miss california. (_mournthewicked) wrote,
miss california.
_mournthewicked

fic: kick off your shoes and lay down (dean/sam/castiel, adult.)

Okay so, I surpassed 30,000 words on this new J2 AU I'm doing for my charity fic, but I needed a brain break, so I wrote this in like a day to recharge my batteries. Or something. And really, is anyone surprised by this? You all knew it was going to happen eventually.

So here, enjoy the dirtiest thing I have ever written. No, really. Baby's first threesome!

Title: kick off your shoes and lay down
Author: _mournthewicked
Pairing: Dean/Sam/Castiel
Rating: Adult. Oh yeah.
Word Count: ~ 6,500
Disclaimer: Look up the word ‘fiction’ in the dictionary. You will not find a picture of this story, but the definition of the word ‘fiction’, which this is.
Warnings: Up to 611. It kind of goes rogue after that. Written before 612 aired.
Summary: The only people allowed to touch Sam after he gets his soul back are his brother and an angel, and when they are touching him is the only time that he really feels whole.

Notes: Here guys, have some porn! This was written before I saw 612, but it sort of fixes something that I thought was missing. Thanks to kamikaze_redux for the beta! ♥

[pdf version]



The whole thing is Sam’s fault, anyway.

Sam gets his soul back and goes through a bit of, well, an adjustment period. That’s what Sam and Bobby call it, anyway. Dean likes to refer to it as Sam being a whiny little bitch, but really he’s okay with the temper tantrums and the freak-outs because this is Sam, warm and alive and eyes glowing with the light of his soul or whatever.

Dean doesn’t like that sometimes Sam wakes up screaming in the middle of the night like he hasn’t since they were kids or when his visions were at their worst. They’re nightmares, whether it’s of the time his soul spent as a chew toy for two pissed off archangels or memories of the things he did without said squeaky soul, Dean isn’t sure. But what he does know is that Sam doesn’t complain when Dean slides into his bed with him, turns and clings onto him even, and yeah, Dean doesn’t like that he gets upset.

But he likes that Sam needs him again. He likes to be needed. He doesn’t necessarily think he can help, but he can damn sure try. The way Sam clings to him sometimes, giant paws clutching at his arms, tells him that maybe he does help, just a little.

They decide to take a night off somewhere between a simple salt and burn and a riled up vampire nest, holed up somewhere flat and cloudy. It’s a dry county, so instead of a bar they make due with their motel room and whatever bottles of liquor happen to be kicking around the trunk. It’s not a bad set up. Sam still has a bit of trouble with people except Dean and Castiel touching him, nerves still too raw from all the damage done to him, so he’s more fond of quiet nights in than he ever was. And well, whatever works for Sam works for Dean, so he isn’t complaining.
“There’s nothing on TV,” Sam says with a slight slur. Dean opens his mouth but snaps it shut when Sam speaks over him. “Not even porn, you freak.”

They’ve finished the tequila and moved onto the whiskey, and Dean is sluggish when he rolls forward. Sam has the bottle, holding it between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bed like some greedy asshole, and he lets out a harsh breath when Dean flings himself at his back.

He hooks his chin over Sam’s shoulder, trusting his brother to hold him up as he reaches around to grab the tequila. He slips forward and has to steady himself by gripping Sam’s thigh, thumb dragging up the inseam as he gets his hand around the bottle.

“Let me have it,” Dean says, all loose and drunk-rough as he tugs at the bottle. Sam shivers and lets go of the bottle, turning his head slightly. This bares his neck to Dean, lets him smell warm, clean skin. It’s suddenly all too much, too close too warm too weird, and Dean pulls away to lean back against the headboard. He takes a long swig of the whiskey, way too far gone to wince at the burn in his throat. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear the fuzziness, but it doesn’t really help.

“I’m bored,” Dean says, voice pitched low and petulant like a child. A sudden thought pops into his head and he grasps onto it. “I wonder what Cas is doing. Think he might want to have a drink?”

“Call Cas,” Sam says softly. He falls back on the bed, arms going over his head until his fingers brush Dean’s calf. His eyes are closed and his hair is fanned out like some girl that just got tossed down onto the bed in some romance novel, all ready to be ravished. Not that Dean has ever read a romance novel, not even that time in that coin-op in Montana when there weren’t even any magazines to read. And he definitely doesn’t use words like ravished.

