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Finals were a rough time and even more rough now that it really mattered.
Two-thirds of the way there, Cas kept reminding himself as he poured over more book text he still wasn’t absorbing, thoughts wandering elsewhere.
After these exams, he only needed his residency. However, if he didn’t pass the exams and didn’t get the medical degree he worked eight years for, he’d never see the halls of Massachusetts General unless he broke his arm --
Cas turned the page, eyes starting to glaze over. He really just wanted to go to bed. The stifling apartment air in the usually hot spring evening didn’t help. His eyes were starting to blink off rhythm with weariness.
“I think if you spend any more time with those books, you’ll have to legally marry them,” a voice hacked through the academic haze to Cas’s left. He turned and saw an attractive sight standing in the archway separating the kitchen from the living room.
A man stood there, arms resting against the jambs. He had as little clothing as possible without giving away the goods: a pair of boxer-briefs and a smile. It was an alluring and tempting scene.
“Well, if we do, you can be my bridesmaid,” Cas teased. He knew why Dean lurked. He always did when Cas hid away in his books and notes during exam time. Cas understood -- it’s frustrating living with someone who becomes a monk for weeks every few months.
Cas could see, even with poor lighting and distance, that Dean was in a mood. Their apartment, third floor, always got unbearably heated every time the thermometer inched above seventy outside. Usually only just uncomfortable, now the heat provided a glistening temptation across Dean’s body, reflecting in the soft glow from the lamp near the archway. It wasn’t just the heat though: it was a primal urge, locked away for two weeks and ready to bust the door down.
Cas saw Dean trying to steady his anticipation, body pulled taught with increasing tension.
Back while they both finished their undergraduate, they learned to lock everything down and spend as little time as possible around each other in order to accomplish their studying requirements. But now, it was lopsided. Dean had the job at the garage to keep him busy during the day the past two weeks, but Cas noticed like he always did around this time, the increasing level of repressed desire reaching critical mass.
Worse now, Cas imagined, because Dean knew this was the last time it’d need to happen.
“You’re impatient,” Cas said, a smile starting to form on his face.
“And you’re a nerd.”
“That’s fair.”
Dean shifted, the light and shadow playing off his body from a different angle, highlighting every high and low point on his body, including now the rigid curve tucked away inside his boxer briefs.
The man was boiling over.
“Come here,” Cas said, surprising himself with how soft his voice sounded, “you can sit on my lap until I’m done working.”
Cas didn’t take his eyes off of Dean’s as the man approached, his errant breathing more apparent the closer he got. A knowing smirk graced his face, knowing just as well as Cas that no more work would actually be done that night.
It was the feeble attempt to please the education Gods that really mattered, Cas resigned to himself.
Dean slid onto Cas, straddling him, legs on either side of the computer chair. It wasn’t wide, which Dean gave his thanks for when they bought it years ago -- doing that move with a dick as hard as diamond would be too painful.
Cas couldn’t help the small noise that fell out of his mouth as Dean settled against him. Two layers of cotton did little to dampen the impact and Cas could feel the tremendous body heat radiating off of Dean through his nightshirt. It was minimal physical contact by their usual standards, but after going two weeks without, it felt like Heaven.
For those weeks, Cas went to bed long after Dean fell asleep, and Dean was gone just before Cas woke up for class. Their evening and nighttime routines were disrupted, the only consolation being this exam cycle would be the last.
A small whine escaped Dean, no doubt feeling the same level of satisfaction.
“What?” Cas placed his hands on Dean’s lower back, fingertips teasing the elastic waistband, “does that feel good?”
Dean didn’t answer, instead of beginning to slowly shift his hips on Cas’s lap, instigating the contact they both wanted desperately.
“You’re so needy,” Cas pressed his mouth against the skin right under Dean’s ear, eliciting a sharp, shaky inhale.
“Do your homework,” Dean managed to choke out on the exhale, voice thick with the backed up desire he’d been swallowing for a fortnight.
It sometimes amazed Cas, even after seven years, how much of a difference Dean was with people in the general public, versus people who were his friends, versus Cas -- especially when the door was closed.
Mister ‘keep your distance’ to strangers became Mister ‘do whatever you want with me’ every time Cas got him alone. Even out in public, if Dean felt bold or had a good day, he’d signal he was ready for anything, be it in a train station or a department store.
And sometimes Cas took him up on that offer.
It was Dean with any and all walls down, and it was a massive turn on.
Cas, instead of reaching for his book, let his thumbs slip below the waistband, pull back a little, then let go with a small snap against Dean’s skin.
Dean tensed at the action, Cas feeling a small tremor race from head to toe. Emboldened, Cas dipped his hands down, sliding under the fabric entirely to palm the flesh underneath, encouraging Dean’s hips to get as close as they possibly could.
