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The Stray

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“So then Charlie puts her beer down, throws up a shocker and goes 'that's what she said.'” Dean snorts and shakes his head, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and waiting for Sam to laugh.


“What's a shocker?” Sam wrinkles his nose like he's already decided he won't like the answer.


“Seriously?” Dean shoots a look at his brother, or, as their more forward-thinking Iowan neighbors know him, Dean's “life-partner” Sam Wesson. Who has somehow miraculously escaped being both Dean's baby brother and his main source of sex for the better part of fifteen years without knowing what Charlie's hilarious hand-gesture meant. “Who are you? Were you raised by puritan wolves in a barn?”


“I was raised by a surrogate father-figure who started fucking me when I was 15.” Sam beams his bitch-face so brightly it makes Dean itch under the collar. “I've got daddy issues.


“Jesus Christ, Sammy.” Dean rolls his eyes, taking one hand off the wheel to hold it up, thumb holding down his ring finger while the other three point towards the roof of the Impala. He looks over at Sam and wriggles his fingers and his eyebrows as lewdly as possible. “Dude, two in the pink, one in the-”


“Dean, fuck!” Sam's big hand grabs onto the steering wheel and turns it sharply. Dean barely has time to register the staggering figure in front of the car before he slams on the brakes. He curses as he hears the bottom of his baby scrape against the gravel of the off-lane, apologizing to her and blessing those new brake pads as he jumps out.


Sam's ahead of him, kneeling down over the huddled figure of something dingy-white and shivering. Dean comes up short as he runs over, reeling in surprise because holy shit.


“Holy shit.” Dean kneels down next to Sam, looking over at his brother. “Is that...?”


“It's an angel.” Sam shakes his head and tentatively strokes a hand over the quivering wing beneath him. It's longer than the creature's body, wrapped protectively over it as it lays on its side. Longer plumes curve out from the small of its back, curling down over the back of its legs until it just looks like a big ball of dirty feathers. It starts as Sam brushes his hand against the top of a wing.


“Hey there little guy,” Sam says softly, petting his hand along the grain and shushing softly. Sam's always been good with animals, although Dean has to disagree with the “little guy.” The thing's huge from what he can tell, twice the size of the tittering little pets the Hiltons tote around with them.


“I don't think we hit it.” Sam gently runs his hand down the curve of a wing, picking it up to reveal a dirty and skinny but otherwise unharmed back. “But he doesn't look very healthy.”


“I didn't feel anything hit the car.” Dean looks back at the Impala, squinting to see if there's any damage. He looks back when he hears Sam let out another soothing “hey there.”


A mess of black hair and a bright blue eye peek out over the wing, blinking at Dean. The wing slowly lowers to reveal a scuffed but very pretty face, with a chiseled jaw and a chapped set of full lips.


“Uh, hey buddy,” Dean says uneasily, reaching out a hand and immediately drawing back when the angel springs to a crouch and tilts its head at him. And OK, Sam was definitely right about the “guy” part. His big eyes look scared as he flickers back and forth between Sam and Dean, feathers ruffling uneasily.


“Awww, Dean, he's so skinny.” Sam frowns and reaches out, trying to get the angel to come closer. “We should get him some food.”


Dean reaches into his jacket pocket, feeling around until he pulls out a half-eaten Snickers bar. He peels the wrapper back and holds it out to the angel, trying to imitate Sam's calm-and-friendly voice.


“You hungry? Want some-”


The angel snatches the candy bar and shoves it into his mouth in one quick motion, chomping noisily and humming. He smiles at Dean and swallows, licking his lips before leaning back on his heels.


He jumps so quickly it almost knocks Dean over. Dean's never seen anything move that fast before, crouching still one second and wrapping his arms and legs and wings around Dean the next. He makes little cooing noises as he buries his face in Dean's neck, wriggling around and holding onto Dean like an underfed octopus.


“I think he likes you.” Sam grins and stands up, brushing the dust off his knees and shooting totally shameless puppy eyes at Dean's befuddled expression.


What the fuck were they going to do with an angel?




“We can't call him Castle, that's stupid.” Dean pops a fry in his mouth and rolls his eyes, like Sam has the worst ideas sometimes.


