He was going to die. This was it. Death by priapism. Okay it had only been a ninety minute class, but 90 minutes of Dean Winchester radiating heat. Ninety minutes of Dean talking. Ninety minutes of Cas pointedly ignoring Meg's underhanded comments in favor of side-eyeing Dean as he rambled for the fifteenth time about Nolan's Batman, whatever that was. And fuck if Cas didn't make it back to his room immediately he was honest to God going to pass out.
Cas scurried from the room as soon as Jim waved them away, rocketing towards freedom. Of course until Meg grabbed his hoodie, tugging him back into the Hell that was Pop Culture 201.
"Listen you little demon, I need to go. I'm late. Plus I've got a shit ton of stuff to do for my actual classes. And the blog. And I need to feed myself some proper food for once because I'm pretty sure beer and cold pepperoni pizza every night this week is not healthy and…" He stopped with a gasp as Meg tugged him towards her petite frame. He apparently wasn't hiding his predicament as well as he'd hoped, because Meg cut him off with a long, deep kiss. He felt her fingers wandering into his front pocket, teasing the warm length he desperately wanted to relieve.
"Oh angel, tsk tsk. I didn't know pop culture was so arousing for you." Her smirk drove Cas to a dark place, and as it was he was tired of fighting. He wrapped his arms around Meg's waist, hoisting her up flush against his chest. Their eager lips met ravenously. Cas realized they hadn't fucked in almost two weeks, earning him a below-the-belt pulse of need. Quickly he located the nearest bathroom on the floor, kicking the door almost off its hinges. As soon as the lock clicked into place the room became just a little too warm, a little too small. Cas hadn't felt the desire flaring up in his stomach like this in ages; a long lean panther waking up from slumber, midnight black, and hungry for anything it could pounce on first. He had no preamble for this, just knew he needed to bury himself in a warm body until this need was sated.
Meg had already perched her half naked body on the sink counter. And thank Zeus she was already teasing herself, two fingers working their way along her lace panty line. Cas didn't have all day to finish this, nor was he sure how long he'd last if Meg needed solid foreplay. As it seemed, she needed very little help from Cas. He just stood there, aching cock struggling against the still-engaged zipper, watching the dark, glorious creature unfurl herself before him. She let out a mewl of pleasure as her fingers dipped between warm, swollen mounds of flesh. Her desire eradicated all other stimuli in the room; she was all Cas could hear, see, smell, feel, touch.
Vaguely Cas was aware that he had unzipped his pants and had begun stroking himself as he shamelessly raked his eyes over Meg's lustful motions. Suddenly her eyes snapped open, burning amber locking onto Cas' electric blue. He moved without mercy, pulling Meg off the counter, biting and sucking at her lips. He didn't need to tell her what to do next. She turned around to face the counter, bracing herself as she gazed wanton into their reflections. Cas didn't bother to remove his pants, simply moving the fabric out of the way as he eased himself out completely. He graciously reached a hand between Meg's legs to assess how he should proceed. The wet, slick feel on his fingers told him all he needed to know as Meg supplied him with a groan of satisfaction. Content with her arousal, Cas hastily dragged the lace down her thighs. His hand curled around her hip as he steadily guided himself inside her. The fire burning inside him raged against his ribs, beat at his throat, assaulted his eyes until it was blinding. It consumed him as he pulled back, then forced himself back into Meg. The repetitive motion combined with white-hot lust buzzed around Cas' brain until Meg's body responded tightly, contracting around him as her orgasm rolled through her. He opened his eyes to meet Meg's reflection, except all he saw were Dean's green eyes, Dean's slicked lips, Dean's sex-tousled hair. All it took was imagining that kid beside him ten minutes ago for Cas to topple over the edge of his own orgasm.
With no real finesse, Cas extracted himself from the tangle of arms and legs. The sound of tearing paper towel broke the humid, sex-drenched bubble surrounding them. Cas swiped the paper over himself quickly, banishing the evidence of his imagination to the deep corner of his mind. Meg hastily tugged her clothes back on, eyeing Cas nervously. He realized he had been brusque this time, something he had never done before. With all the awkwardness of a high school make out session, he shuffled meekly over to her.
"That was, uh, wow. Heh. Are you-you okay?" He loved Meg, even if it wasn't the kind of love that leads to buying a house and a golden retriever and having little kids dressed up as unicorns for Halloween. He knew Meg would sell her soul for him to want that. He just didn't.
"Yeah, wow is right. I forgot you knew how to fuck like that, angel. Maybe this pop culture class will be fun." She winked, attempting to mask the questions that were hesitating just behind her words. He met her halfway as she stretched to kiss him, planting a chaste kiss to her worried lips. He didn't have the heart to tell her his lips were tattered in an effort to keep Dean's name from slipping through them.
She slipped her hand onto his chest, patting him once as she turned to go. "See yeah later, Cas."
"Yeah. See ya Meg." His brow furrowed as he heard his own voice, wrecked, weak. He carded a hand through his mussed hair, narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side as he glanced into the mirror.
Well what the fuck you gonna do now, Novak?
x x x
He'd fucked Meg into a fucking bathroom sink. All the while thinking about that goddamn kid. What the fuck was that about? And why were grocery stores so adamant about having lights that clicked and buzzed overhead? God. All he wanted was some EZ Mac and more beer. No, scratch that. This required gin. Maybe some sour mix, because Tom Collins were classier to drink alone than straight gin, right?
Strolling to the liquor isle with an arm full of EZ Mac was the quintessential college student look. Cas had it down to a science. However when his phone bleeped loudly, a few packages tumbled to the floor.
Today was seriously not his day.
He plucked the phone from his jeans. i-am-batman asked: how do i know if someone in my class is gay? That's all the email read. At least that was an easy answer he could put off until his hunger had abated.
He successfully snagged a bottle of gin and a small bottle of sour mix, and wandered his way up to the register. He declined the obligatory small talk from the cashier, opting for a terse smile as he swiped his card and ducked out into the chilly September night.
Needless to say, drinking Tom Collins before the EZ Mac was a terrible idea.
Cas ended up answering every single inbox message he had on the advice blog. Some he had managed to compose properly. Others looked like they had been written by a horny, nerdy teen girl with a bad crush on the quarterback. He even answered the one about the gay classmate.
Clarence replied: DUDE, justtt askkkk. Be chill ask super casually about like dating and their life and if they wanna fuck. No. Wait. Not the fucking part. Just, uh, just be cool. I know if some hottie asked me out even if they didn't know 100% I was a huge flaming gay, I'd be impressed with their balls. HAHAHAHA no I mean with their courage! so yeah just don't be weird ;)
After that his dorm room became a smudge of colors that ended in a loud thud as he fell face down on the carpet. His drunken dreams involved long, slow kisses trailing along that muscled, freckled body of some faceless man who moaned his name in the richest baritone Cas had ever heard.
