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Something to Suck

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Sweat drips down the back of Sam’s neck as he tries to concentrate on his laptop screen, toes tangled in the laptop’s charger cable. He’s looking for another case, as they’ve just lucked out on on on the outskirts of Phoenix—the hot weather having more to do with the apocalypse than the coven of witches they’d been hoping for. Not that Dean had been hoping for witches, he still hates witches, but even Dean could do with a break from not thinking about the end times.

So Dean’s keen to get back on the road and Cas is too, his search for God not going so well. This means Sam’s trying to find their next case, but he just can’t dig up anything beyond the apocalypse as his fingers fly over his keyboard, digging up signs and omens all over the place. The only sounds in the room are Sam’s typing; the crappiest AC unit to ever breathe (barring the one that almost killed him that one time), and the TV playing some random episode of Dr. Sexy that Dean had left on while heading out on a beer and popsicle run.

The heat and memories of Carthage are making it tough for Sam to focus. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Sam gives up and closes the laptop lid, letting out a long sigh. He peels himself off of the plastic chair he’s become stuck to, and walks past Cas who is engrossed in watching Dr. Sexy. Sam can’t help noticing that even Cas isn’t wearing his usual trench coat or jacket, that his shirt sleeves are pulled up. It really is just so hot that Cas looks like he’d rather use traditional human means to keep cool than waste grace.

Bending down in front of the room’s small refrigerator, Sam opens it up and ferrets around inside the icebox and finds the last popsicle. Standing up, cargo shorts heavy around his waist—the belt cinched that touch tighter than it had been the last time he’d worn them—Sam unwraps his bright red popsicle and starts sucking on the tip of it as he kicks the door shut. He throws the wrapper in the trash and sits down on his bed while Cas remains on Dean’s.

It’s too hot to focus on the television so Sam just licks and sucks at the sweet red ice on a stick, the melting cherry flavored liquid trying to drip onto his hand. Distantly he’s aware that maybe he is making a lot of noise as he tries to suck on the popsicle, but he just can’t bring himself to care.

The bed shifts beside Sam and suddenly Castiel is sat down beside him, staring at him with a confused yet intense look.

“Why must you be so noisy?” Cas asks Sam, gaze flicking between Sam’s eyes and the popsicle poised by his mouth. The angel’s cheeks are flushed and Sam can’t ignore just how close Cas is sat to him, Dean’s past lessons on personal space seeming to have gone out the window.

Looking from the popsicle in his hand to Castiel’s eyes and mouth, Sam swallows hard. He’s never been able to quite ignore just how handsome Castiel’s vessel is, but Sam’s always maintained a safe distance, kept things strictly friends. Though there have been nights where he’s ached to find out how Cas feels or tastes.

Flicking his tongue out over the red tip of the popsicle, Sam watches Cas track the movement. “I’m sorry, Cas, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Sam says innocently, like he’s not aware of the growing effect he’s having on Cas.

Without even asking, Cas leans in and licks the popsicle between them, eyes on Sam the entire time. Sam gulps, and hopes he’s reading the situation right as he leans in and licks the opposite side of the popsicle, catching the drips that are threatening to coat his hand. He keeps his eyes on Cas as he licks up the popsicle’s length, and Cas starts to lick the top again. Sam reaches the tip and his tongue glances over Castiel’s.

A shiver runs through Cas. Before Sam can think he’s misstepped, Castiel’s tongue chases after his and the popsicle hits the motel room floor. The angel tastes of cherry and thunderstorms, a million summers and eternity. Mouths hungry and wet, they kiss long and hard. Sam clambers up onto Castiel’s lap and straddles him, hands on Castiel’s face.

The two of them rub against each other, bed springs creaking under them. Sam can feel Castiel’s hardness beneath him as his own rubs against Castiel’s stomach. Body hungering for more, Sam kisses along Castiel’s jaw then reaches Cas’s pulse point where he sucks and nips making Cas shudder and moan.