Sam and Castiel have been getting along really well ever since Sam got his soul back. It was tense, that first night that Sam finally woke up and Castiel came calling. He wanted to be sure that Sam was really Sam, that his soul was intact and was his.

Sam didn’t really remember the first time that Castiel had soul-searched him, but his body seemed to. It recoiled as Castiel rolled up his sleeve and Dean stood behind him, hands going to Sam’s shoulders partly to comfort him and partly to hold him to the chair.

“This will hurt, Sam,” Castiel had warned him. Sam’s eyes widened and darkened as Castiel came closer and he sucked his belly in away from the approaching hand. Castiel reached up with his other hand, placing it on Sam’s cheek and looking into his eyes. “I don’t want it to, but it will hurt. I’ll be brief. Do you trust me?”

Sam had nodded, leaned into Castiel’s touch even, and Cas had seemed relieved. Sam always did have a weird hero worship thing with Cas, what with him being an angel of the lord and all. So Castiel kept one hand on Sam’s cheek, gentle and warm as Dean knelt down and wrapped his arms around Sam’s shoulders from behind, holding him tightly and burying his face in the back of Sam’s neck. He didn’t think that he could bear to watch.

And then Sam had screamed; deep, agonizing screams that rocked Dean down to his core because he could hear his brother in them. Just as Castiel had promised, it was over quickly. Castiel pulled away and took Sam’s cheeks in his hands, both of them this time, and Dean had raised his head to see Sam looking up at Cas with tears in his eyes.

“You are damaged,” Castiel told him as his fingers curled around Sam’s jaw. “But you are whole. With time, and a little help,” his gaze flicked to Dean at that, “you will heal. Welcome back, Sam.”

Sam had let out a sob, something deep and sorrowful but tinged unmistakably with relief, something he was prone to do in those first few days after he woke up. Dean had held onto him from behind, and was more than a little surprised when Castiel had knelt down to wrap his arms around them both. That embrace lasted for a very long time, until Dean’s knees ached and Sam fell asleep between them.

Dean and Castiel had shared a look, something deep and meaningful, just before he was gone in a rush of displaced air. They never talked about it, but Sam seemed a lot keener on being around Castiel after that night.

And well, Dean wasn’t complaining.

“Tell him to bring more tequila,” Sam says softly, fingers curling into the worn denim of Dean’s pant leg. Dean’s phone is all the way across the room so he just settles back against the headboard and closes his eyes.

“Castiel,” Dean says, and Sam repeats it on a sloppy, drunken exhale. “Hey Cas. If you hear me, come on down here and have a drink with us.”

“Tequila,” Sam says with a tug on Dean’s pant leg. Dean nods and clears his throat.

“We request your feathery presence,” Dean says with a barely bitten back grin. “And Sam requests tequila.”

Silence. Dean juts out his lower lip, not that he’d ever admit it, and Sam lets out a disappointed groan. God, he’s a fucking noisy drunk.

“Looks like it’s just you n’ me, Sammy,” Dean says, and Sam gets this grin on his face. He doesn’t seem to mind his nickname so much anymore. Dean likes to think that it’s because it’s all his. It means that he’s back to himself.

“One would think that I would be used to your impatience by now, and yet it’s still almost shocking.” Sam and Dean look over at the sound of fluttering feathers and a rough voice. He’s standing at the end of the other bed, the one Sam and Dean aren’t currently sprawled across, and by god, is that a hint of a smile on his face? “I was unsure of your preference.”

That’s when Dean notices the bottles sticking out of the pockets of his trench coat. Patron, one silver and one gold, and Dean smiles like it’s his birthday and Christmas all in one.

“You really are a savior,” Dean says, and Castiel extracts the bottles, looking down at them with mild curiosity. “Me n’ Sammy will take the silver. You drink the gold.”

“All the gold,” Sam says from his place as a squirming lump on top of the sheets. Drunk Sam is truly a sight to behold. He just makes noise and moves around like a happy kitten or some shit. Dean half expects him to start purring. “You need to catch up.”

“I’m not sure that I should stay,” Castiel says, but he doesn’t look entirely convinced. “I do have matters to attend to.”

