miss california. (_mournthewicked) wrote,
miss california.

fic: run right into you (sam/dean/cas, adult, collab with obstinatrix)

Ah, we've reached the end. ... Or have we?

Title: run right into you
Authors: _mournthewicked & obstinatrix
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Dean/Castiel.
Rating: Adult.
Word Count: ~ 8,500
Warnings: Mentions of underage sex and celestial voyeurism.

Summary: What the three of them have is all sorts of complicated, but it works. It works really well, actually, and at the tail end of a very bad day, Castiel just wants to go somewhere that he knows he belongs. Sam and Dean can give him that. (Follows like a slow fire burn and we crash and we roll.)

Notes: And this is it, my friends. The end of our wincestiel trilogy. We had a blast churning out all this porn, that's for sure. Thanks to kamikaze_redux for the beta. All titles from this 'verse come from the song Run by Matt Nathanson. ♥

Dean’s coming out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel, when suddenly a loud bang makes him jump and dive for his duffel. He’s got his hand around the handle of a knife, heart pounding, when he looks up and sees that it’s only Cas.

“Jesus, man. You scared the crap out of me.” Dean lets the knife drop, chuckling nervously as he straightens himself. It’s then that he looks at Cas, really looks, and raises a brow. “You okay, Cas? You look like hell.”

Cas is standing in the middle of the room, chest heaving, hands curled into fists at his sides. His hair is sticking up in every direction and his eyes are wild, deep dark blue pinning Dean down where he stands. There’s something like electricity crackling through the air, the strong scent of copy toner, and the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stand up. “Uh, Cas?”

“I’ve had what you would call a bad day,” Cas says through gritted teeth, going so far as to toss finger quotes up around the words. He looks tense and angry, not at Dean, but at the world in general. Dean slumps a little, nodding his understanding.

“And you want to blow off a little steam?” Dean smirks cockily, trying to diffuse the tension in the room, and holds out a hand to Cas, fingers crooked invitingly. “C’mere.”

“I didn’t come here for your pity, Dean.” Cas steps up to him, splaying one hand in the center of Dean’s chest, pushing him backwards until his shoulders hit the wall. Dean swallows hard, looking directly into Cas’s vividly bright eyes. Cas lets out a breath, hand sliding up until his fingers wrap loosely around Dean’s throat. Dean’s eyes widen and his dick stiffens up a bit in his jeans, an involuntary reaction to the display of power in front of him. Cas’s fingers tighten around Dean’s throat but he’s not afraid, trusts Cas explicitly, and it only makes him harder when Cas waves his other hand with a flourish and their clothes disappear. They’re naked, Dean’s palms pressed flat against the wall with Cas’s hand around his throat. “I came here for your ass.”

“Jesus -” Dean can’t even get the word out before Cas is crashing their mouths together, teeth sinking into the swell of Dean’s bottom lip, Cas’s fingers still curled around his throat. Dean thinks about his brother, just out on a beer run, and tips his head back. They’ve never talked about it, but they’ve never been with Cas without the other there. It makes Dean think, even through the haze of lust draped over him like a blanket, makes him wonder if he’s breaking some unspoken rule. Of course, leave it to Dean to become faithful once he starts getting plowed by his little brother. “Sam - Sam isn’t here,” Dean gasps out, words muffled by Cas’s mouth.

“He will be,” is all Cas says, and he grabs Dean by the shoulders to spin him around, pressing his cheek to the wall with a hand on the back of his head. He kicks Dean’s feet apart and molds himself up against Dean’s back, rocking his hips against the swell of his ass as he grips the short strands of his hair in his fist. Dean hisses audibly when his hard dick brushes the cool, smooth wall and he presses his palms against the wall to brace himself. “Did he fuck you today?”

“Cas, what? Jesus.” Dean scrabbles uselessly against the wall, gasping when Cas sinks his teeth into the back of his neck hard enough to bruise. He grabs Dean’s hips and pushes him flush against the wall, grinding his bony hips against Dean’s ass.

“I asked you, Dean,” Cas starts, lips wet and full against Dean’s ear, voice pitched as a low growl, “if you’ve had Sam’s cock in you today. Did you let your brother fuck you?”

“Yeah, Cas, shit. Yes.” Dean’s panting now, leaking all over himself. He doesn’t know what the fuck’s gotten into Cas but he likes it, the sexually submissive part of his brain crying out with pleasure and need as he tries to push up onto his toes to squirm back against Cas’s cock. “A - a few hours ago, after we checked in.”

“How? Tell me.” Cas bites the soft, smooth spot behind Dean’s ear and he yelps, swallowing hard as Cas slides one hand up the center of his chest to grab his neck again, using the other to push Dean’s hips flush against the wall. “Tell me how he fucked you, Dean.”

“Shit, shit, alright.” Dean licks his lips, breathing hard enough to make the wall warm and moist under his cheek. If Cas wants a story, Dean’ll give him a goddamn story. “I blew him right up against the door, let him fuck my mouth so hard I was gagging on it, Cas, spit everywhere. Then before he came he got me on the bed, on my hands and knees and ate me out until I begged. He made me beg, Cas, made me ask nicely for him to put his cock in me. And I did, Cas, I begged so sweet until he finally stuffed me full.”

“You loved every second of it, Dean,” Cas admonishes, fingers tightening around his throat for a moment, squeezing hard enough to cut off his air before loosening up again to let him speak. “Keep going.”

