
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1105833.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural, Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester
  Character:
      Castiel, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Hogwarts_AU, AU, Crossover, Harry_Potter_Crossover_-_Freeform, Hufflepuff
      Dean, gryffindor_cas, PWP, Blowjobs, First_Time, Bottom_Cas, Top_Dean
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-12-28 Words: 2481
****** Cold Tile ******
by The_Marauder_Named_Prongs
Summary
     Castiel has a ritual. After every Quidditch game, win or lose, he
     showers. He lathers and he scrubs and he waits. Because the second
     part of Castiel’s ritual is Dean.
Notes
     Anonymous prompt on my_tumblr: Hogwarts AU - Cas is a 6th year, and
     the Gryffindor Quidditch team's Seeker. Dean is a 5th year
     Hufflepuff, who likes to meet up with his boyfriend in the locker
     rooms after the game. Awkward teenage fumbling ensues.
Castiel has a ritual. After every Quidditch game, win or lose, he showers. As
his teammates disappear from the locker room in celebration of a win or
desolation of a loss, Castiel showers. He scrubs away the grime and sweat that
signifies the hard work he did on the pitch. He lathers and he scrubs and he
waits.
Because the second part of Castiel’s ritual is Dean. Having learned of
Castiel’s customary post-game shower, Dean began sneaking into the Gryffindor
locker room after the team had cleared out to join Castiel in the showers.
Castiel smiles as he rubs shampoo into the dark hair on his scalp, wondering
when Dean will arrive – if Dean will arrive. This is the first game Gryffindor
has played against Dean’s house since he and Castiel started dating, fucking
around, whatever the hell it is they started doing last Spring. And Hufflepuff
lost. Badly.
Dean has always been competitive, always hated the Gryffindor Quidditch team on
principle and loyalty to his Hufflepuff brethren. Not once in his five years at
Hogwarts has Hufflepuff been able to wrest the Quidditch Cup from the slimy
Slytherins or their Gryffindor nemeses. And Dean hates that. Absolutely hates
it.
Today’s match has not changed the tides. Gryffindor crushed Hufflepuff in a
blowout that only lasted thirty-five minutes before Castiel caught the Snitch
for an extra hundred and fifty points, ending the match at 320 to 30 – one of
the worst losses of Hufflepuff’s recent history.
But Dean does show up in the locker room, later than usual but with his
customary smirk in place as he slips into the shower room. The showers are
largely open, only short walls dividing the separate showerheads. Castiel is in
one of the stalls farthest from the entrance. Dean can see the steam rising in
great plumes as he rests against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his
chest.
He quickly and quietly divests himself of his clothing, starting with his shoes
and working his way up to his shirt and striped yellow tie. The only item he
holds onto is his Quidditch team flag.
He pads over to Castiel’s stall, leaning against the low dividing wall. Castiel
is faced away from Dean, his head submerged under the stream of water as he
scratches his fingers through his hair, rinsing the suds away. The spray
bounces off of his back, catching and beading on dean’s naked torso. Dean
indulges in watching him for several seconds before clearing his throat to
announce his presence.
Castiel turns with a smile as he slicks the strands out of his face, knowing
exactly who is behind him. His gaze zeros in on Dean’s nudity – unexpected, but
definitely welcome – then onto the flag he is rotating lazily between his thumb
and forefinger. It’s a Gryffindor flag.
Castiel raises his eyes to meet Dean’s. Dean steps forward, grasping Castiel’s
wet forearm and pulling him out of the spray and into a deep kiss. Cas smiles
against Dean’s lips as he pulls back sharply, forcing Dean into the stream of
water. Dean releases Castiel’s arm to wrap his fingers around the back of Cas’
neck, pulling his head to a better angle as he licks his way past Cas’ lips.
Cas lets him, skimming his own fingers down Dean’s arms, plucking the small
flag right out of Dean’s hand. Dean steps back, surprised as Castiel smooths
the flag down Dean’s chest, twirling it and letting it fall into the water
pooling around their toes just before it reaches Dean’s half-hard cock.
 “You’ve got the wrong team’s flag,” he says huskily, returning his gaze to
Dean’s face.
Dean chuckles. “I’ve got exactly the flag I mean to have,” he says, that coy
smirk dancing across his lips once more.
Castiel wonders briefly if Dean sat with the Hufflepuffs, shamelessly waving
that Gryffindor flag as he watched Castiel aid his house in crushing Dean’s.
The thought forces a warm surge of affection through Castiel’s body that brings
his hand right to Dean’s cock. He strokes him gently as he rests his temple
against Dean’s shoulder, grinning at the surprised shudder that runs through
Dean at his touch.