“Even the sheriff gets a night off every once in awhile, Cas,” Dean says with a come hither grin, and Castiel sits dutifully on the side of the other bed. He hands one bottle over to Dean and opens the gold for himself, tipping it back and chugging like it’s water and he’s thirsty as hell.

Sam rolls over, head resting on Dean’s knee as they both watch Castiel’s throat work, eyes tracking his Adam’s apple as it bobs up and down. Castiel doesn’t need to pause to take a breath, and when he pulls the bottle away it’s over half gone.

“Holy shit,” Dean says, and he swears Sam sighs happily when Castiel’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“I’m not sure that I care for the taste,” is all Castiel says as he sets the bottle on the nightstand. “But I do believe that it will get the job done, as you say.”

Sam laughs and laughs, hands going to his belly, and Dean can’t help but to join in.

An hour later all the tequila is gone, along with the whiskey and whatever the hell that clear shit in the trunk of the Impala was. Dean and Sam have stolen their own sips and dumped the rest into Castiel in an attempt to get him well and properly trashed.

It seems to have worked. He’s shucked his trench coat, suit jacket, and even his tie and has flopped down on the bed next to Dean. He’s slumped down against the headboard, mirroring Dean’s position, and he’s a happy, welcome weight pressed against his side.

Sam is lying across the end of the bed, head pillowed on Dean’s ankle with one of Castiel’s legs slung over his thighs.

“Well, this is nice,” Castiel says, and his voice is even rougher than usual. It sort of does it for Dean. He’s not exactly sure what “it” is at this point, but he’s sure that he’ll figure it out. “I appear to not have the capacity for thought anymore, and that’s greatly appreciated.”

“Are they givin’ you a hard time up there, Cas?” Dean asks, head lolling to the side to look at him, and that’s when he realizes how close they really are. Castiel huffs out a growl, one that sounds like you have no fucking idea, when really it goes straight to Dean’s dick.

He doesn’t think about that too much, instead just slumps down and rests his cheek against Castiel’s shoulder. He vaguely wonders how his shirt still smells Downy fresh when he isn’t sure that Castiel can even work a washing machine.

Sam rolls onto his side and Dean curls his leg in a bit so Sam can rest his head comfortably in the bend of his knee. He watches them and a bright, unabashed drunken grin spreads across his face. It’s a good look for him.

“Look at that,” Sam says, one hand reaching up to rest on Castiel’s knee. “Dean and Castiel sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.”

“What are you, twelve?” Dean asks with a snort, and Sam just keeps on smirking his intoxicated little smirk.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel says, head tipping to the side until his cheek is resting atop Dean’s head. “We aren’t in a tree; we’re on a bed. And we aren’t kissing.”

“It’s a saying, Cas,” Sam says in an amused tone. Dean watches as Sam’s fingers curl tighter around the back of Castiel’s knee. “An old schoolyard thing.”

“So if Dean and I were to kiss, it would have to be in a tree?” Castiel asks, and Dean cracks up. Drunk Castiel is almost as entertaining as drunk Sam and fuck, in that moment, he’s happy.

“No, Cas, shit,” Dean says through a laugh. “If you wanted to kiss me you’d just kiss me, no trees involved.”

“Oh,” Castiel says thoughtfully, and then he tips Dean’s chin up and brings their mouths together. It’s unexpected but warm, and Dean leans into it before he gives himself the chance to think about it. Castiel’s lips are dry and soft, and Dean gets them wet with his tongue. It’s sort of filthy for a first kiss, Dean idly realizes as he pushes his tongue into Castiel’s mouth and lets him suck on it.

Castiel turns, fingers wrapping around the back of Dean’s neck as the kiss gets deeper, messy and intense. Castiel lets out a grunt and then there’s a soft whimper that doesn’t come from either of them. Dean pulls away, eyes opening as the string of saliva connecting his mouth to Castiel’s breaks, and they both slowly turn their heads to look at Sam.

Dean isn’t sure what he was expecting to find, but it certainly wasn’t a spark of interest in Sam’s eyes. He has one hand curled around Castiel’s knee, fingers digging in, and his other arm is curled under his head like a pillow.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says, and Dean is more than a little surprised by the flare of heat in his belly. It’s not like he never watched Sam, like he never noticed Sam watching him, but it wasn’t something that was either acknowledged or acted upon. “Go on, Dean. Kiss him.”