“He pinned me down, which - ah shit - seems to be the theme today, huh Cas?” Dean squirms, and when he tries to reach back to touch Cas, his arm gets grabbed and twisted behind him, forearm pushed against the small of his back so tightly that he has to get up on his toes to relieve some of the strain. “Made me keep my shoulders on the bed and my ass in the air, fucked me so hard, Cas, I was screamin’ for it. Then when he came he made my stay there, ass up in the air like that, told me not to let his come leak out until he said so.”

“Such a good boy, Dean.” Cas bites the back of his neck again, tightens his grip on his throat. “So what you’re telling me is that you’re still slick and open, fucked loose on Sam’s dick?”

Dean tries to open his mouth but no sound comes out, not with Cas’s grip around his throat, so he merely nods. His eyes are shut and he’s squirming desperately back against Cas, trying to get any sort of friction. And then Cas lets go of his arm and Dean hears him spitting into his palm, groaning softly to himself. Dean lets out a loud, harsh cry as Cas grabs his hip and shoves his spit-slick dick into him with no warning at all, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt.

“Shit! Cas, fuck.” Dean’s eyes pop open and he whines, a cry bubbling up out of his throat before he can stop it. It burns, of course it does, but Dean revels in it. He is still fucked open, all slick from the mess of lube and come Sam left behind. Dean didn’t feel the need to shower yet, not when the night was so young, and now he’s glad for it. He squirms back on Cas’s dick, clenching down tight and swiveling his hips. “I don’t know what the fuck’s gotten into you but I hope it stays.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, just grins against the bite mark on the back of Dean’s neck and pulls out, only to slam back in hard enough to make Dean cry out and rock up onto his toes.

"That's right." Cas's voice is low and dark against Dean's nape, the gravel-grit of it resonating down his spine, and Dean can't help but bite his lip on a shudder. It's not like he was still in any doubt that Cas is a sexual being -- no angel should ever have been covered in Dean's come quite so many times -- but he's never seen Cas like this before, all growling possessiveness and strong, clever hands. Cas pulls his hips back, pulls out almost all the way, and it seems to go on forever, the long, frictive drag of him, before his fingers curl hard around the spurs of Dean's hips, wrench him back until his ass is flat to the pan of Cas's pelvis.

"Shit," Dean spits, and his hands go forward instinctively, scrabbling for some kind of support. Cas is smaller than both of them, if only incrementally. He's pliant enough when he wants to be, and it's easy to forget that he could overpower even Sam with one hand if he wanted to, with all the might of heaven behind him. Apparently, tonight, Cas doesn't want this to be forgotten. "Cas -- "

"You don't need to talk," Cas tells him, and something in Dean liquefies instantly, some low, animal part of him that soars under submission. God. Cas has him, is owning him entirely, most of Dean's weight thrust forward onto his toes and Cas is supporting him like he's nothing, as if he's something truly insignificant and small. Something Cas could take apart without even trying, and suddenly Dean wants nothing more than to let it happen. He tips his head forward, half-consciously granting Cas more access to the back of his neck, the vulnerable nape, and spreads his thighs wider in blatant invitation.

Not that Cas is waiting to be invited today. He's slamming in and out of Dean like a piston, angled just enough that every stroke sparks deep and hard against Dean's insides. His breath is coming hot against the nape of Dean's neck, and it's labored, but it isn't the tortured sound Dean's used to. Something about Cas, at this moment, is very together, all the disparate parts of him united by the force of his aggression, now expelling itself with every stroke of his hips. Dean is powerless before the onslaught, Cas working him back and forth on his cock, and shit, he likes it, never wants it to stop.

Except that it does stop, Cas pulling out so suddenly that Dean gasps with it, muscles clenching as he lets out a needy whine despite himself. He wants to question it, wants to protest, but Cas told him not to talk and some dirty, quivering part of himself wants to obey. And then Cas is gripping him by the hips and spinning him around, slamming him back up against the wall so hard that all the breath leaves his lungs like a punch.

Stay,” Cas growls, pinning him to the wall with only his fingertips against Dean’s chest, tips of them pressing in hard enough to bruise. Dean’s pinned to the wall by Cas’s fingertips, and that shouldn’t be such a turn on, but shit, it is. “You’d listen to any word I said when it comes to you spreading your legs for me, yet anywhere else you constantly question me.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that, assumes it’s rhetorical in any case, but he licks his lips when Cas’s eyes catch on his mouth. Cas moves so fast Dean nearly jumps, teeth scraping the corner of Dean’s mouth and sinking into the pliant swell of his lower lip. “You’re so infuriating, Dean.” The words are bitten out, soft and low against Dean’s cheek, and he swallows hard, shuddering a bit despite himself. “Don’t ever change.”

The words are so low that Dean almost doesn’t hear them, but they make his chest swell with something warm and gooey all the same. Cas presses a kiss to the bolt of Dean’s jaw, lips lingering for a moment before he ducks down. Dean swallows hard, resisting the urge to grab a fistful of Cas’s messy hair and pull, because that’s not allowed right now.

Cas’s hands are trailing across the pale skin of Dean’s inner thighs before he’s clutching the backs of his legs and lifting. Dean can’t help the gasp that tumbles from his lips when his feet leave the floor, shoulders sliding up the scratchy motel wallpaper. Cas keeps lifting until Dean’s legs slip, backs of his knees catching over Cas’s lean forearms. Cas is holding him up like he weighs nothing, not even showing any signs of exertion as he manhandles Dean into place.