“Well we found him on Olde Castle Road, I just thought, you know, that's like a thing that people do.” Sam shrugs and takes a bite of his turkey burger, chewing and looking across the coffee table at the angel happily seated between Dean's legs.


“I mean, if we're keeping him we need to give him a name, right?”


The “him” in question picks up his fifth chicken finger and bites into it with a happy look on his face. Sam still isn't sure how much he could understand, but he seems to follow their conversations and looks back and forth between them whenever they talk. When he's finished with his food he flares one of his wings and prods Dean's knee with it, making a displeased mewl and looking back at him.


“Sorry, big guy.” Dean smiles and picks up the small comb. “Where was I?”


The angel's wings are spread out across the couch, falling over Dean's lap and draping over either arm. It had taken over a month but the angel had finally put on some weight and let them groom his wings. He looks good, rosy-cheeked and sighing as Dean runs the little comb along the underside of his pinions.


“What about Cas?” Dean looks up and considers for a moment, smoothing a feather down. “That sounds like a real name, right?”


Sam scoots over on the floor until he's sitting in front of the angel. He reaches out to ruffle his hand through his hair, smiling at the way he coos and blushes prettily when Sam touches him. He seems to react differently with both of them, shyer with Sam and clingier with Dean.


“What do you think, should we call you Cas?” Sam smoothes down a lock of black hair, looking into the angel's pretty blue eyes. If he were a person he'd be incredibly handsome, and the way he bats his eyelashes and looks up at Sam is almost flirtatious.


“I like it.” Dean nods and reaches down, scratching lightly along the joint of his wings. “Who's my Cas, huh?”


The angel smiles between them and lets out a soft purr, closing his eyes and arching into it as Dean scratches him.


“I think he likes it.” Dean smiles at Sam, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Yeah, don't you Cas?” Dean looks so happy like this, content and taking such good care of the poor stray. Sam feels a surge of affection and goes to sit next to Dean on the couch, settling under one of Cas' helpfully-arched wings. He places his hand over Dean's, scratching at the downy under-feathers along the seam of the angel's wing.


Cas was quiet when they first brought him home, but now he makes a fascinating array of noises. Happy little coos, temperamental chirps (those mostly went to Dean), sweet titters (mostly for Sam), and best of all, the rumbling purr that he lets out when they're affectionate with him. Sam can feel it humming against him as they work along the sensitive skin of his wings until his leg jumps and he purrs even louder.


“That's a good spot, huh, Cas?” Dean says softly, scratching harder and smiling at Sam as Cas throws his head back, eyes closed and his mouth open like he's … well, like he's very happy. Dean scrunches his nose at Sam, making a “how cute” face that Sam can't resist kissing.


They both graze over the same area as they kiss, scratching together until Cas makes a noise he's never made before, a groan in his chest that makes them both look down.


“Guess he, uh, really likes that.” Dean purses his lips and looks everywhere except at Cas, or, well, everywhere except Cas' lap. Sam knows he should look away but he's transfixed in some sort of awkwardness-induced paralysis, the kind where his eyes can't tear themselves away from the sight of Cas' ridiculously huge and fully-sprung angel dick.


They'd been skirting around it, with awkward jokes about Cas being a healthy boy and times where one of them caught the other staring. It was just … hard not to notice it. Their attempts to wrangle Cas into clothes had been a complete failure, the lush trail of his tailfeathers making it impossible for anything to stay up.


“Guess he's a grower and a shower.” Dean laughs uncomfortably, pulling his hand back and resting it on his lap like he's afraid of what it'll do. Sam snorts, folding his arms over his chest and pressing his legs into the couch. The weight of Cas' wings against him feels very heavy all of a sudden.


“Maybe we should, uh, you know...” Sam shakes his head and makes himself look at Dean, who looks so bashful and paralyzed with discomfort it makes Sam feel a warm fondness in his belly. Dean could be such a twelve-year-old sometimes. “We should get him some pants.”


“We should … pants, yes, pants.” Dean smiles and lets out a long breath, smiling like he was relieved. What did he think Sam was going to say? “Pants, great idea. I mean, he's probably cold, right?”