Dean turns his gaze back to Castiel, who looks a little confused and a lot desperate, blue eyes flitting between Dean’s eyes and his lips. Dean slides his fingers into Castiel’s thick hair and kisses him again. Castiel moans softly, one hand reaching over to rest on his chest.

Dean growls a little, nipping at Castiel’s bottom lip as he shifts his hips. He’s really hard, the lazy, alcohol-fueled half-wood that he’s been sporting all night swelling and pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. He kisses his way down Castiel’s jaw, moaning at the feeling of stubble against his sensitive lips. He pulls Castiel’s shirt open and gets his mouth on the delicate line of his collar bone, licking and sucking a mark into his skin before Castiel drags him up by his hair for another kiss.

There’s a hand on Dean’s hip and two on his face, and he pulls back slightly to see Sam hovering in front of them on his knees, eyes blown black with lust. Dean looks at him, smiles wickedly at the feeling of Castiel panting against his cheek, and nods for him to come forward.

He tips Castiel’s chin up and Sam leans in to kiss him almost worshipfully, lips lingering on Castiel’s just long enough for the angel to get with the picture. He goes to Sam willingly and that’s when the kiss gets hungry. Sam’s hand nearly covers Castiel’s entire cheek and Dean reaches down to squeeze himself through his jeans.

It’s so fucking hot, his brother and his angel making out right in front of him, moaning and slurping like they’ve never felt anything better and it’s just kissing. Dean slides his hand up the back of Castiel’s shirt, fingertips ghosting along soft skin. He’s so smooth and unblemished, not a single mark on him to show how much he’s gone through. Dean wants to mark him up, bruise his skin.

He grips the fabric of Castiel’s shirt in his fist and yanks him back. His mouth parts with Sam’s and his brother lets out this soft little whimper like not being able to kiss Castiel anymore is the saddest thing in the world. And Dean gets it, he really does.

Castiel leans back against the headboard and Dean is suddenly face to face with Sam, breathing harshly in each other’s faces on either side of Castiel’s head. Sam looks at Dean’s mouth and fucking groans, like he wants to taste it so goddamn bad. Dean leans in and then pauses. He meets Sam’s eyes and they both glance at Castiel, unsure.

“I think we’re far beyond me passing any sort of judgment,” Castiel grinds out, and fuck, he sounds wrecked. He lifts his arms, one hand going on the back of Dean’s head and the other one on the back of Sam’s, fingers tangling in his stupid long hair that Dean will never admit that he just wants to touch. Castiel looks at them with a fond quirk of his lips, juxtaposing the heat in his eyes. “Go on, then. To be honest, I’m surprised that it hasn’t already happened. The two of you think quite loud sometimes.”

Castiel nudges gently, his palms just barely applying pressure to the back of their heads, and their mouths meet in the middle. Dean kisses Sam, or Sam kisses Dean. It doesn’t really matter because it’s fucking happening. Castiel groans and Dean reaches up to tangle his fingers in Sam’s hair and tug. He groans, jerks a bit, and Dean grins filthily against his lips. Sam tastes so good, kisses so hard, and Dean feels more drunk off of that than he does off of the tequila in his gut.

Sam bites down on Dean’s bottom lip, tugs, and then soothes the sting with his tongue. Castiel is still holding their necks, thumbs pressing into the hollow behind their ears as they kiss like they’re starving and hell, maybe this is years of unresolved sexual tension finally coming to a head. Dean wants to throw Sam down onto the bed, rip him open and crawl inside.

Apparently Castiel is done watching because he leans forward to swipe his tongue across the place where their mouths meet. Dean groans and then they’re all kissing, wet and sloppy. Dean’s chin is covered in spit and someone bites him, he isn’t even sure who, and he pulls back just to breathe.

Sam and Castiel just tip into each other when Dean pulls away, mouths still fused together. Dean pulls his tee shirt over his head, way too fucking hot, and reaches forward to undo the buttons on Castiel’s shirt as he presses his mouth underneath Sam’s jaw to bite at his pulse point. He gets Castiel’s shirt off without even breaking their kiss, and Dean reaches out to thumb at a pink nipple.