And then Cas shoves back up into him, dragging Dean by the hips down onto his dick so hard that the slapping sound of it rings in Dean’s ears. He cries out and tosses his arms around Cas’s neck, bracing his weight on his shoulders as Cas keeps his grip firm on Dean’s hips, legs slung over Cas's arms and out of the way. Cas is staring at him, eyes electric blue and so intense that Dean can’t look away.

Sam’s fucked him like this a few times, pinioned against the wall, but it’s never lasted long. Sam’s strong but he’s not inhuman, and soon his arms would quiver and tense and Dean’s toes would eventually land on the floor again. But Cas - he is inhuman, and he can hold Dean up like this for as long as he pleases without so much as trembling.

Dean’s barely aware of the noises he’s making, just enough to know that he’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so goddamned turned on, sharp little gasps as Cas fucks up into him, so fast and so hard that Dean can barely do anything but take it. He’s bouncing on Cas’s cock, Cas's bony hips grinding against Dean’s ass with each powerful, steady thrust.

‘“Cas, Cas, Cas.” It’s a litany not unlike a prayer, nails digging grooves into Cas’s shoulders that’ll be gone by morning. He can’t catch a breath, can’t even close his eyes, and he hiccups out something like a sob when Castiel presses their foreheads together. Dean can’t do anything but drink the oxygen from his mouth, fingernails tearing the skin over the jutting curve of Cas’s shoulder blades as he gives himself over to Castiel entirely, trusting him to piece him back together once he’s done breaking him so thoroughly.

He's close. He can feel it building inside of him, pounding under his skin, something heavy and huge spurred on as much by Cas's intensity as by the way his dick feels splitting Dean open, slamming sparks out of him. He'd spare a moment to worry about the paper-thin wall behind him, the chance that there could be someone disgruntled on the other side of it, but with Cas like this, it's kind of hard to worry about that, especially since he doesn't think he could physically stop himself. Cas is fierce, fingers pressing bruise-deep into Dean's flesh as he thunders into him, and Cas may heal up where Dean's fingernails catch him but Dean's going to be marked by this in the morning, evidence of Cas's claim all over him.

"Fuck." It's hot, the thought of it alone, and Dean can't bite back the embarrassing sounds that escape him as Cas pulls back, swivels his hips and slams in deeper. It's, fuck, it feels impossible, the fat hot thrust of it spearing him open, impossible that Cas can get so deep inside of him that Dean can almost taste him in the back of his throat, but Cas is like a machine, powering into him relentlessly. He's not about to stop, isn't even losing rhythm the way he does when he's on the edge, and Dean usually tries to be a gentleman and wait, but, God, he doesn't think he's gonna manage that this time.

More than that, he doesn't think Cas wants him to, and this is all about what Cas wants. Dean knows there's something twisted up inside of him, but the thought makes him hot and shivery and strained, pinioned here like this on the end of Cas's dick, in the knowledge that he's here to serve Cas's pleasure. He's here for Cas to slam into, grind against; he's Cas's little fucktoy to cradle and use, and Cas is going to do it the way he wants to; is gonna make Dean come whether he's ready to or not.

"Shit," he whimpers into Cas's ear, head tipping back against the faded plaster as his hips cant forward, rhythm stuttering within the tiny space of self-government Cas has left to him. "Shit, Cas, I can't --" He's scrabbling at Cas's back, long twists of fingernails over the nape of Cas's neck, splitting the skin over the sweat-slick wings of his shoulder blades, and Cas is unwavering, muscles clenching under Dean's hands as he bites at Dean's throat and fucks.

"Cas," Dean moans, a last-ditch attempt at forestalling things before he's coming all over himself too soon and too hard. It's a sharp, splintery orgasm, wrenched right out of him, and Dean's muscles are pulled tight and close with it as he draws a breath, pulling himself together to let himself uncoil. And then Cas slams in deep and stills unexpectedly, working his hips in a slow grind that rubs up against Dean's prostate as he finds Dean's eyes again. Dean's cock, he notices with disbelief, is still hard against his stomach -- getting harder again with Cas's movements, if anything, instead of softening as it should --and he doesn't know if it's Cas's freaky angel powers or just Cas being awesome, but Jesus Christ, he doesn't fucking care.

"Dean." If possible, Cas's voice is even lower, now, whisky over broken glass. "Did I ask you to warn me when you were about to come?"

The word still sounds strange in Cas's mouth, come, but fuck, it's sexy, and Dean's belly dips hotly at the sound of it between them, the way Cas's lips look as they form the shape of it. He twists helplessly, but Cas has him pinned firmly, and the knowledge that he's caught here as surely as an animal in a trap only serves to bank the heat a little higher in the pit of his stomach, want pulsing out of him in a wet smear of precome. "Nnnn -- Cas --"

"Did I, Dean?" Cas pulls out a quarter of an inch, slams back in with a jolt, and Dean feels it resonate all through his body, waves of want shooting, electric, through his arms and legs, radiating out to his extremities. He wets his lips, watches the predatory way Cas's eyes follow the movement.

"No," he whispers, brief and obedient, and Cas nods a little, rocks his hips again.

"Good," he says, soft. "Don't."

Dean barely has time to take a breath before Cas is pulling out again, long hot drag of his cock almost to the tip, the fat head of it working a circle around Dean's rim before he shoves back in, and in, and in.