They both look down at Cas, cheeks rosy and flushed pink down to the pert little buds of his nipples. They rise and fall as Cas sighs contentedly, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion now that they've stopped scratching him. Sam wonders if Cas would like it if they rubbed his chest like they rubbed his wings, if his nipples were sensitive like Dean's, if he'd make that same pretty face...


Pants. Pants, his seventh-grade science teacher, that time the septic tank had overflowed … Sam rubs the bridge of his nose and thinks of anything that isn't boner-inducing. He shifts his legs, doing his best to hide the half-woody that's starting to spring up under his sweats.


“Yeah, pants.” Dean runs his tongue over his teeth, making a pained face as he squirms back into the couch cushions. “Let's get on that.” Dean sucks his teeth and looks out the window, nodding his head and shifting again. “You know, in a minute.”




“Please tell me girls get the joke when they wear these.” Dean turns to look at Sam, his eyes wide as he points at the screen.


Dean's search for “pants for angels” had only led him to page after page of Victoria's Secret models wearing sherbet-hued track pants with “PINK” appliqued over the ass in huge letters. “I mean, Jesus, I know what I'm gonna see if I bend a chick over, I don't need it advertised on some teenager's backside.” Dean shudders and back-clicks.


“Angel clothes” is even worse, with more crystal-studded stretch velour than Dean can stomach. He's hardly a fashion plate but at least he always leaves the house in real pants. He finally finds a website with clothes for actual angels, and he's immediately insulted on behalf of Cas' entire species as he clicks through the pictures of tutus and tiny costumes.


“Aww, look Dean. You always liked cowboys.” Sam pushes his brother's hand away and opens the thumbnail picture, laughing until he has tears in his eyes. The poor angel on the screen looks furious, blue eyes glaring at the camera from beneath the toy-sized cowboy hat strapped underneath his chin. The back view shows a pair of faux-suede shorts and a tasseled vest so small they could double as a washcloth, with clever cut-outs for his wings and tailfeathers.


“Oh my God, that's just wrong.” Dean looks across the room at Cas. The angel is laid out on his bed, which looks more like a nest every day. They'd given up on trying to keep Cas from dragging their dirty t-shirts into it. Cas' eyes are half-closed as he absently runs his fingers through his tailfeathers, grooming himself and blinking sleepily as Dean looks at him.


“Here, let me try.” Sam nudges him out of the way and scoots his chair in front of the computer. He thinks for a moment before typing “angel bottoms” into the search box.


“Oh shit.” Dean's jaw drops open as the screen fills with images of angels who are definitely not wearing any clothes.


“Oh God.” Sam pulls his hand back, bumping his elbow into Dean and shooting a panicked look at him. Dean's eyes are glued to the screen, his lips parted a little as he reads the porn-site blurbs. Horny Angels Stuffed Full of Cock!!! Winged Beauty Double-Stuffed Creampie Load CLICK HERE!!!


“That, I mean, holy shit.” Sam runs a hand through his hair, darting a look at Cas. The angel is half-asleep, yawning as Sam looks at him. He turns guiltily back to the screen, raising an eyebrow as he sees Dean scroll down the page and hover the cursor over one image in particular. “Oh fuck.”


“It, there's no, like, that can't be real.” The red creeping across Dean's face makes his freckles stand out as he stares at the screen, a pink slip of tongue darting over his lips. Sam puffs his cheeks and blows out a breath, lost for words as he reads the flashing script.


Watch Hung Angels Mount Their Human Bitches. The featured gif set shows a generic-looking blonde guy on his hands and knees, smiling at the camera over his shoulder. The next frame is an angel, as large as Cas and just as well-endowed, ploughing into the guy as he bares his teeth. The last one is a good old gape shot, with the angel's thick cock spilling out a dripping line of come right into the guy's stretched-red hole.


“Yeah, there's no way, I mean, it can't be...” Sam trails off, squirming in his seat for the second time today because fuck. “Here, see, if we watch it, it'll totally be fake.” Sam clicks on the link before he can change his mind.