He grabs Castiel’s jaw and pulls him away, taking over the kiss as Sam disrobes. He’s so lost in Castiel’s goddamn mouth that he doesn’t even notice that Sam has popped the button on his jeans until he feels his brother’s mouth on his hipbone. He groans against Castiel’s mouth and slumps down, straightening out his legs and lifting his hips as Sam pulls his jeans down and off. He’s naked, completely fucking spread out at their mercy, and Sam takes the head of his dick into his mouth at the same moment that Castiel bites down on that spot on Dean’s neck like he just fucking knew. He vaguely registers that Castiel probably does know; he put Dean back together piece by piece, and that includes his erogenous zones.

He bucks up into Sam’s mouth and he chokes, barely letting it deter him before he takes a breath and screws his mouth right back down onto Dean’s dick. He reaches down to grab Sam’s hair, tug on the strands until Sam moans and hums around his dick.

“Get your dick out,” Dean says to Castiel, reaching down to squeeze the sizable bulge in his slacks. “I’ll suck you while you do Sam. Oh god, shit, Sammy.”

Castiel doesn’t take his slacks off, but instead they just fucking disappear right along with Sam’s jeans and underwear. It’s then that Dean is reminded of just what Castiel is, and a shudder runs through his entire body. Castiel looks at them like he isn’t sure what to do, and Dean pushes him down onto his side, grabbing Castiel’s thigh to manhandle him into position, and the hottest thing is that Castiel just lets him.

He bends over as much as he can, careful not to dislodge Sam as Castiel does his own repositioning on his brother. He grips Castiel’s dick in his hand, looking down at the precome bubbling from the slit. It’s been a long time since Dean has done this, and he’s fucking hungry for it as he takes Castiel into his mouth to suck him clean. Castiel moans and Sam’s motions stutter on his cock for a moment. Dean looks up from under his eyelashes to see Castiel taking his brother’s dick into his mouth. It’s fucking huge and Castiel should be gagging, probably would be if angels did things like gag on dick.

Dean arches his hips, toes curling as Sam sucks on him with just barely too much pressure. He’s sloppy with it and Dean hopes he’s the first dick that’s ever been in Sam’s mouth with a sudden rush of fierce possessiveness. Sam pulls up and off with a loud pop, gasping for breath as he rests his head on Dean’s hip. He looks debauched, lips more red and puffy than Dean has ever seen.

“I want, fuck, Dean,” he mumbles. Dean pulls off of Castiel’s dick, jacking it slowly as he turns his attention to his brother. He puts his hand on Castiel’s back and he slows his actions, suckling gently on the head of Sam’s dick like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

“Tell me what you want, Sammy,” Dean says as gently as he can with his throat scraped raw. He reaches down to push Sam’s hair out of his face and meet his eyes.

“I want you to touch me, both of you,” Sam says desperately. “Feel good when you touch me, feel whole. Like I’m not broken.”

“Sam,” Castiel breathes, hand sliding up his inner thigh. Dean swallows hard and wipes a thumb across his brother’s mouth, all swollen and dark from his dick.

“I want you to fuck me,” Sam says brokenly, reaching up to put his hand on Dean’s stomach. “Thought about it, want you in me. It’d feel so good, Dean, please.”

Dean and Castiel share a look and Castiel nods, one hand flattening against Sam’s stomach as he gets it. Castiel wraps an arm around Sam and lifts him, like the giant bastard doesn’t weigh anything at all, and lays him down gently in the center of the bed.

Sam is breathing hard, eyes wide and wet as he looks up at Dean. Castiel moves to pull away, maybe even slide off of the bed, and Dean reaches out to snag his wrist. He tugs once, forcefully, and Castiel nods.

“I’ve got you, Sammy,” Dean says as he touches Sam’s cheek, his forehead, the side of his neck. It’s getting a little emotional here, the air thick and heavy with things unsaid, and Dean leans down to kiss his brother. It’s softer than their earlier kisses, less wet but just as intense. He slides his hand down Sam’s chest and stomach, keeps going until he can press his fingers to the smooth skin behind his balls. “You sure?”

Sam grips the back of Dean’s neck and nods, mouthing at Dean’s jaw, and he takes a breath. He wants to blame it on the alcohol, and maybe that is was started this, but it sure as hell isn’t what’s going to finish it. Dean leans over his brother to pull Castiel in for a kiss, pressing their foreheads together and gesturing at Sam. Castiel nods, kissing Dean again before lying down next to Sam, taking his chin in his hand and picking up where Dean left off.