"Cas!" Dean gasps out, the word wrenched out of him raw and sharp, but it isn't a warning, now, and Cas seems to understand, his fingers tightening on Dean's skin as he speeds his thrusts, increases the friction. "Shit," Dean's murmuring, "shit, Cas, shit --" and he's half-blind with it, now, cock trapped and leaking between them, every rough jolt slamming through him in a wave of heat. "Cas, God," and he's coming for a second time on the back of a furious thrust, spine arching tensely as he bites his lip and shoots.

After that Dean just - fuck, he goes liquid. He’s like jelly, slumped against the wall, held off the ground by his legs hooked over Cas’s arms. They’re both damp with sweat, stinging sharply where Dean’s back is raw from the friction against the wall. Sounds still spill from his mouth, desperate little noises, hisses when Cas brushes his spent cock. Dean’s vaguely wondering just how long Cas can go on fucking him when the door swings open.

“Hey Dean, they were out of - holy shit.”

Dean manages to swing his head around to face his brother, clutching weakly at the nape of Cas’s neck. Sam’s mouth has fallen open, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. Some part of him thinks that he should be ashamed that Sam is seeing him like this, being used like this, but he isn’t. He’s proud of the dark look in his brother’s eyes, unfathomably pleased that Sam gets to see him covered in sweat and come, Castiel pounding up into him.

Cas grabs Dean’s hips and shoves up hard, burying himself in Dean’s ass with a slow grind. Dean stays pinned there, shoved up on Cas’s cock, tipping his head back with a whine when Cas’s hair brushes his chin as he turns to face the doorway. “Hello, Sam,” he says, voice so fucking rough, and Dean gasps sharply when Cas bounces him just once. He’s so sensitive that every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire, thighs trembling, legs useless. He knows that if Cas put him down right now, he would crumble. But then Cas is pulling an arm away, holding a hand out towards Sam, and Dean wraps one leg around Cas’s hip to keep from slipping. That’s one arm Cas is holding him up with now, and Dean’s dick twitches unbelievably.

Cas flicks his fingers and the door slams shut behind Sam, six pack dropped to the floor and forgotten. Another twist of his wrist and Sam is naked, gloriously bare from head to toe, and Dean moans low in his throat. Sam looks down at himself and then up at Cas again, chest heaving as a flush works its way down Sam’s beautiful neck.

“Took you long enough,” Cas says, crooking his fingers. Sam stumbles forward and he doesn’t know if that’s Cas’s powers or Sam’s eagerness, and Dean bites his lip when Cas curls an arm around Sam and presses a harsh kiss to his mouth. “Dean’s come twice so far, Sam, just since you’ve been gone, and I haven’t even touched his cock. He’s been so good for me.”

Jesus.” Sam moans and presses a hand to Cas’s sweaty chest. Dean’s eyes fall shut and there’s a tug low in his belly, the room spinning dizzily, and suddenly they’re all on the middle of the bed. Dean’s on his back, sheets cool and soft against his skin, and Cas is hooking one of Dean’s legs over his shoulder and fucking into him so hard that tears well up in his eyes. Sam holds him by the shoulders, keeps him in place so Cas doesn’t lose his rhythm, and Dean whines deep in his throat.

“Cas, please,” is all he can manage, and Cas makes a low, soothing noise and presses his fingers to Dean’s kiss-smudged lips.

"He's been so good." Cas repeats the words almost contemplatively, and Dean watches from under half-lowered lids as Cas turns to Sam, holding his eyes as he fucks into Dean. Talking about him as if he isn't even there, but, God, it's reached the point where he almost feels as if he isn't, his mind gone loose and detached and spent. He can still feel the drag of it, though, where Cas is shoving into him, working his prostate in ways that are too good to take right now.

"So good," Cas says, and Dean closes his eyes, finally, arching his body weakly away. "Do you think we should take pity on him, Sam?" Cas's fingers trace the curve of Dean's cheekbone, the line of his jaw, the sweaty column of his throat. "He looks so beautiful when he's getting fucked."

Dean bites his lip against the weak surge of want that pulses through him, incredible, almost painful. "Sam," he protests, not even knowing what he's asking for, but Sam will know. Sam laughs, soft and gentle and warm, and then his big hand is flat on Dean's cheek, cradling, and Dean is impossibly safe between them. Sam will know exactly what Dean needs.

"I think," Sam says, "he's been good for long enough, Cas." A pause, and then Dean hears a wet sound, skin on skin, and wonders where Sam's putting his mouth. Not on Cas's lips, but perhaps on his jaw, the tendon in his neck. "Maybe if you let him get his breath back, we can both do him later." A shuffle of sheets, and Sam's voice is suddenly closer, breath quickening in the back of his throat. "Stuff him full, make him take both of us at once. Know how he likes that, Cas. Know how you like that."

"Sam." That's Cas, now, the low growl unmistakable, and then, unexpectedly, he's pulling out, unsheathing himself and slipping out of Dean's slack grasp in a single, sudden movement. "I can't --" He makes an abortive sound, and then Sam's shushing again, low noises of encouragement. Dean takes a deep, slow breath and opens his eyes to the sight of Sam's hand wrapping around Cas's cock, jacking it loosely, root to tip.

"I know," Sam says, soft and sure, and there's a steadiness to him that makes Dean's chest pull tight with something between pride and lust. "We have plenty of time, Cas. I think we can pass it somehow."

Dean's pretty sure he knows what Sam's offering before he does it, but he still can't help the way his breath hitches when Sam sinks back onto his elbows on the bed, legs deliberately loose at the thigh, eyes on Cas's as he lifts his hips. "God, Sam," Dean murmurs, involuntary, and Sam spares him a glance, a warm flicker of his eyes, before he's looking Cas full in the face again, one arm tentatively outstretched.