Just as Sam undoes Castiel’s tie and throws it down on the bed, the door to the motel room creaks open and Sam is suddenly aware of being watched. He knows it’s Dean, but Dean doesn’t say or do anything more than shut the door. Tilting his head just so, Sam catches Dean’s lust filled gaze. A blush rises up on Dean’s cheeks and Sam decides what he’s going to do.

“Cas, Dean’s back,” Sam says only just above a whisper.

The angel’s gaze suddenly snaps to where Sam’s looking and the two of them stare at Dean. Crawling off of Cas, Sam walks over to Dean, Sam’s shorts visibly tented in front of him. Maybe it’s a combination of the heat, memories of Carthage or the Devil breathing down his neck, but Sam chooses this moment to kiss Dean and it is anything but brotherly. That kiss contains everything Sam has always wanted to tell Dean, the secret he’s carried around in his heart for so long. Dean kisses back with equal enthusiasm.

There’s a whimper from behind Sam and he breaks away from Dean, feet light as he stalks back to Cas. Sam works quickly to drag Castiel’s shoes off, and then slips his pants off, boxers coming off with, revealing Castiel’s throbbing, leaking cock. Catching Dean’s gaze again, Sam kneels between Castiel’s legs and then looks up at the angel.

“Cas, wanna taste you?” asks Sam.

The angel manages a nod and then Sam sinks his mouth down over Castiel’s cock, eyes fluttering close as he takes Cas deep, hitting the back of his throat. Tears spike Sam’s eyes, but he happily bobs on Castiel’s length. Sweat slides down Sam’s back, but he doesn’t care now—attention singularly on the task he’s set himself. He doesn’t care that he’s feeling warmer than he did ten minutes ago, because the salty tang of Cas on his tongue is making a different heat pool low in his belly.

Hands sink into Sam’s hair and he glances up a little to see both Dean and Cas reaching out to him. Smiling around Castiel’s cock, Sam lets Cas and Dean control his movements as he bobs up and down on Castiel’s length. Two hands pulling at his hair as his mouth caresses an angel in ways he’d only ever imagined. He wants to touch himself, but instead he focuses on Cas, tongue pressing and licking under Castiel’s head on each upward movement. Above Sam, Castiel pants and he can also hear his brother’s hand working inside his own jeans.

Cargo pants catching against his own leaking cock just so, Sam shudders and moans, almost coming from that as Cas continues to break apart. He can hear whispered Enochian, a prayer of some sort from above him. Dean’s breath comes faster and faster too, as Sam feels Cas starting to tense. Without any other warning, Cas spills down Sam’s throat, hot and thick. Sam keeps sucking until Cas is finished and then he pulls off the angel, pushing the hands out of his hair.

“Stay,” Sam orders Cas, not that the blissed out angel looks like he’s going to move from the bed.

Sam gets to his feet and pulls his cargo shorts and underwear off, and advances on Dean, pulling his brother’s cock out as he pushes him against a wall.

“Christ, Sam,” Dean whimpers. He’s cut off from saying anything else as Sam brings their mouths together again. Taking the two of them in hand, Sam smears their pre-come along their dicks and starts to stroke.

Dean shoves his tongue into Sam’s mouth and Sam has never been so happy for hot sweaty motel rooms as Dean fucks his tongue into Sam’s mouth and tastes Cas. Their hips shudder as Sam’s hand works them over. It takes only a half dozen pulls of Sam’s fist until the two of them are shouting into each other’s mouths, orgasms shaking through them. Sam’s legs give out and Dean has to hold him up.

Come cooling on their stomachs, Dean leads them over to Cas and they collapse beside the angel in a hot sweaty, sticky mess.

“What the hell was that?” Dean pants out.

Sam huffs a laugh and tangles his hand with Castiel’s. “I had been trying to eat a popsicle.”

“Crap, the popsicles!” Dean bolts from the bed, half-naked, and rushes over to the forgotten beers and popsicles.