“You’ll get yourself into trouble, Dean,” Castiel whispers gruffly into Dean’s
ear. “Rooting for the opposition so blatantly.” Dean’s only response is a
broken whimper as Castiel pushes his back against the cold tile. “Do they know
you’re cheering for me?” Castiel asks as he sucks kisses and bruises into the
soft, damp skin of Dean’s neck. “Do they know you’re cheering for the boy
you’re fucking?”
Dean moans loudly at Castiel’s words, lips, hands, his head falling back to
give Castiel greater access to the flesh of his neck. “God, yes,” he says, and
Castiel doesn’t know if it’s in response to his inquiries or his thumb coming
up over the head of his cock on a particularly strong upswing of his hand to
rub at the slit.
Dean’s eyes pop open as he feels a familiar tightening in his abdomen. Too
soon, he thinks as he threads his fingers into Castiel’s hair, pulling Cas’
lips back to his, successfully shutting his sinful mouth and breaking his
concentration on Dean’s dick. The tension eases as he knocks Cas’ hand away
from his cock, using Castiel’s temporary surprise to reverse their positions.
He delves his tongue deep into Cas’ mouth as he pushes him against the wall,
curling his free hand around Cas’ cock. Castiel groans a deep, guttural sound
into Dean’s open mouth before Dean drops to his knees.
The tile is uncomfortable, cold and wet, and the stream of water from the
showerhead is now catching him on the head, dripping into his eyes, as he holds
Castiel’s wet cock steady in his hand. He lowers his mouth onto it, suckling
lightly at the head. Castiel’s loud groan shoots a hot spike of arousal through
Dean’s abdomen as his lips drag down over the length of Cas’ cock. He is
pleasantly surprised by the ease and fluidity the water provides him as it
drips down his face and over Cas’ cock, slicking it for Dean’s lips. The head
bumps against the back of Dean’s throat, and Dean has to breathe deeply to stop
his gag reflex from forcing him back and off of Cas.
Instead, Dean responds to the noises Cas makes above him, loving the deep moans
he receives when he swirls his tongue around the head and the fingers in his
hair when he hollows his cheeks and sucks hard. He brings a hand between Cas’
legs, running his fingers down the cleft to play at his hole the way he knows
Cas goes mad for. He eases one wet finger inside of Castiel as he pulls back
slightly to tongue at the slit of his cock. Castiel’s legs tremble with the
force of holding himself up as he comes into Dean’s mouth unexpectedly. His
fingers tighten in Dean’s hair, and his voice cracks on Dean’s name, his
breathing labored as he pumps shallowly into Dean’s mouth as he comes down from
his orgasm.
Dean does his best to swallow, knowing how much Castiel enjoys that (and
enjoying it quite a bit himself, if he’s being honest), but the suddenness of
it left him unprepared, and come drips down his chin and onto the tiles at his
knees as Cas pulls out of his mouth.
Cas sinks to the cold floor bonelessly, having only enough energy to pull
Dean’s arm, urging Dean over to him. Dean obeys, sliding onto his backside next
to Castiel, knees bent and resting his head on Cas’ shoulder. Cas places a hand
in the hairs at the base of Dean’s neck, his cheek resting against his damp
scalp as he whispers tired praise into Dean’s hair.
They remain that way for several minutes, happily enjoying the mist of the
shower’s charmed-warm spray that coats their heated skin. Dean wonders if
Castiel has fallen asleep, unconcerned with Dean’s unrelenting erection. He
finds, frighteningly, that he wouldn’t mind it if Cas had. He wouldn’t mind
laying here with Cas until he felt ready to move again. He wouldn’t even mind
returning to the castle and detouring into an empty toilet to take care of it
himself.
But he doesn’t have to worry about the implications of any of that for very
long. Castiel groggily sits up not long after, smiling down at Dean as he
reaches up to turn off the shower tap. He gives Dean’s cock a few gentle tugs
before lying back across the floor tiles, no longer at risk of getting water in
his eyes.
He frames Dean’s waist with his ankles, opening himself up to Dean. “Would you
like to fuck me, Dean?” he asks, smiling innocently up at Dean from between his
knees.
Dean’s heart races, and his dick stands stiffer because – hell yes. Dean
fumbles onto his knees, looking around helplessly for some kind of lubrication.
Even if he’d thought to bring anything, it’d be across the room with his
clothing, and he doesn’t ever want to move away from Cas’ body all laid out for
him like it is right now.
Castiel, understanding Dean’s dilemma, just grins up at him. “Don’t worry about
it,” he says, and Dean’s about ninety-five percent sure that’s not how sex
works, but he’s never done it and he knows Cas has, so maybe he should trust
him. But he’ll hurt him without lube, he knows that much, and that’s the
absolute last thing he wants to do right now.
Castiel grips Dean’s palms, drawing his attention back to him. “Dean,” he says
gently, still smiling that easy grin. “Trust me.”
