopped breathing and just waited for Dean -Dean, oh he loved his name- to do something, like a desperate person.
He did not know if, party-wise, this was customary behavior or if this sort of fever that had gotten into them was something else entirely, but he found himself not really caring. He knew no one really was looking at them, he knew every single person in the room was too busy drinking, dancing eyes closed and making out, one of which he hoped to be doing soon as well.
The next second, his thoughts were cut short by a nearby couple and the mad moans they were letting out. The guy had his hands pressed on the girl's back, pulling her flush against him and he ground against her as he kissed her mouth like a starving man. Dean looked at him and Castiel swallowed. The feeling, that feeling- his thoughts had started stuttering and his whole being came to a stop, he stopped existing and he started burning instead. A hand came up to his hip and Dean pulled him closer, oh, he could feel his strength in that slight pull and the way their hips collided and Dean's heat and yes, yes indeed he was burning, burning, just all over.
The moans were echoing in his ears, intensifying and he looked up, up to Dean's eyes and he felt that one frightening pull, the one you felt at the end of certain dreams, when you fell back and down into a pit and you could just feel yourself falling, on and on and on and yeah, he did not know when his feet were going to touch the ground but he sure as hell was not ready for it. Now the two others were not merely grinding anymore. He swallowed again.
"Can I do that?" Dean whispered into his ear, which felt hot and moist and perfect and Castiel's temperature went up by a million.
"Do what?" He replied, before mentally slapping himself.
Dean's hand dipped lower, down and under the waistband of his jeans and he gasped and the second his lips encountered Dean's and his tongue and his crazy heat and his hands and everything, he sighed and sighed and let himself sink.
As Dean's hand moved, and things moved on and he got lost in what he was quite positive was the one experience of a lifetime, he stupidly thought that Dean was the demonstrating type.
Dean. He had a name now.