This is a continuation of the military school pwp I wrote for advent – so, this first bit is from the advent fic – but the rest is new enjoy. I might write more...I have a few ideas...but for the moment, assume this is complete.

Also, don't forget to check out my erotic drama novel – Ink – links in my profile

It's their first Christmas as one big happy family.

And Dean has just gotten kicked out of military school.

Castiel's gotten used to his step-brother not being around. He hasn't seen Dean since John married his Anna, Castiel's mother, because Dean was at military school even then – he was only back for the wedding itself. Castiel's a little scared of him, even though his Mom tells him that Dean's a good boy, Castiel can't quite believe it.

For one thing, good boys didn't get sent to military school.

And for another – Dean was angry all the time, and pretty violent to boot. At the wedding he'd called Anna, Castiel's mother, a bitch, and Castiel had gotten into a fight with him. Dean had damn near torn his arm off, wrenching it behind his back and slamming him against the wall of the bathroom they were in. He'd gotten really close to Castiel's neck and growled, "Really? That's it...that's all you've got?..." and Castiel had felt teeth against his pulse for a second, before Dean's uncle Bobby came in and broke it up.

Dean was crazy, and Castiel wanted to make it to seventeen without getting murdered.

But then, Dean probably wanted to make the most of these last two years of not being charged as an adult.

So the chances were evenly split that Castiel wouldn't live past Christmas.

He didn't really have anyone else to hang out with to avoid the house. Castiel loved his computers, more than people, the humming modems, swishing fans and steady thrum of the flickering screens. He was working his way through all the programming languages, kept a blog about his projects, and spent long hours constructing endless reams of code on the six monitors in his bedroom.

Dean loved loud music, louder TV, smoking, drinking and shooting fireworks off of the roof of the pool house.

So, Castiel was already aware that they were not a match as step-siblings, when he came home from his last day of school and found Dean lying on the bed, in Castiel's room, looking up at the six monitors and massaging his groin through the white briefs he had on.

Which were all he had on.

Castiel stood, frozen in the doorway, looking at Dean, sprawled over the double mattress and it's dark blue sheets. There was a lot to Dean, in terms of his size, the bulky muscle and long limbs that made him up. But Castiel had never seen him practically naked before. This was perhaps more revealing than total nudity, in some perverse way. He could see the shape of Dean's erect cock, where it curved up towards his belly, held down by the tight, translucent fabric. The shadow of its head was unmistakeable, made more so by the damp spot of fabric there.

Castiel realises that he's staring.

Dean lifts the hand from his groin, waves in sarcastic greeting. His other arm is behind his head, his body stretched lazily.

"Hey Cas, how's it going?"

"...what are you doing in here? Get out." Castiel says, when he can form words again. His fingers grip his shirt cuffs where they protrude from his sweater, a nervous habit.

"No." Dean says pointedly, like Cas is being unbearably slow in realising his own weakness.

Castiel takes a step forwards, and glances at the monitors.

His heart freezes.

"Great collection by the way." Dean says, hand returning to his cock lazily. "Really, really good..." his eyes fall closed for a second.

Castiel looks at six screens worth of porn. He has a fairly large collection, its pointless denying it, but he'd thought he'd hidden his downloads pretty well. He'd been wrong, apparently.

"That's private."

"Duh." Dean smirks at him. "Twinks and light bondage...not to mention your little machine kink...guess you don't want Mommy dearest to know about that." Dean points. "Because that right there? Is fucked up...Cassy I'm surprised at you."

Castiel feels himself flush, looking quickly away from the central screen, on which a lithe eighteen year old is being pounded by a motorised dildo. Shame tingles in his gut, mostly because of Dean's words, and not because of the images on screen, which are fairly damning in and of themselves.

"Seriously, why did you think Dad sent me to military school?" Dean flicks his eye to the screen, then back to Castiel. "Probably smart keeping it to yourself...shit, I didn't even guess." Dean laughs to himself quietly, then shifts a little and pats the bed lightly with the hand he's been busily caressing himself with. "Come lie down."

Castiel stays stock still in the doorway.

Dean sighs. "Christ, first time I catch you with some evidence that you're actually human, don't spaz out - come here."