He wished he took his pajama bottoms off before this all started.
Cas could sense the growing frustration and impatience on Dean’s end, and wasn’t surprised when he felt a hand slide down, grabbing both of them with a strong grip trying to work them off despite the fabric barriers. It was a frustrating shadow of the real thing.
As Dean got to work, Cas’s hands dove lower, finding his intended target, already primed and ready, set, go.
“Are you kidding me?” Cas breathed as he moved the pad of his finger around, the area already slick and welcoming.
Dean stopped his task, using both hands to guide Cas’s’ face to his, mouths meeting in a desperate, frenzied movement that indicated Dean was nearing the breaking point already.
“It’s been two weeks,” he whispered, pulling away for a small breath of air. Begging, quiet -- Cas had enough.
“Up. Get up,” he ordered, reaching his own breaking point. Up until that exact moment, Cas didn’t realize just how hungry he’d been.
Dean obeyed and slid back off, wincing a little as he went.
Cas didn’t give Dean any time to get his bearings. Standing, he grabbed Dean’s waist, turning him around and pulling his hips out, just enough. Dean’s hands braced against the desk, one landing on the opened textbook.
Without a word, Cas lowered the briefs so they rested against Dean’s upper thighs, and repeated the same motion with his own pajama pants.
Deep breath in --
Fingers digging into Dean’s hips, Cas slid in, swift and determined, feeling himself almost white-out at the searing hot world he found himself in.
Sharp exhale.
Dean’s knees almost buckled, and Cas adjusted his grip and pulled him flush. A deep groan summoned itself from somewhere inside both of them. Dean’s breath grew deeper, less erratic.
Cas was torn between wanting it to last as long as possible, relishing in the good after weeks of drought, but…
They needed it.
He withdrew halfway before retreating back to safety, circling his hips slightly. Dean lowered himself onto his forearms, hanging his head as soft moans, whines, and indecipherable words already escaping a Cas withdrew once more, then back in several more times -- not slow, but not fast enough for either of them.
Cas soon quickened his pace with every back and forth motion, the sight of Dean unraveling intoxicating. They were approaching the cliff at light speed.
Dean suddenly pushed himself back up with a whine, supporting himself on his palms again, the hand on the book clenching around the page. Hearing the paper tear only increased the fire. It felt good, the sudden tightening as Dean straightened slightly. Cas’s own downward spiral had begun.
Cas moved his hand forward, ready to bring Dean along with him over the edge — but Dean was the one who pulled them into it first. A hard shudder ran through his body, pulling Cas in like a vice grip. He came without a single touch.
Little sparks of white danced before Cas’s eyes as he squeezed them closed, unable to take in the full sight in front of him. It was too much. He’ll take it in later in bed when they went for round two, three --
He leaned forward, letting go of Dean’s hips, one hand landing on the desk in front of them while Cas’s arm wound around Dean’s middle, pulling his body closer. Cas moved automatically now, brain switching over to autopilot as he rode ride off the cliff with a few more snaps of his hips.
Dean, already halfway to spent, allowed the manhandling, Cas’s pressed up against Dean’s back. Cas would feel the small tremors rocking through the body against him.
Casfelt himself fill with white noise, moving his hips in slow, circular motions as he came, and automatic gesture. He lowered his head without thinking and latched his mouth where Dean’s neck met his shoulder, teeth gently scraping against scorching skin. Another small noise of delight from Dean welcomed the action.
They both eventually stilled, breathing ragged but in rhythm, reveling in the prize they’d wanted for days.
“Are you done studying for the night?” Dean eventually asked after a minute, voice rough and exhausted as Cas decided to move his mouth up, over the back of Dean’s neck, and down the other side.
“Well,” Cas eventually surfaced a few moments after the question, glancing over Dean’s shoulder to the desk below them, “you tore my book, so I think -- yes I’m done.”
“I did more than tear it.”
Cas frowned and lifted his head more this time, and Dean shifted out of the way just enough to get a glance of what other damage the book endured. Evidence of just how pent up Dean was had left a trail on the wooden desk and on some of the pages in front of them.
“You’re lucky that’s not a rental,” Cas said, nipping at the skin under Dean’s ear again.
Before Dean could throw back a smart-ass comment, Cas gripped his hips and finally pulled out and away. Dean issued a small groan of protest before bending his legs a little, working out the tension.
Cas could still visibly see the slight shaking. They needed to go to a bed before they both collapsed.
“You do this again, I’m going to move to the library and study,” Cas threatened, reaching over and turning the desk lamp off, wincing. He sweated through his undershirt and sweatpants.
He turned and saw Dean smirking in the dim light from the remaining lamp in the room.
“What makes you think I won’t try this in the library too?”