Sam didn't exactly sprint to the dungeon.
He also didn't exactly walk.
Somewhere in the maze of his memories, Sam heard a pretty actress with a perm and a popped collar murmur "long cruise, sailor?" And it had been. A three-day haul to Washington state, another three days on the case, and a pick-up hunt outside Omaha on the way back.
As the old country song went: he'd left something turned on at home.
Castiel drove at everything with a singleminded sense of purpose - fights, research, or turning on a lonely Winchester three time zones away. The waiting silence was almost worse (and better) than the pointed texts. Sam kept a heavy book on his lap for more reasons than reading on the way home.
He knew Castiel waited for him at the end of the hall. In his mind, he'd been down that hallway so many times, Sam could hear his own footsteps in his dreams. He knew how his bootheels sounded on the tile; knew the hollow thunder of the steps and faint but evergreen smell of smoke in the hallway. Somehow though, his daydreams never got past the door. Like even the dungeon in his head could keep him out.
The locks pinged as Sam reached for the door, and the heavy shelves protecting the dungeon swung outward. He couldn't quite smooth away the stunned expression as reality filled his fantasies in with vibrant color.
At the back of the room, separated from Sam by the white lines of the Devil's Trap, Castiel perched in the middle of a long metal table. One leg crossed over the other, fingers curled around the edge of the tabletop. He could have been one of Sam's college professors. The thought startled a warm surge of arousal, adding to the pressure building below his belt. He could say with honesty, however; none of his college professors were quite this hot.
Or this naked.
Castiel's warding tattoo was a black lace of Enochian on the exposed skin of his ribs. Sam pressed his palm to it as soon as he was within touching distance; a frisson of power made the hair stand up on his arms. Castiel followed his hand as it landed, then let his gaze take a slow tour north. When their eyes met, he lifted one hand and made a gentle summoning gesture.
The door snicked shut.
"Hello, Sam," Castiel said. Head cocked, smile on low simmer, Castiel spun the line of insouciant Top Gun dialog out of Sam's head and into flesh and bone. Long cruise? Castiel didn't have to ask, he knew. He'd been right there with Sam, riding the airwaves beside him in the heated middle-of-the-night texts. Sam cupped the back of his head, dragging him into a kiss that was hello and missed you and turned real damn quick into want-you-now. He kneaded the tattoo on Castiel's flank; let his fingers roam down cool skin to hip and thigh and knee where it crossed the other.
His fingers fitted into the soft bend, warm where it had been protected from the table. He lifted and felt Castiel help him; watched his knees part until there was room for Sam between Castiel's thighs.
The table, he noticed, was hip height. His in particular.
One arm tossed around Sam's neck, Castiel tugged Sam in. He licked into Sam's mouth in slow waves; traced patterns beneath his hair at the nape of his neck with soft fingertips. Like the tattoo on Castiel's side, Sam felt the tightly controlled power. He slid between wanting to ride it and wanting to drown, aware that the angel wrapped around him could - would - give him both, but for the asking.
The chill rattle of metal links brought Sam into focus again, and he looked left at the roll of muscles in Castiel's shoulder. He held two sets of handcuffs aloft; one steel; one gold. Enochian sigils glinted in the warm yellow metal.
"Your pick," Castiel said, dry voice burnished with desire, "I tried, but I have to admit—it's your trust that's arousing. Either way, I have that."
Sam swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. He shook his head, not fighting the wondering smile. "Yeah. Me too, Cas."
There was a pause, full of possibilities and promise, which neither of them—in spite of weeks of anticipation—seemed in any hurry to break.
"This leaves us at something of an impasse," Castiel said at last.
So Sam closed his eyes, licked his lips, and reached.