“Sammy,” Dean whispers, looking back and forth between the screen and the now-sleeping angel in the corner. His eyes are dark and his face is flushed judging by the way his hips are moving he's just as curious as Sam.


“Come on, we can just watch one, right?” Sam shrugs his shoulder and clicks the little arrows for full-screen.




“OK, just one more.” Dean slides his fingers down the track-pad of the laptop, clicking on a small thumbnail with a preview shot of a tattooed twink getting spit-roasted by two blonde angels.


Sam bites his lip, looking over at Cas curled up and snoring away. “Yeah, ok, one more and then we stop.”


“Yeah, we'll stop.” Dean nods and hits the play button.


“Oh, fuck...”




“Where's your credit card?” Dean grinds a hand against his crotch and looks pleadingly at Sam.


“I'm not putting that on my credit card!” Sam stage-whispers through his teeth. “I think this shit's illegal, Dean.”


“Sammy, come on.” Dean squirms in his chair and bites on his lip, knocking his leg against Sam's. “They, like, scramble it or some shit, don't they? I'd do it but mine's all maxed out right now.”


Sam looks back and forth between his brother and the screen, the garish colors of the porn site reflecting off Dean's pathetically wide eyes. The porn site that could probably get them fucking arrested, Jesus, but on second thought their entire relationship was illegal in every civilized country on earth. And just like fucking his brother, it was probably the hottest fucking thing Sam had ever seen and he wanted to watch it until his eyes fell out.


“Fine, but if the Feds show up, I'm throwing you under the bus.” Sam almost knocks over a glass of water with his painfully-swollen hard-on. He grabs his wallet off the table and punches in the numbers, pressing his hand against the base of his dick and groaning.


They could watch more, but there is no way Sam is jerking off to angel porn while Cas is still in the room.




“This is fucked, Sammy.”


Dean licks his lips and shakes his head, shoulder pumping up and down in quick little jumps while he strokes himself. The lean-muscled brunette on the screen, their unanimous favorite, grips his hands tighter into the headboard and turns to wink at the camera. His face is flushed red and glistening with sweat as he closes his eyes, flexing his back and pushing a thick sluice of angel come out of his ass. It runs down his thighs and pools on the sheets beneath him, adding to the mess left by the two previous angels. The third one muscles in, pushing the other two aside to grab onto the man's hips and start pounding into him without prelude. Four hours of top-notch research have confirmed that angels aren't big on prep-work.


“I know, I know.” Sam twists his wrist over the head of his cock, smearing precome onto the shaft while he cups his balls with his other hand. “Just this once, right?”


Sam looks back at the screen, jacking himself faster as he watches the biggest angel (Rex, his name is Rex and he has a small mole on his thigh and Sam is going to burn in hell for eternity) fuck the man half-way to senseless, jack-hammering his ass like... well, he is a fucking animal.


Dean groans as the angel fucks the guy faster, his wings flaring up in what they can now recognize as a tell. The angel doesn't stop fucking him when he comes, either, just keeps thrusting into him as thick jizz oozes out from around the sides of his fat cock.


“I wonder, you know,” Sam says breathlessly, squeezing out another cloudy pearl of precome, “how they train them to do that?”


Dean turns to him, panting for breath and stopping his hand.


“Bedroom. Now.”




“Dean, hold on, you're barely even prep-”


“Shut the fuck up, Sammy.” Dean flattens his palm against the curve of Sam's chest, pushing him down on the bed. Sam knows better than to argue – if Dean says he's ready, he's ready.


Dean's so tight it almost hurts as he sinks down, taking Sam in one slow, bruise-grip slide that makes Sam whine in the back of his throat. He can feel the blood rushing in his ears as Dean takes him in, so fucking tight it's just enough to keep Sam from coming right fucking then. They'd been on edge for hours, leaking-wet and throbbing-hard and hot with the sort of filthy-good shame that made Sam's stomach clench every time he thought about what he'd seen.


“Fuck, Sammy.” It's a growl, loosed through Dean's teeth as he arches his back, curved and wrecked until he's fully seated and heaving for breath. He circles his hips to drive himself down, eyes heavy and right on Sam as he licks his palm, flat-tongued and filthy and half for show. Sam rocks up a little, just enough to let Dean know he's ready, waiting, thinking about the same shit that Dean is because Sam can always see right through him.