They're neither of them prepared, Dean can see in Sam's face, for the way Cas launches himself into the cradle of Sam's stupidly long limbs, kicking his thighs apart so he can settle between them, lean up and bite at his mouth. It's rough, feral and fierce and deliberate, and Dean can tell by the way Cas moves that, whatever Sam meant this to be when he offered it, Cas is not about to let himself be led. Cas is shoving at Sam's thighs with his palms, pushing his knees back effortlessly towards his chest, and Sam makes a hot little sound of surprise in his throat as Cas shoulders in still closer, gripping Sam's waist to pull him down until Sam's legs are practically fucking wrapped around Cas's neck.

"Jesus," Sam whimpers, soft and taken aback and so fucking turned on. "Cas --"

"No," Cas tells him, and then his hand is disappearing between Sam's legs, fingers seeking out the clench of his hole. Sam arches up, and Cas presses harder, the muscles shifting in his forearm as he works. "No, Sam. We're going to do this my way."

Sam only nods, back arching up from the bed in a sinuous curve, arms spread out at his sides as he offers himself up. Dean’s breathing hard, fucked out and sated, but he rolls onto his side to get a better view. This, he can’t miss. Sam’s mouth falls open when Cas slides his middle finger into his ass, nothing but sweat and Dean’s come to slick the way. His brows are furrowed in something like concentration, toes clenching from their place up in the air.

“When was the last time you let Dean fuck you, Sam?” Castiel seems to have calmed a bit, not as crazed now that he has Sam pinned down under him, offering himself up. He even pushes Sam’s sweaty hair away from his forehead with his free hand, staring down at him intently. Sam swallows hard, doesn’t say anything, and Cas does something with his finger that makes Sam whimper. “Tell me.”

“Couple of weeks ago,” Sam finally says, eyes dragging open to meet Cas’s intent gaze. Dean reaches a hand out, tangles his fingers with his brother’s for a point of contact. “I wanted to feel it.”

“I bet you look beautiful with Dean inside you,” Cas says, low and thoughtful. Dean sees his forearm working, Sam rocking his hips incrementally against Cas’s finger. Cas presses his lips to Sam’s ear, eyes flicking over at Dean as he speaks. “There’s something I never told you two.”

“What is it, Cas?” Dean asks, scooting closer to their entwined bodies. Cas actually smirks, tongue peeking out and flicking along Sam’s earlobe.

“You see, I’ve been curious. So I took a little trip.” Cas bites down on Sam’s earlobe, soothes the sting with his tongue. “To March 13th, 1998.”

The date stirs something in Dean and he furrows his brow, trying to remember the significance. It’s only when Sam lets out a disbelieving moan that it hits Dean. That’s the day he fucked his little brother for the first time. “Cas,” Dean groans, dick twitching against his thigh, trying valiantly to get hard again

“Cas, you- you-” Sam’s rough voice trails off into a groan and he rocks his hips again, the hand that’s not clutching Dean’s pressing into Cas’s hip.

“Ever since that first night we had together, I just had to see it,” Cas confesses, pulling back to kiss Sam on the mouth. “I found you two in Indiana, and I watched you, Sam. I watched you beg for your brother’s cock.”

Sam’s clutching Dean’s hand hard enough to bruise, and Dean scoots closer, eyes locked on his brother and his angel, their lips shiny with each other’s spit. “Watched you, Dean. Watched you lay your skinny little brother out on the bed you shared, push him down on his belly and put your mouth on his ass. Saw how much you loved it.”

Sometimes Dean thinks that somewhere along the line, a heady combination of Sam and Castiel utterly destroyed his ability to feel shame. Instead of being embarrassed, shocked, he just feels incredibly turned on. The thought of Castiel seeing that, their most private moment, makes Dean’s belly jump pleasantly, makes him warm inside.

“You were so beautiful, Sam, the way you took it. The way you opened up for him.” Sam moans, a deep, needy sound that reverberates up from his chest and makes Dean shake. Cas has two fingers in him now, twisting slickly in the pink grip of his brother’s ass. “I committed every thrust of Dean’s hips to memory, the way he broke you so wonderfully. You remember the way he moved, don’t you, Sam?”

“Nothing had ever felt as good as he did inside me,” Sam confesses, turning his head to the side to catch Dean’s gaze. He can’t help himself, pushing forward to press his mouth to Sam’s. Cas’s hand lands softly on his cheek, thumbing at his jaw.

“Until now,” Cas says, breath hot against their mouths. “I’m going to fuck you, Sam. I’m going to fuck you just like your big brother did all those years ago.”

Dean’s too busy mouthing at Sam’s jaw to notice what’s going on between his legs, and it’s not until Sam lets out a low, needy cry that he looks up. Cas is pushing into Dean’s little brother, short little jabs of his hips until Sam relaxes enough to let him in. Dean knows how tight Sam is, the greedy grip of him, and there’s no mistaking the pure bliss on Cas’s face as he slides home with a soft groan.

"God, Cas." Dean can't help the reflexive tightening of his fingers on Sam's, the words slipping out of him almost reverently at the sight of it. He's seen Sam like this, of course; seen his face go slack and wanting as he cants his hips up to meet Dean's, but he's never seen him like this, with his own head unclouded by impending orgasm, the long lines of his brother's body writhing under somebody else's. Dean's no stranger to being fucked -- wasn't even before Sam pushed into him for the first time -- but he was Sam's first crush, first kiss, first fuck, and there have been a lot of people in between, but right now, Cas is going somewhere only Dean has gone. Sam's never been fucked like this, by someone other than his brother, and the sight of him giving himself up to Cas's grace is intoxicating.