Dean gets up on shaky legs to retrieve the bottle of lube from his duffel. He turns to see Sam and Castiel naked and making out on his bed. It’s enough to make his dick twitch and he crawls in between his brothers legs. He grabs a stray pillow and folds it in half before shoving it underneath Sam to angle his hips up.

Dean is so far gone, just wants to fuck hard and come and pass out, but that’s warring with the desire to make this oh so fucking good for Sam. He lets out a needy whine because he just doesn’t know what else to do, and then Castiel’s palm is on his forehead. He feels calmer after that and he has no idea if it’s Castiel’s touch or just his touch, but he doesn’t really care.

Dean kisses the inside of Castiel’s wrist in gratitude and settles himself between Sam’s legs, dick still throbbing but able to focus on his task. He spreads Sam’s thighs and groans at the sight of his exposed hole, all pink and clenching. He presses his fingertips to it and closes his eyes for a moment when Sam moans.

“Have you ever had anything in here, Sammy?” Dean asks huskily, and he looks up to see Sam pull away from Castiel’s mouth to shake his head. Dean groans and presses his forehead to Sam’s inner thigh just to steady himself. “Your fingers?”

Sam’s cheeks get even pinker, if that’s even possible, and it’s so good to see his brother do normal human things like blush and whimper that Dean doesn’t even think before he’s pressing his mouth to that hole. He licks and Sam cries out, arching his back. He can’t see what Castiel is doing, but they aren’t kissing anymore because Sam is loud. Dean just continues to lick until his chin is drenched in spit and then he pulls away, slides in his middle finger and moans right along with Sam.

“So fucking tight, Sam,” Dean mumbles. “You gotta relax for me.”

Castiel stops his ministrations on Sam’s left nipple and looks up with a gleam in his eye. He slides down and kisses Dean, practically eating at his mouth before pulling away to grip Sam’s dick and suck the head into his mouth.

Dean has to say, he’s damn pleased at how eagerly Castiel has taken to sex. It’s like all he needed was to experience human lust and now he’s all for it, wants to dive in and experience it all.

Dean pulls his finger out of Sam and drizzles him with lube before sliding two in. It’s so hot, too tight, and Sam keeps wriggling and clamping down like it’s all just too much. Castiel’s hand travels up Sam’s inner thigh and touches the inside of Dean’s wrist before he slides a finger in alongside Dean’s. It’s so fucking tight, stretches Sam open, and he cries out with pleasure.

“We’ve got you,” Dean says, squeezing Sam’s hip and his free hand as his eyes drift down to the sight of Castiel sucking Sam’s dick. And fuck, what a pretty sight it is. “We’ll take care of you. Come in Cas’s mouth, let him suck you dry.”

Sam keens and Dean starts to move his fingers in and out in an alternating rhythm with Castiel’s finger, leaning in to lick across his lips where they’re stretched around Sam’s dick. Castiel is flushed and sweaty, hair sticking up wildly. He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Mm, let me have a taste,” Dean says, and Castiel pulls up just enough to share the head of Sam’s dick with him, letting them both lick at it. Sam practically screams, balls tightening up, and Castiel nudges Dean out of the way to suck Sam back down as he comes. Sam lets out a sound unlike one that Dean has ever heard and Castiel moans. Dean watches his throat work as he swallows and he pulls Castiel up, needs to fucking taste. Castiel withdraws his finger and kisses Dean eagerly, pushing what’s left of Sam’s spunk into his mouth with his tongue.

Dean fingers Sam and kisses Castiel filthily, licking his mouth clean. Sam relaxes against the bed and spreads his legs just that bit wider, and Dean slides a third finger in. He curls them up and Sam practically sobs.

“Mm, that’s right,” Dean says breathlessly once he’s broken away from Castiel. He places his other hand on Sam’s stomach and Castiel slides back up to kiss his shoulder. “Told you we’d take care of you. I’m gonna fuck you, Sam. Gonna put my dick in this tight little hole and make you feel so good. Gonna get you hard all over again, making you come all over yourself.”

“Dean,” Sam says brokenly. He meets his brother’s eyes, sees the love and trust shining in them, and he just can’t wait anymore. He pulls his fingers out and gets between his brother’s legs, gripping the base of his bare dick and smearing it with lube. “Do it, Dean. Please, need you.”