Castiel inches forwards, driven only by fear of Dean and the brain-disconnecting weirdness of the situation they're in. He climbs up onto the bed, socked feet resting on the comforter, and lies down next to Dean.

"Better." Dean mutters, looking up at the screen, where the boy is flushed, pouring sweat and crying out as he beats off, ass getting hammered by the propelled rubber cock. Castiel looks at the screen as well, unable to keep his eyes away from it. The sounds over the speakers are turned up so loud, and the monitor is large, dominating most of the wall.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Dean fingers his cock through his school slacks.

Dean rolls onto his side, one arm sliding under Castiel's neck as he leans over his step-brother. Castiel shivers when he feels Dean's breath on his throat.

"Relax."

Dean's mouth touches his skin, and it might as well be a live wire. Castiel's hips rise from the mattress, and he whimpers at the feel of soft, damp lips on his artery, the nip of teeth as Dean breathes out against his skin.

"Keep watching." Dean murmurs, and his fingers tug down the zipper on Cas's pants, navigating my touch as they slide into his underwear and pull out his cock, exploring it blindly.

Castiel fights to keep his eyes on the screen, one hand finding its way helplessly into Dean's hair, pulling as Dean continues to suck at his neck, moaning, soft, porn worthy little sounds. His fingers, strong and capable, trace Castiel's bare cock from root to tip, stroking the crisp hair which he knows must be dark as that which is tickling his cheek, and following the line of it to the shallow indent just before the head, which he slides his finger around, just to hear Castiel fall apart. He's rewarded with a deep groan; Castiel's fingers tighten in his hair and Dean growls against his pulse point.

He curls his fingers under Castiel's cock, feeling the slight groove under the plump head, rubbing it and following it up, catching the flared edge of the tip and following it around, once, twice, until Castiel shudders and sobs out a low sound.

Only then does he slip one finger up, touching it to the slit at the very crown of Cas's dick, finding a tiny amount of wetness there. He strokes it, the skin smooth and fine, feeling it jump in his hand. Another drop wells against his finger, and Castiel breathes quickly, fighting for control as Dean withdraws his hand, bringing it up to taste the fluid on his fingers.

Dean allows himself his first look down to where his step-brother's pants are open, his cock now hard and pointing upwards, reddened as if scorched by his gaze. The tip produces more pre-come, and Dean watches the bead of pearly liquid as it rolls thickly down over the head, dipping into the crease below, and then on down the shaft.

He licks his fingers, relishing the first salty tang of Castiel on his tongue. Dean licks down his fingers, wetting his palm before returning it to Castiel's aching flesh, burying he face against the smaller teen's neck again, smelling his clean skin.

Castiel is lost, frantically trying to breathe and control himself, even as he thrusts wantonly into Dean's curled fingers. Dean's fist jerks down each time he thrusts up, and the tight wriggle of his fingers, the scrape of teeth along his jugular, has Castiel on the edge in seconds. His toes curl, feet scuffling desperately on the bed, his fingers drag on Dean's short, dirty blond hair, his back arches and he can feel his release getting away from him – spilling into every part of his body and throbbing with hot urgency.

"There you are." Dean mutters, and Castiel comes in two, hard jerks, biting into his lip and not able to remember when his eyes snapped shut.

He shakes, and he can feel Dean's hand on him, still squeezing his cock, so firmly that he can feel himself twitching in Dean's palm, feel his blood zinging close to the surface, right up against Dean's come covered hand.

Castiel's panting too hard to speak, too strung out to move as Dean slides away from him, getting to his knees and kneeling over Castiel's lax body.

He pulls himself out of his underwear, where the damp spot has spread, with one hand. With the other he pushes Cas's shirt and sweater up, his pants down, until he's naked from knees to chest.

Dean fixes his dark green eyes on Castiel's skin, one hand wrapped around his cock, his hips twitching impatiently as he strokes. It's hot, too hot for him to last, looking down at Castiel, good little Castiel, utterly ruined, covered in come, skin all flushed, a hickey blooming on his neck and his badly hidden porn still playing, filling the air with sounds.

Dean looks up, and see's Castiel watching him through heavy lidded eyes. He strokes faster, breath hitching with the effort. And then Castiel reaches up, his hands touching Dean's hips, cradling them in his sweat dampened palms. Dean jerks forwards into the pressure, head snapping back as he feels pleasure go through him, from his toes all the way up to his scalp - tingling and hot.