Dean drags his tongue up and flicks it over the tips of his fingers before wrapping his hand around his dick, stroking up from the bottom until the pink-flush of his foreskin sits like a crown and a cloudy drop of precome drips onto Sam's stomach. Dean's head rolls to one side, eyes closed for the first few strokes before he gives Sam that look, lip sucked under his teeth like he can't bring himself to ask.


“Go on.” Sam digs his fingers into the bend of Dean's hip, squeezing hard before pulling off for a mild swat. “Fuck yourself.”


Dean's mouth opens like a thank you, all wet lips and pink tongue as he balances a hand behind him and moves. His face is a grimace, but beautiful, teeth-bared pleasure-pain of Sam thick inside him as Dean pulls off a few hard-won inches. His hips roll languidly, pushing his cock up into his hand just to pull back as he takes Sam to the hilt again. In and out and up and down, body flexing and curving and Sam could never see the sin in it, just the beauty.


Sam swipes a thumb through the slick-shine pool on his stomach, painting his lips before cradling his head in his arm. Only Dean could have his brother's cock balls-deep in his ass and still make Sam feel like a voyeur.


“Harder.” Sam juts his hips up, more of a suggestion than any real work. “Come on, Dean, take it.” Hips up once more, gentle encouragement as Dean starts to fuck him faster. “Show me how good it feels, fuck,” Sam gasps as Dean pulls off to the tip, up on his knees as he fucking squeezes Sam from the inside before slamming himself back down. Dean grunts and it's dirty and loud, just like the slap of skin as Dean rides him. They were made for each other but Jesus fuck Dean was made for this.


“That's it, fuck, come on, Dean, wanna feel you come.” Sam rears up on his elbows, not even bothering to look at Dean's fist flying over his cock because his face is a thousand times better. “Come with that big cock in your ass, take it so fucking good Dean, God, do it.” Dean clenches down around him, mouth open like he'd scream Sam's name if he could remember how to speak.


Dean sounds like he's choking as he comes, white ropes flying through the air to land on Sam's chin. The cords of his neck strain out as he throws his head back, growling as the last stripes of come paint Sam's chest and stomach. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean mutters, eyes rolled back in his head, chest heaving as he comes down, “fuck, FUCK SAM FUCK.”


Dean lets out what can only be called a yelp, about an octave higher than anything he's ever done during sex, and scrambles off Sam's dick so fast he can practically hear the pop.


“Jesus Christ! We've gotta put a fucking bell on him or something!”


Cas tilts his head and coos at them, ruffling his wings to lay out over the edge of the bed. His eyes are bright as he smiles and flexes his hips against the bed. The head of his cock peeks out over the top of the comforter, shining wet and heavy red as he ruts himself against the corner of the mattress.


“I thought you locked the door,” Sam grates through his teeth, turning his head to Dean but unable to keep his eyes off the sight of Cas.


“I thought you did it,” Dean barks back, running his hand through his hair. “He's, uh, wow...” Dean trails off, looking at the exact same thing as Sam.


“He's so fucking hard.” It's out of Sam's mouth before he can catch it.


Sam.” Dean breathes it out, so many questions in one little syllable, not that they've ever needed a lot of words with each other. Sam knows what Dean wants and fuck, he probably wants it even more.


“C'mere, Cas.” Sam pats the bed, licking his lips as Cas crawls up and rears back on his knees. His wings are spread wide, feathers puffing up as he rolls his shoulders. The slender plumes of his tailfeathers spread out behind him, fanning out in a display that Sam recognizes with a sick jerk of his cock. Cas is ready to fuck something until it screams.


Dean lets out a desperate sort of sigh as a clear drop of precome beads up on the head of the angel's dick. Cas growls softly in his throat, looking back and forth between Sam and Dean and pressing his lips together. He rubs his palm against his cock, spreading the slick drop down the shaft of it and narrowing his eyes at Dean while his nostrils flare wide.


“Yeah,” Sam says under his breath, nodding and picking up the bottle of lube from its nest in the pillows. If he was going to hell he was going with bells on and damn well taking Dean with him.