And then he’s sliding in and all three of them groan. He keeps pushing, slow and steady until he’s all the way inside, and a tear rolls down Sam’s cheek.

“Does it hurt?” Dean asks, and Sam sucks in a shaky breath and looks up at him.

“No,” Sam replies loosely. “Nothing hurts. Feels so good, Dean. Please.”

Dean wraps Sam’s legs around his waist and leans forward to kiss him, tongue slipping into his brother’s mouth in time with his slow thrusts. Castiel kisses Dean’s shoulder and he reaches down with his still-slick fingers and slides them between Castiel’s legs. He slides one finger all the way in, listens to Castiel sigh, and pulls it out only to push two back in.

So here he is, Dean Winchester, righteous man, fucking his brother and fingering an angel. If only heaven and hell could see him now.

He hopes they can.

Sam has one arm around Castiel and the other around Dean and he’s kissing both of them, one and then the other and back again. They’re just a heaving pile of limbs and sweaty skin, and Dean pulls out only to thrust back in particularly hard at what he hopes is just the right angle. Judging by Sam’s scream, he guessed right.

Dean is sort of amazed that he hasn’t come yet. Stamina was never really an issue with him, but still, this is the best sex he’s ever had. Castiel has Dean’s fingers in his ass and Sam’s hand around his dick and he hasn’t come yet either. He can probably last as long as he wants to, and Dean’s ass clenches hungrily as he files that information away for later. Because yeah, as fucked up as this is, he knows that they’re going to do it again. It feels too good to let go.

Sam’s dick hardens against his belly, lengthening and thickening, and Dean gets an idea. He’s got three fingers inside of Castiel and he crooks them up, shuddering when the angel moans.

“You want more, Cas?” Dean asks, and blue eyes meet his as he nods desperately and pushes back against Dean’s fingers. “Want Sam to fuck you?”

Sam moans at that, arching his back and baring his neck. Dean wraps his hand around it, not squeezing, but just dragging it down to his stomach. Sam is all rock hard muscle, tan and gleaming with sweat underneath Dean. He’s fucking gorgeous, especially next to Castiel, who is sinewy and pale but still sexy as hell.

“Yes,” Castiel breathes, grinding down on Dean’s fingers. “I want it.”

Dean pulls out of Sam, who whimpers at the loss, and holds out a hand for him to take.

“Feelin’ steady, Sammy?” He asks as Sam sits up, thighs trembling as he moves towards Dean. Sam just nods and leans against his brother’s chest. Dean wraps an arm around him, fingers sliding into his tangled hair. “Lay down on your back, Cas. Just like Sam was.” Castiel gets into place quickly, legs spreading to make room for them. Dean turns Sam around gently, holding him up with one arm around his belly. He pulls Sam’s hair away from his neck and presses a soft kiss there, whispering roughly. “Mm, look at him, Sam. He wants us. Fuck him with me?”

Sam nods, too strung out for words, and Dean reaches around Sam’s waist to spread Castiel’s thighs. His hole is red and a little puffy, shining and open from Dean’s fingers. Sam twitches at the sight and leans over Castiel, hooking one arm under his leg.

“Do it with me,” Dean whispers, and reaches around to wrap his hand around the base of Sam’s dick. He rocks against Sam’s ass, pushing him forward into Castiel. Sam moans shakily and Castiel lets out a sharp rush of air as Sam pushes in to the hilt. “How’s that feel?”

“Oh god, Dean,” Sam gets out. He has one hand on Castiel’s hip and the other reaching back for Dean’s thigh, trusting his brother to hold him up. “Cas.”

“Sammy,” he breathes, and slides his dick back inside, making Sam shake beautifully beneath him. “Mm, lay on Cas. He can take it.”

Castiel nods and pulls Sam down on top of him, finding his mouth. Dean puts his hands on Sam’s hips and pulls them back, pausing for a moment before pushing them forward again. He sets their pace, fucking Sam into Castiel while he stays buried deep inside Sam.

“Little faster,” Dean says, and starts rocking their hips in a new pace. It’s amazing how well they fit together, like cogs of the same machine, well-oiled and designed to fit.

Dean lays himself across his brother’s back as they fuck, confident in knowing that they could never crush Castiel. He bites at his brother’s shoulders, leaves marks as Castiel’s nails drag down Dean’s sides.