It isn't only the sight of Sam like this that's new, either. From here, Dean can see every twist of Cas's hips, the way his muscles bunch and pull as he snaps his pelvis against Sam's, the sound of it sticky and human and fierce. He can watch the way Cas's body arches, the way his shoulders strain, shifting against the long muscles in Sam's calves; the way he bites at his lower lip as he fucks into Sam. It's practiced, for all its urgency, Cas's thrusts finding all the right places inside Sam, and he's learned that from Dean, too, all of this stemming from Dean's touch and Dean's mouth and Dean's dick. It makes his belly swoop hot with want, cock jerking as it starts to fill again, even before Cas looks over at him, reaches out a hand. "Dean."

"Fuck, you look good." Dean's rubbing his mouth along the curve of Sam's jaw, the swell of his lower lip where it's open on a gasp, but he moves now, tangling a hand in Cas's hair and leaning up to press a kiss to his throat. "Look so fucking good in my brother, Cas. You like that? Like the way he takes it?"

"Shit." Sam's eyes are pinched shut, the look on his face almost like pain, but Dean knows better. The deep flush all down Sam's neck and chest is an obvious indication of just how turned on he is right now, just how into this, and the knowledge only spikes Dean's arousal up a notch. He scrapes his teeth over the straining tendon in Cas's neck, suddenly breathless.

"Taught him everything he knows, Cas. You saw, didn't you? Sammy opening up for me, letting me in. Only me." He bites at Cas's neck, licks over it after as if for emphasis, and relishes the sound Cas makes in his throat, the way his thrusts pick up in speed. "And you, now. Fuck, Cas, he's ours, you know that? Aren't you, Sam?" And he pulls away, unable to resist leaning down again to press his mouth to Sam's, curl his tongue against his brother's. "Ours, aren't you, baby?"

"Oh, fuck, Dean." Sam's back arches, giving Dean all the answer he needs, and then Cas's hand is warm on the back of Dean's neck, holding him in place.

"You are both mine," he says, unexpected and dark and sure. Dean feels the heat of it crawl over him like a burn. "You are mine. My souls, my --" Cas's voice breaks on a forward stutter of his hips, and Dean soothes him with a sweep of his palm down Cas's flank, collecting sweat.

"Yeah, Cas," he agrees, low and gentle. "Yeah, we are. Anything you need, okay? Anything."

"I just," Cas wrenches out, but the rest of the sentence is lost in a low groan as he grinds his hips against the swell of Sam's ass, balls pressed tight and flush against skin. He's falling apart, finally, Dean can tell, this Cas a far cry from the commanding figure who had entered the room and taken Dean in hand, pushed him flat against the wall. Dean wants, with a sudden ferocity, to see him shatter, electricity bursting out of him like the shadows of his wings as he arches his back, braces his hands and comes. He wants to see Cas break open, wants to see him fill Sam so dirty-sticky full so Dean can lick it back out of him. Fuck. His cock is fully hard again now, straining against his stomach, and Sam is keening, head thrown back so the top is flush to the mattress, taking every juddering thrust of Cas's hips. They're a vision of sin, better than the best porn Dean's ever seen, and he'd never want it to stop if he didn't want so viscerally to watch Cas go supernova.

“That’s m’boy, Sammy. Feels so good, doesn’t it, baby? Just look at you, taking all of me so sweet.”

Dean and Sam both groan because those are Dean’s words coming out of Cas’s mouth, drawled out long and slow. It’s what Dean said to his brother the first time he fucked him, told him over and over how sweet he was, how good he felt. And now it’s Cas saying them, low and dirty and private, a scintillating echo of their damaged youth.

“Harder, I can take it,” Sam murmurs softly. His eyes are closed, pink mouth slack and open. Jesus, Sam remembers everything from that night, down to how he begged, how eager he was for it, squirming on his big brother’s dick. “C’mon, I can take it.”

“Know you can, Sammy,” Cas soothes, Dean’s words in his rough voice, leaning in to cup Sam’s cheek just as Dean did back then, thumbing away the tears in his eyes. Sam nuzzles into Cas’s palm, sucking his thumb into his mouth and biting down gently. Cas’s thrusts get harder but more erratic, soft little gasps falling from his lips.

“Gonna come on Cas’s dick, baby?” Dean licks at the corner of Sam’s mouth, rolling the sweat-salt taste of him on his tongue. “Don’t even need us to touch you, do you? Gonna come all over yourself. Remember how much you came that first time? Pools of it all over your little belly.”

“Do it, Sam.” And that’s all Cas, rough and commanding, tilting Sam’s hips up and slamming in just right. Sam makes a wild noise, eyes big and wide on Dean's before they slam shut and he lets out another cry. Dean’s eyes go to Sam’s dick, so big and wet against his stomach, watching it fatten impossibly as Sam’s orgasm rips through him so intensely it’s like Dean can feel it too, like it fills up the whole goddamn room. Dean watches Sam’s pretty dick blurt out all that come, striping his belly and chest, a few drops even landing on his neck. Dean licks those away, humming contentedly at the familiar taste of his brother.

“So beautiful, Sam," Cas says, words edged dark, dissolving. "Going to fill you up, mark you mine.”