"Come on me."

Dean thinks he's imagined it, the breathy, barely there gasp of Castiel's voice.

But then he looks down, sees Castiel's eyes on him, feels the squeeze on his hips.

And that's it, Dean lets go, painting a white streak over Castiel's skin, watching the muscles of his stomach clench as he arches, shifting as Dean coaxes the rest of his release out onto Castiel's belly.

The dark haired teen whimpers, and Dean collapses onto the bed beside him.

This is going to make Christmas dinner seriously awkward.

(-*-)

Castiel sleeps face down on his blocky double bed. The room is cast in shades of gray, darkness overwhelming all the colours of his books and neatly displayed DVD cases. The large monitor screens over his desk are blank, the lights on the modems and control pads are all out.

Castiel sighs softly into the pillow under his face, blissfully asleep. Under the soft sheet draped over him, his legs shift, clad in loose cotton drawstring pants. His upper body is covered by his white t-shirt, the thin, smooth skinned planes of his back and legs are practically invisible in the darkness, swaddled as they are in cloth. His hair is flat and damp at his brow, his face creased slightly even in sleep with concern. His mouth is a little open against the pillow, dampening the cotton cover slightly as he breathes.

The door to the bedroom swings slowly open, and Castiel hears the slight sound it makes, even in the depths of sleep. His nose crinkles and he shifts, rubbing his face against the soft cotton of the pillow.

He wakes in a warm, sudden wave of motion, when the sheet over him is tweaked away, and a hot body replaces it.

He stirs, twisting, his limbs, still heavy with sleep and a languid desire to keep still in the warm comfort of his bed. Dean's knees are heavy on either side of him, the bulk of him pressing against Castiel's back. The smaller teenager can feel Dean's humid skin against him, and when Dean's hands tug at his t-shirt he grumbles sleepily in protest.

Dean presses harder against him, and Castiel feels the shape of his erection shift across his ass, finding its home in the cleft and rubbing impatiently. Dean's hot breath tickles the hair beside Castiel's ear.

"Hey." Dean grinds against him again.

"What'd you want?" Castiel mumbles.

Dean huff softly. "We won."

"Wha..."

"The game, dumbass. I scored, twice." Dean's breath catches into a husky moan as he moves against him. "All the guys were getting hugged by the cheerleaders after... bunch of 'em like bunnies jumping up and down...and then they all went parking." He pulls at Castiel's shirt again, succeeding in bunching it under his arms, a firm, hot hand burning down his spine. "I wanted you."

Castiel can feel the sweat on Dean, smell him and the exertion of the football game he'd played. He imagines what it would have been like, throwing his arms around the sweat damp, freshly exerted shape of Dean. Breathing out hot air into the cold night, muscles cooling down, body shivering.

In his mind's eye he can see Dean – hair flattened with sweat, shirtless, pelting about on the field after the ball. He's thought about that image a lot in the past few months. Since Christmas, since that bizarre incident with Dean...Castiel had felt increasingly attracted to his stepbrother. Not attracted only in the sense of Dean's developed physique – but in that Castiel found himself gravitating towards the other boy, sitting next to Dean at table, on the couch.

Castiel found himself constantly wanting to touch Dean when they sat close together, a finger trailed down his neck, the pad of a thumb against his full lower lip, a hand on his warm, strong arm, perhaps slid under his thin cotton t-shirt...

But Castiel held himself back. He was not built for the role of a demanding lover, or even to proposition. Dean might as well have been one of the actors in his downloaded porn files, an untouchable Adonis.

He had dreamt of that afternoon a lot, and since Christmas an ache had filled his belly, a need that would not leave him.

And now Dean was here again.

Dean's hands pulled at the hips of Castiel's pyjama pants, and Castiel lifted himself slightly, feeling the soft cotton slide down his legs, freeing his skin to experience the smooth sheets. Dean makes a sound, somewhere between a sigh and grunt, pulling the pants over Castiel's feet and throwing them to one side. His body settles back on Castiel's, and the smaller teenager gasps, expelling hot air into the pillow.

Dean is naked.