“Let’s get Cas off,” Dean whispers, more than happy to take the lead. He pulls them back a little, finding Sam’s hand and slipping it under his belly to find Castiel’s dick. They wrap their hands around it, pulling together, and Castiel lets out a sob as he digs his fingernails into their skin. “Come on, Cas. We wanna see what you look like when you lose it.”

He hooks his chin over Sam’s shoulder, biting at his jaw but looking at Castiel as he snaps his hips forward faster. Sam’s breath hitches and his hand starts to work a little faster, pulling up on Castiel’s dick and twisting at the head.

“Oh, oh,” Castiel breathes. He arches up as much as he can underneath them and cries out harshly as he spills over their fingers. Sam moans and Dean bites down on the side of his neck at the sight, so fucking hot. “Shit.”

Dean chuckles at that. All it took for Castiel to loosen up was a dick in his ass. Castiel looks up at them, lips swollen and eyes hooded, and slides his feet down the backs of Dean’s thighs.

“Your turn, Sammy,” Dean says as he pushes in and grinds against that spot until Sam drops his head with a guttural moan. “Come inside of him, all hot and sticky.”

He wraps his arms around Sam and pulls him back towards him a little, hands on his chest as he fucks into him. Sam digs his fingers into Castiel’s hips and jerks forward with a loud cry.

“Dean, fuck, Cas, shit.” Sam buries himself inside Castiel, who moans as Sam empties inside of him. After that they both seem determined to get Dean off, rocking back against him. Sam braces himself on his hands over Castiel and tilts his ass up like the prettiest fucking invitation Dean has ever seen, and he sure as hell can’t say no.

He fucks into Sam harder, just this side of rough, but Sam seems to love it. Sam and Castiel both say his name in unison, one long exhale, like they fucking planned it. Castiel presses his puffy mouth against Sam’s, licking his way in, and that’s fucking it.

He comes with a groan and Sam moans, happy and content, into Castiel’s mouth as Dean fills him up. He stills his hips for a moment and then presses a hand to Sam’s lower back to keep him in place as he slides out. This earns him a soft whimper from Sam, and Dean swears under his breath as he watches Sam’s hole flutter and shrink, his come running down his thighs. It’s more than hot, it’s close and intimate and so fucking awesome.

Dean scoots back and grabs Sam’s hips, pulling them back slowly so he can watch his dick leave Castiel. It earns him another shudder and a chorus of soft sighs, and Dean presses a kiss to Sam’s hip before he flops onto his back next to Castiel, exhausted.

They both reach up at the same time to pull Sam down between them. They’re sweaty, sticky, and pretty gross, but even though Dean was never much for cuddling he can’t bring himself to care.

“Well that was the best fucking thing ever,” Dean says as he slides his hand up Sam’s flank. He kind of thought it would be awkward, lying there in a pile of sweaty limbs with his brother and an angel, but it isn’t. It feels easy and comforting.

“I agree,” Castiel says, voice all fucked out, and he reaches out to touch them purposefully. Dean laughs when suddenly they’re all clean of sweat and come, hair dry and back into place. Even the sheets are clean.

“Neat trick,” Sam rasps, and he looks about ready to fall asleep. “Uh, thank you. Both of you.”

“Anytime,” Dean says, and he means it. Sam looks at peace, untroubled as his eyes slip shut. He leans down to kiss his mouth softly, and Sam hums as he returns it. He lifts his head to look at Castiel, pausing for only a moment before leaning over to kiss him too. “Stay with us.”

He doesn’t phrase it like a question because it isn’t one. Dean wants him there, hell, needs him there, so he can damn well stay. Castiel nods, turning in to sling an arm over Sam and rest his hand on Dean’s hip. He settles in, sleepy and warm, the alcohol still making his skin buzz pleasantly.

And yeah, maybe a whole lot of fucked up shit has gone down and Sam’s soul is still healing, but he basks in the happy moment. He has his brother, in more ways than he ever did before. He and Cas will help him in any way they can.

Dean isn’t sure when he fell asleep, but when he wakes up the sun is filtering in through the curtains and Sam hasn’t had a single nightmare. He’s dozing fitfully between them and Dean just lifts his head and smiles wolfishly at Castiel.

And, well, check-out isn’t until noon.


[end.]
Tags: dean/sam/castiel, fic, supernatural
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