Dean groans again as Sam snicks the bottle open, pouring a generous pool into his palm. Cas looks quizzically at the clear liquid as Sam shuffles over to him, his own hard-on bobbing in front of him and still shiny-wet.


“Good boy, Cas.” Sam reaches down slowly, not wanting to spook the angel as he carefully wraps a slick hand around the hot flesh of his cock. Cas seems to have no objections, flapping his wings once before purring loudly and helpfully thrusting into Sam's hand. Sam looks back at his brother, watching Dean lick his lips and move a few shaky inches closer.


“Wanna play, Cas, huh?” Sam moves his hand faster, spreading silicone and marveling that his thumb can barely touch his middle finger as he slides to the base. “Yeah, I bet you do.” Cas purrs deeper, his mouth open as he watches Dean come closer.


Sam gives him a few more strokes before letting go, leaving Cas' cock bobbing wet and ready. Dean is pressed next to him, breathing jaggedly in that no-man's-land between sex and fear and guilt and need. Of course Dean would want this, and of course he'd start to hate himself if Sam let him. From that first time he'd drunkenly fallen into Sam's bed and choked out, “Please, Sammy,” like it was tearing him apart, Dean always got off hardest when he knew it was wrong.


Sam pulls Dean in for a kiss, rough and insistent and rock-solid with how much he loves Dean. It's ok, it's alright, just let go, I got you, all tangled up with the press of their lips and Sam's hand tight around the back of Dean's neck.


“Do it, Dean.” Sam pulls off and presses down, fingers grazing over the short spikes of hair at the nape of Dean's neck. “Show him.”


Dean's whole body relaxes at the order, back bowing down as he settles on his hands and knees. He spreads his legs wide, flashing the slick red of his hole, puffed and used already. Cas rumbles his approval, starting forward until Sam plants a hand on his chest. He has to know who's in charge here.


“Tell him, Dean.” Sam presses down again, pushing Dean's face flat against the rumpled sheets. Dean whines in protest until Sam presses harder, squeezing his eyes shut and canting his hips up higher.


“Fuck, yeah, c'mon Cas,” Dean mumbles into the sheets, panting through his mouth as Sam spreads two fingers inside him and pours a thick line of lube straight into him. He'll need it.


Sam turns back to Cas, jutting his chin in order. Cas' eyes flash with excitement as Sam guides him forward with a hand around his cock. He knows what to do when he gets close to Dean, planting two sure hands on Dean's hips and trying to thrust right into him. Only Sam's firm grip keeps him from slamming into Dean right away.


Sam clicks his tongue at Cas, squeezing his dick again as he traces the fat head of it over the slick gape of Dean's hole.


“Want him to mount you, Dean?” Sam feels his breath catch as he rests the tip of Cas' cock against Dean's flexing rim. It's so fucking thick, God, it barely looks like it'll fit even after Sam's already fucked him open. “Say it.”


“Fuck, Sam.” Dean looks back at him, face wrecked before Cas even gets the head in. Sam holds firm, clenching his fingers as Cas grunts with frustration. Dean might glare at him now but he'll love him for it later. It's always been Sam's job to make Dean say what he really wants.


“Fuck me, Cas, God, Sam, just fucking do it.” Dean buries his face in the sheets, hips tilting up that extra millimeter as Cas purrs in his throat. Sam slides his hand back to the base, giving Cas just enough purchase to push the crown of his dick inside. Sam's own cock twitches as he watches Dean's hole stretch and swallow, always so fucking hungry for it.


Dean's eyes fly open as Cas starts to sink in slowly, Sam's hand tugging firmly on the angel's heavy nuts to keep him from rutting in too quickly. Dean looks at Sam, eyes heavy and his mouth slack enough that Sam can see a little line of drool running out from the side.


“Fuck, fuck, yes, fuck,” Dean grits out, grinding his teeth together as inch after inch of angel cock sinks wet and thick inside him. “God, yes, that's it, gonna fuck me good, Cas?”