Please.” Sam’s voice is fucked raw, a low pleading growl, and Cas shoves in deep, pinning Sam’s knees damn near to his shoulders, growling harshly against his mouth. Dean puts a soothing hand on the back of Cas’s neck, his own hips jerking as Cas howls, pumping Sam full of his come. Cas always comes hard, filling Dean so full of jizz that it leaks out of him in a sticky-warm mess, dirtying up his thighs, and now Dean gets to see it first hand, watch his brother’s puffy, fucked-open hole clench down around the emptiness Cas leaves behind.

It's a few seconds before Cas pulls out, his boundless energy apparently atomized by his orgasm, and when he moves, it's slow and shaking, cock slipping wetly from the clench of Sam's body.

"Christ," Dean murmurs weakly, eyes fixed on the glistening mess Cas has left him, the slick sheen of come leaking out of Sam's hole and down onto his thighs. And it is for Dean, they both know that, Cas fallen back onto his elbows in a boneless heap as Dean pulls himself up onto his knees, smooths his hands down the outsides of Sam's legs.

"Dean," Sam manages, faint and thready, hand outstretched blindly in Dean's direction. Dean takes a moment to squeeze Sam's fingers, but his mind is on other things, pulse pounding hot in his dick at the thought of Cas's come rolling over his tongue, swallowed back into himself. They've shared Cas's taste between themselves before, and Dean doesn't want to kiss Sam now until the three of them are in it together, Dean's mouth sour with Cas's jizz, ready for Sam to lick it out.

The angle's awkward, and the muscles in Sam's long thighs are trembling with exertion from having held the same position for so long, but Dean can't wait, wants this now. He holds Cas's eyes for a long, dark second before he's leaning down vertically over the sprawl of Sam's body, chest to Sam's stomach, knees somewhere up by his shoulders as he licks at the cut of Sam's pelvis, noses down further. His own dick is hard and straining against his stomach, and he rocks his hips in a jagged little pulse against the air, hoping Sam will pull himself together long enough to take the fucking hint already.

Thankfully, Sam's known Dean carnally for long enough that all his subtle cues are obvious requests to him, and Dean smiles to himself as Sam's hands come up to take him by the hips, lifting him easily. Sam's arms are still shaking faintly from his orgasm, but Sam is strong, and he only came once, after all. Dean can hardly believe he's ready to go a third time, at his age, but Sam's all for it, rearranging Dean until he's straddling Sam's shoulders, the head of his cock smearing slick against Sam's chin.

"God, Sam," he murmurs; rubs his face over Sam's balls, and the angle is easier like this, the two of them slotted together like two pieces of the same perverted jigsaw. Sam's tongue licks a broad stripe over the head of Dean's cock, curls around it in a sinuous twist, and Dean can't help but fuck down against the touch as he nuzzles deeper, hefting Sam's hips until the cup of his pelvis is upturned and ready.

"Do it," Sam tells him, wet and indistinct around the head of Dean's cock, and Dean feels the vibration shudder through him like a riptide, Sam's fucked-out voice against his dick. In this position, everything is Sam, the musky-dark scent of him, all sweat and sex, and Dean dips his head lower in blind obedience, smearing Cas's come across Sam's perineum with his tongue. Sam's hips twitch, and his mouth does something clever and deft before he pulls off again, takes a breath. "Dean. Do it. Lick me. Eat me out." He rolls his hips in a sinful figure-eight of want, and Dean feels a whimper trip out of him unbidden. "Know you love it. Wanna taste it. Cas, and you, and me."

"Shit, Sam." Dean's a goddamn Casanova when he wants to be, but he's not made of stone, and there's no man on earth that could resist the way Sam sounds when he gets like this, lazy and sated and speaking to every fucked-up kink Dean has.

There’s not an ounce of shame left in Dean’s body to keep him from working his face right up against Sam’s fucked-open hole, Cas’s jizz slicking up his chin as he laps up the flavor. He presses his chin down against Sam’s perineum, grinding down in a slow drag of stubble against wet, sensitive skin. Sam moans, garbled around Dean’s cock, and Dean grins filthily even as he pulls Sam open with his thumbs, eyes on Cas as he licks him clean.

“You’re mine,” Cas says again, softer but still sure, reaching out to cup Dean’s cheek. Dean keeps his eyes on Cas, holding his gaze as he fucks Sam’s ass with his tongue, hips rolling down to shove his cock down Sam’s throat, and Cas sighs. “The two of you are so beautiful like this.”

Dean lifts his head up at that, neck straining forward hopefully, and he lets out a pleased hum when Cas takes the hint and leans in for a kiss. It’s soft, a stark contrast to their earlier kisses. It’s almost sweet, and with Cas's come and Sam’s slicking the way, it’s even sweeter. Cas sucks Dean’s bottom lip clean and then puts a hand on the back of his head, pushing him back down to finish what he started, but Sam’s blowing him in earnest now, finally getting his breath back after his orgasm. He’s got Dean tight by the hips, taking his cock clear down his throat and sucking so fucking good that Dean can do little more than pant against his ass, chest slick with the wet mess on Sam’s stomach. “Yeah, Sammy, that’s it.” He tongues at the groove of Sam’s ass cheek and thigh, biting down as his belly tenses. And then Sam’s hand is moving and he’s slipping two fingers into Dean’s sore, wet little hole, crooking up expertly and rubbing insistently against his prostate.