His skin, all that skin, presses against Castiel, hot and slightly damp with sweat. Still soft enough to be given away as young flesh, even with the muscles sliding and bunching underneath.

Dean hums, hands reaching up to remove Castiel's shirt. Castiel raises arms with a tiny sound of complaint, feeling Dean strip the shirt off and toss it to once side.

"Much better." Dean slides one heavy thigh between Castiel's legs, lying over his step-brother. Castiel's breath hitches at the feel of soft hair and the thick, hard swell of Dean's arousal against the creamy, sensitive flesh of the back of his thigh. Dean hums, low and smooth as a purr, rocking his hips a little, dragging the weight of his intimate, hot flesh against Castiel's skin. Castiel feels that it's different to his own, hardening slowly against the sheets, almost painfully, the flesh drawing tight and urgent. Dean's lolls heavily, solid and full but almost lazily supple.

"Do I get to turn round?"

Dean palms his way from Castiel's ass to his shoulder. "Depends...I haven't worked out what I want to do to you yet."

Castiel stiffens anxiously.

Dean sighs.

"I was joking." He lets up, moving back and allowing Castiel to roll gracelessly onto his back.

Dean's whole face is shadowed, his eyes dark and opaque in the dark room. The effect makes Castiel's heart jump, unsure what striking, strong Dean wants, or what he will let Dean do to him.

Dean stretches up, chiselled arms reaching towards the ceiling chest elongating, stomach hollowing out, cock shifting against his broad thigh.

He drops his hands to the pillow on either side of Castiel's head, settling over him carefully, one leg draped over Castiel's, the other left lying on the bed. He brushes his lips against those of his stepbrother, kissing him softly, and then more urgently, shifting his weight to make the position more comfortable.

Dean kisses Castiel, but after a few seconds, he realises that his stepbrother has no idea what to do. The smaller teen is lying with slightly parted lips, which move slightly with each press of Dean's on them, but seem otherwise frozen.

Dean pulls away, finding that Castiel is looking at him with worried, startled eyes.

"It's just a kiss." Dean tells him, feeling his back flush in embarrassment. At military school he'd experimented with a few of his peers, and kissed a little, but mostly the other guys hadn't liked to. They'd been ok with pretty much everything else though. Still, Dean had felt his heart in his throat when he'd gone to kiss Castiel, and the lack of response actually kind of hurt.

"I know, I..." Castiel blinked rapidly. "I was surprised."

Dean frowns, then leans forwards and kisses him again.

This time he can tell that Castiel is really trying, his mouth moves, but it does so awkwardly, opening against Dean's fully when he'd rather the smaller teen would get his lip between Dean's own. Lips too dry, head tilting the wrong way.

He pulls back again.

"You haven't done this before." He doesn't say it unkindly, but Castiel still flushes and looks away. Dean bites his lip, it's just too cute. "S'ok – not like I didn't have a first time."

Well, he had one – he doesn't quite remember it, between the beers and the back of the car being so dark.

And that whole part where the guy's dad had caught them at it and called John over like a shot to drag Dean home.

Still, no need to mention that.

Ever since he decided to drop into Castiel's bed, back while he was driving home from the game, Dean's been replaying Christmas over and over – remembering the sounds Castiel had made, the way he'd been so helpless – so gone.

Now he knows why.

It's taken so long to get Castiel awake and naked – now he knows that this is going to take longer, if he wants to show Castiel exactly what to do. And he really just wants to come, and sleep.

"So, I guess I know why you were so eager last time." Dean mutters. Castiel's face is flaming, turned away from him, and, Dean has to admit that his nerdy little stepbrother looks edible. He dips his head and takes a light bite of skin between lip covered teeth, trailing down Cas's neck.

The smaller teen squirms and gasps, and Dean brings one hand up lightning fast, turning Castiel's face towards him, and kissing his loosened mouth.

This time, Castiel doesn't freeze, and Dean manages to coax some pretty decent technique into him. He realises that his hand is still on Cas's neck, thumb pressing gently on his throat. But when he goes to move it, Castiel's whines, and his own hand comes up, covering it and squeezing Dean's hand gently, putting pressure on his own airway.