Sam groans and spares a few strokes for himself. He's always admired this toughness of Dean's, how he can just take it like a fucking cockslut and still be so goddam bossy. Sam still keeps his palm firmly cupped around Cas' balls as he sinks to the base, bottoming out to a long filthy sound from Dean.


“Jesus fuck, Sammy, he's fucking huge,” Dean gasps, clenching his hands into the sheets. He takes four long breaths, muscles of his back heaving up and down as he takes the stretch. Cas growls louder with each passing second, his hands digging into Dean's hips hard enough to leave white half-moons over the flush-fucked red of Dean's skin. He'll have bruises tomorrow. Sam's dick twitches just thinking about licking over them, sucking on each one until Dean remembers, until he's grating his teeth and begging for Cas inside him again.


Sam's mouth waters as he realizes this won't be the last time they'll do this.


“So fucking hot, Dean, Christ.” Sam licks his lips and squeezes his cock, pushing out another bead of precome and fuck it's a miracle he hasn't passed out from dehydration yet. “You ready?” Sam lets go of his dick and runs his hand up the trembling muscles of Dean's thigh.


“Yeah.” Dean looks back at him before squaring his shoulders and letting his forehead rest against the sheets. He rocks himself back onto Cas just as Sam releases his hold on the angel's balls, and Sam's honestly not sure which one of them makes the visceral growl that fills the room after that. Probably all three.


Cas pistons his hips forward hard enough that Sam can hear the slap, skin-wet and filthy as Dean moans and struggles to hold his weight up under the onslaught. His elbows dig into the mattress with each thrust, hands scrabbling at the sheets as he mumbles out incoherent curse words and praise.


Sam doesn't even realize he's jerking himself off until he feels the familiar tense coil in his nuts. He stills his hand and squeezes, staving himself off so he can just watch.


And fucking Christ is this better live. Some industrious part of Sam off-handedly wonders how much money they could make if they filmed this, because Rex and the crew of have nothing on Cas. The noises he makes are just human enough to make Sam's dick hard-wire jump at the sound, mingled with the growling purrs and possessive grunts that no person could really manage.


Cas' wings flare bright and broad across the foot of the bed, jerking in time with his jackhammer pace into the moaning mess Dean is quickly devolving into. Sam can feel them moving the air against his skin, cool over the warm flush of his delicious, shameful arousal. Dean looks so fucking good like this, slick red of his hole clinging every time Cas pulls back. Dean always takes it like a fucking champ.


“Good boy, Cas, that's it, fuck him good.” Sam rumbles under his breath, the wall between his brain and his tongue one more crossed line that Sam supremely does not give a fuck about. Dean doesn't seem to mind either, slurring out something close to Sam's name as Cas preens at the praise and fucks him harder. Sam smiles and runs his hand up Dean's sweat-dappled side, resting his hand over the back of Dean's neck.


“Like that, Dean, big fucking angel cock inside you?” Sam rubs his hand along the tensing muscles in Dean's neck, reassurance and ownership for the price of one. “Look so fucking good like this, you know that? All stretched out while he mounts you, take it so good.” Sam bites his lip and closes his eyes for a second, giving his nuts a rough tug. He's gonna come in about 0.02 seconds if he doesn't shut the fuck up.


Cas' face is shining, eyes bright blue and teeth shining white as he curls his lip back in a snarl. His hips snap forward so fast Sam can feel the bed shake underneath him. Sam isn't the only one who's about to lose it.


“Shit,” Sam groans, throwing his head back and blowing a breath out through his lips. He wants to see Cas come but there's no way he's gonna last much longer, and there is no force on earth that is going to keep Sam from coming in his brother's face right now.


“Sammy.” Dean turns to look at him, eyes barely green for all the pupil. Dean knows, of course, licking his lips in invitation. They're swollen thick and ripe, the same come-hither red that Sam can just see as Cas pulls back. Of course Dean would still worry about taking care of him even with a baker's dozen inches of angel cock pounding into him.


Sam quickly knee-walks up to the head of the bed, cock waving wet in front of him as he spreads his knees. Dean's half-way out of his mind, eyes rolled back in his head and sweat running down his face, but he still parts his lips as Sam paints the head of his cock over them. Squeamish Dean has never been, undeterred by the remnants of getting fucked as he licks into the slit of Sam's cock. Dean's always good like that.