That’s fucking it, and Dean’s clutching at Sam’s thighs as he comes right down his throat. It can’t be too much, given how many fucking times he’s shot off today, but Sam still hums happily. He’s still sucking, slow and sweet, almost lazy, and Dean has to pull off when he gets too sensitive. In a move that’s pretty damn impressive, given the state of him, Dean turns himself around and flops down on top of Sam, taking his cheeks in his hands and kissing him deep, working Sam's mouth open dirty-wide with his tongue.

“Cas,” Sam mumbles against Dean’s lips, eyes closed and face slack, relaxed with pleasure and exhaustion even as he slings an arm around Dean’s shoulders. “C’mere, angel.”

Rightly, Cas shouldn't be remotely tired, and after an evening of his angel powers being front and center and on display, Dean smiles a little at the sleepy sight of him. Cas is superhuman, capable of holding a man Dean's size in his arms for indefinite periods of time without flagging, capable of fucking without coming for an hour, and he shouldn't be tired now that everything's over. But then, Cas does a lot of things angels aren't supposed to do, always has done. Gets too close to his charges. Rebels for them. Helps them avert the apocalypse and save the world. Dean thinks he can cut the guy a little slack if he wants to pass out now, all loose-limbed and slow; and besides, he'd never say it out loud, but it's kind of nice to feel Cas curled against him after sex. Not, like, in a snuggle, but being part of a macho kind of body pile is something every guy is entitled to, once in a while.

So he says, "Yeah, Cas," and stretches out a hand across the bed. "C'mere."

There's something stupidly endearing about the way Cas moves when he's like this, fucked out and exhausted, his expression part gratitude, part reluctance. He shifts up the bed on his knees, and Dean curls his fingers into the mussed softness of Cas's hair the moment he gets close enough, tugging him down.

"Dean," Cas says, his voice hesitant, and that's just hilarious after the way he's behaved tonight, that Cas is shy, now that he's fucked every damn thing he wanted out of both their asses. Except that he didn't get everything he wanted, that much is obvious from the look on his face. He just wants them, wants to be part of them, and right now, Dean wants that more than anything. From the way Sam's hand cradles the curve of Cas's jaw, skates around to pull him in by the wing of his shoulder blade, Dean's not the only one

For three such sizeable men, they fit together pretty easily, squirming around until their legs and arms find natural positions to tangle in. Cas, as Dean intended, ends up in the middle, Sam's broad chest forming a cradle for his back, one of Cas's knees caught between both of Dean's. He must be tired, Dean thinks, because there's still come oozing sluggishly out of him, stripes of it drying on his stomach. He takes Cas's hand, smiles at him gently, and places it low down on his own abdomen. "Hey," he says, "feeling lazy today, Clarence? I know you're sleepy, but come on."

The corner of Cas's mouth quirks up in a smile, an honest-to-God smile, and he squirms back a little against Sam as he closes his eyes, once, and rids them of their sweat and come in the space of a blink. "Angels don't sleep, Dean," he says, but his voice is low and warm, intimate as a caress.

Behind him, Sam makes a grumbling sound and nuzzles his face into the back of Cas's neck. "Try," he says, curt and pointed, and Dean has to laugh, hand finding Sam's over the breadth of Cas's body pressed between them. Where he belongs.

Dean’s sore but satisfied, tense muscles relaxing against the blissfully comfortable mattress, and his eyelids flutter sleepily. Cas is still looking placidly forward, body a little too stiff for Dean’s liking.

“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning in to butt his forehead against Cas’s chin because he doesn’t want to let go of Sam’s hand. All his claims of macho manliness can go to hell right now for all he cares, for how comfortable he is. If he could just get Cas to relax. “Shh, Cas, we’ve got you.” Dean meets Cas’s eyes, his tired, cautious gaze, and kisses the swell of his lower lip. Sam’s snuffling at the nape of Cas’s neck, already halfway to sleep, fingers still tangled with Dean’s on Cas’s hip. Dean’s fighting the sandman off himself, but he can’t let go, not just yet. “Whatever’s goin’ on up there,” Dean starts, gesturing vaguely towards the ceiling with a flick of his eyes, “turn if off for the night. Just be Cas, yeah?” He’s mumbling now, eyes trying to slip shut of their own accord, and Cas’s face goes soft and fond just before Dean’s vision gets blurry.

“‘s all we need, Cas. Just you.” Dean hums, pleased, when Cas seems to deflate, body relaxing between his and Sam’s easily. Cas dips his head to kiss Dean’s mouth, soft and chaste, and Dean has just enough energy left to kiss him back.

The last thing Dean’s aware of is Cas’s hand resting on top of his and Sam’s tangled fingers, thumb traveling softly across their knuckles. Cas isn't asleep yet, but his movements are slowing, his body loose between theirs, and he will be. Angel or not, Dean's sure of it, as far as he can be sure of anything with consciousness slipping out of reach.

They don't get much time to themselves, living the way they do. There isn't much space between hunts to unwind, time for stargazing and football games way too short, and often, Dean feels the stress of it. Now, though, curled up with his angel and his brother, most of the way to sleep in a beat-up motel in rural Ohio, he can hardly remember how it feels to be tense. Now, there's only the soft sound of their breathing working in tandem, the distant noise of traffic on the highway beyond the window. Things may be falling apart outside, but Dean's got more than enough to keep him happy right here -- more than he ever expected to get. Cas shifts a little, murmurs softly against Dean's mouth, and it isn't a word, but it's a promise all the same, contented and drowsy and gentle. It's enough.

Tags: dean/sam/castiel, fic, supernatural

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