Dean's hips jerk forwards, any blood remaining in his brain departing on a swift journey downwards, heating his skin and making his heart jump as it goes. With Castiel's face in the crook of his elbow, their hands still joined on the smaller teen's throat, Dean ruts against him, moaning aloud when Castiel manages to get with the rhythm, arching up and rubbing his thigh between Dean's. Shudders run up and down his spine as he gets closer, and his hand closes harder under Castiel's own. He kisses whatever breath Castiel has, away, and the smaller teen shivers, body locking up as he comes.

Dean's never done anything like this before – the kind of kinky stuff that none of the guys at school would be caught dead doing – hell, he'd been locked up with twenty-five other gay guys – and they were all most emphatically tops. Still, he likes the giddy little head rush he gets when he pulls his hand away, and finds the skin underneath is already red – he comes as he sucks the reddened skin into his mouth, mouthing it gently, listening to Castiel whimper, feeling his hands flutter against his back.

He half laughs to himself, sprawled out, naked, on top of the limp form of his stepbrother. Because it feels good, so good, to be this relaxed in his own skin.

And his Dad is the idiot who brought Castiel into the house.

He doesn't even realise he's falling asleep, until Castiel moves, and jolts him out of his lion-in-the-sun doze. He rolls to one side, looks up at the ceiling, and sighs.

Castiel is the first one to speak, and Dean's surprised, because he'd had Castiel pegged as meek and clueless, but the words that come out of his mouth are anything but.

"You can't just leave me like that again."

"Like what?" Dean mutters, inwardly trying to think back – when had he left Castiel? The last time they'd done this? He'd picked himself up and gone straight back to his room, sure - but it had been over so...

"Alone, for months, Dean." Castiel turns to look at him, face creased with anger and frustration. "I thought I was going crazy, waiting for you to touch me."

Well...fuck – what exactly could he say to that? He'd thought it was a onetime thing, a little fondling, some mutual porn sharing, before the family atmosphere killed off any belt level feelings towards his stepbrother.

He hadn't even thought Castiel liked him very much - and really why should he? Dean had been an ass to him at the wedding. But, to be fair, he had just gotten out of military school – gotten razed by his dad for being kicked out, had a lecture about who and what he was not allowed to stick his dick in for the rest of his life...and then his dad had trotted out his fiancée, and her twink of a son.

The double standards had kind of thrown him for a loop. His Dad seriously expected him to live across the hall from Castiel – and not think about him like that?

Was he fucking with him?

Ok, so, Dean's thing for nerdy, librarian-teacher-oh-you've-yet-to-impress-me-Mr-Winchester types, was not well known by any means. Still, you'd have to be blind to not think Cas was hot.

So, in an effort to stay on his Dad's good side, Dean had tried his best to steer clear of Cas, and to warn him off as much as possible.

Now though, lying there all sleepy and warm, next to Castiel, he sees the last few months through new eyes – the way Castiel looked at him funny whenever Dean was just lazing around in his sweat pants, how sometimes, when they sat next to each other, Castiel's hand would twitch, in an aborted motion. About to reach out, but never making it.

And even before Christmas...Castiel had looked at him. Dean remembers going for a bottle of water from the refrigerator in the middle of the night, not bothering to throw anything on over his white shorts– finding Cas in the kitchen, toying with his DSL or whatever. And for a second he'd thought he'd felt heat in his gaze. But he thought he'd imagined it.

Clearly not.

"If you were so desperate, why not do something." Dean mutters.

Castiel scrunches up on the bed. "I didn't know if you wanted to."

Dean looks down at them both.

"Was this in any way unclear?"

Castiel shakes his head.

"Good...then next time, you come to me ok? Whenever you want it...and I'll show you what we can do."

The way Castiel licks his lip is probably a sin in itself.

"But...this doesn't seem...wrong, to you?" Castiel asks softly.

Dean huffs. "According to Dad, locking me up with some of the most maladjusted guys you will ever meet, while I was just getting a handle on this gay thing – was a good idea. Screwing around with the hot guy across the hall? I'm going to bet that, as long as it stays a secret...we're good." Dean looks at Castiel's throat, reaching out and tracing a finger along it. "You are a fucking kinky guy though."

Castiel's breath shakes, and Dean feels heat crawl up his spine when he thinks of all the things that he can show him – and all the things he has yet to think up, just waiting for Castiel to come along.