Dean can only nod as Cas draws one of Dean’s hands between his legs. Dean’s
head goes fuzzy as he brings a finger to his hole, finding it slicked. Dean
didn’t even know that was possible. It figures Cas would know a lubrication
spell safe enough to use in his own ass. What’s really impressive, underneath
all the dead-fucking-sexy that’s currently short-circuiting Dean’s brain, is
the fact that Cas did it wandlessly. And silently. Dean didn’t even know sixth
years were capable of that.
He tries to ground himself, bring himself back to the present – to Cas – as he
presses in with a second finger. Cas wriggles and moans beneath him,
encouraging Dean to add a third as he begins pushing down onto Dean’s fingers.
“Please,” he moans as Dean twists inside of him. “Dean.”
Dean nods, knowing what Cas wants and wanting to give it to him, forcing
himself to breathe and be calm as he withdraws his fingers. He steadies himself
over Cas with his knees between Cas’ thighs and one hand outstretched over Cas’
shoulder, holding Dean up. Castiel turns his head, kissing Dean’s wrist
reassuringly as he skims his hands up and down Dean’s back, knowing Dean has
wanted this for a long time – knowing Dean is worried he’s going to fuck it up.
Dean uses his free hand to line himself up as Cas wraps his ankles around the
back of his knees, urging Dean forward. Dean acquiesces, pushing himself into
Castiel slowly, his breath coming short as the tight heat surrounds the head of
his cock – tighter and hotter than Dean could have ever imagined. It feels so
good – too good – and Dean knows he needs to pause if there’s any hope of him
lasting more than a few uncoordinated thrusts.
“So good, Dean,” Castiel soothes, encourages. “Feels so good.”
Dean looks up at him, sees his dilated pupils, his flushed skin, the adoration
in his eyes. He smiles, leaning down to kiss Cas gently as he quickly bottoms
out. Castiel moans into his mouth as Dean pulls back and slides in once more.
He clenches down on Dean hard, making him dizzy with pleasure.
“Fuck,” Dean pants as he finds a shallow rhythm, unwilling to pull himself too
far away from the heat that is Cas’ body. He drops to his elbows, no longer
capable of holding his weight. Dean glances down at where their bodies meet,
watching Cas’ dick twitch in interest, though he can’t quite sustain an
erection so soon after coming. Knowing that Cas is enjoying this is enough to
give Dean the confidence he needs to move faster, to drive into him harder.
Castiel moans encouragement into the skin of Dean’s chest, crying out when Dean
accidentally and unexpectedly finds his prostate. The sound makes Dean’s dick
throb, and he focuses all of his remaining stamina on getting Cas to make that
sound again.
Cas does. Repeatedly.
His cock flushes and fills once more at Dean’s relentless pace.
“Jesus, Cas,” Dean groans as he feels the pressure building low in his stomach.
His thrusts become erratic, more desperate. “Gonna come.”
Cas nods against his chest, digging his nails into Dean’s hips. He uses his
ankles to lever himself down onto Dean’s cock, matching him thrust for sporadic
thrust, his own cock trapped and aching between their bodies.
Dean thrusts once, twice more, bumping Castiel’s prostate hard, sending him
spiraling over the edge just seconds before Dean comes hot and deep inside of
him with a low groan.
Cas releases Dean’s hips, his arms dropping bonelessly to the tile below him as
Dean slumps onto his chest. Cas presses light kisses into Dean’s hair as they
ride out the afterglow. When their breathing returns to relative normalcy,
Castiel eases Dean out of him and onto his side. Dean allows himself to be
maneuvered down onto the cold floor, feeling his face crack into a blissed-out
smile as he watches Castiel reach for the shower tap, turning the hot spray
back on.
With the water running down his chest and back, Cas kneels and turns to Dean,
offering him a hand up.
Dean accepts it, doing his best not to stumble on his weak and wobbling legs.
They remain silent as Castiel conjures a washcloth, slowly and thoroughly
wiping Dean down with warm water and pear-scented soap. He rests Dean against
the stall divider as he cleans himself as well. Dean remains there even after
Castiel has shut off the water, not moving until Castiel steps out of the stall
and returns with a towel.
“Thanks,” Dean says hoarsely as he takes the towel from Cas’ outstretched hand.
Cas smiles at him mischievously, ruffling the towel through his damp hair
before bending to pick up the Gryffindor flag that had been kicked into the
corner of the stall at some point. “Anytime, Dean,” he says, placing the towel
around his shoulders and turning away from the stall, the red and gold flag
twirling gracefully through his fingers as he bends to gather his clothing.
Dean groans at the sight of Cas’ ass, knowing damn well he’ll be taking Cas up
on his offer. Sooner rather than later.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