“Dean, God.” Sam watches as Dean easily swallows him down, greedy on both ends and so fucking perfect. Sam can feel the answering grunt in Dean's throat each time Cas fucks into him, the angel's own mounting growl and halo of white tailfeathers making Sam wonder who's going to come first.


“Think he's gonna come, Dean.” Sam shudders at the roll of Dean's tongue over the underside of his dick, always with the dirty tricks even when he's gargling nonsense and leaking ropes of spit onto the sheets. “Come inside you, fuck, want it, don't you?” Sam groans as he feels the first sparks of his orgasm, coiling in his spine as his skin starts to tingle. “Pump you full of it, let him fucking breed you?”


It's not like Sam wasn't already close, but the noise Dean lets out would probably make Sam cream himself while he was soft and standing in line at the DMV. He manages to pull out half-way through, landing a few choice stripes on Dean's face.


Cas has been watching them intently, eyes lighting up with each wet sound Dean makes. His nostrils flare as Sam squeezes out the last drop of come onto his thumb, pressing the pad into Dean's mouth. Fuck, it stinks like sex in here to Sam, he can't even imagine what it must smell like to Cas.


Pretty damn good, apparently. The angel snarls as he rakes his nails down Dean's side, leaving white trails that turn an angry red as he curves his back. His wings fold forward, cascading over his shoulders to flank Dean in a protective arc. His eyes widen and his breathing stutters, taking quick jerks of breath as he buries himself deep and lets out a low, wild sound that makes Sam shiver.


“Fuck, fuck, Cas, yes, good boy, good angel.” Sam staggers over to peel Cas' hands from their hold on Dean's hips, kissing over the dented marks. The angel mewls a little but doesn't put up a fight as Sam reaches down to trace his finger over the puffed red of Dean's hole, stretched-wet and leaking trails of clear come as Cas draws back. He mewls a little louder as Sam wraps his thumb and forefinger around the thick base of his cock, making him pull out and move aside. Sam can guess that Cas wants to stay buried in Dean's ass as long as he can, but Sam has to see.


“Holy shit, Dean.” Sam groans as a thick line of angel spunk runs down the seam of Dean's balls, tracing a slick path as it seeps down to the bed. “Wish you could see this,” Sam says as he starts to press two fingers into that pretty pink gape. “Jesus, you look like oomph-”


A face full of feathers knocks Sam unceremoniously off the bed. He lands on his side as he hears Dean mumble, “The fuck-” before he breaks off with a choking noise and a long string of consonants.


“Bad Cas, bad,” Sam yells as he scrambles up, prepared to swat the angel on the ass until he stops dead and feels his mouth fall open. None of the videos had featured this.


Cas' wings are folded against his back, out of the way as he kneels behind Dean and licks into him like he's got a prize inside. He works his neck in time with his satisfied purrs, stopping to give Sam a recalcitrant glare before flattening his tongue and dragging it across the swollen mess he's left behind.


“Oh God, good Cas, good boy, sorry,” Sam croons, kneeling back on the bed and giving Cas a scratch behind the ear. The angel sighs and makes the happiest, most contentedly disgusting slurping noise Sam has ever heard.


Dean's face is stuck somewhere between “religious experience” and “stroke victim”, jaw working as he mumbles out a bunch of nonsense and rolls his eyes back. There's no way Dean isn't loving this, fuck knows he loses his shit whenever Sam does it.


“Sam, Sam, he's, fuck,” Dean stutters through his teeth, gasping in a long breath as Cas hums behind him. “K-k, he's got, shit, you've gotta, oh God.” Not that there's much space left for dignity, but the bleat Dean lets out is as pathetic as it is ridiculously hot. He takes another deep breath before blurting out, “Cashasakittycattongue.”


Sam's jaw would fall further open if it could. He's never been big on playing catch, but “kitty cat tongue” is a detail he'll be filing away for later use. Both to tease Dean for saying “kitty cat,” because, seriously, they're still brothers, but mostly to see if Cas is interested in doing that to something he hasn't just fucked.


“C'mere,” Dean slurs, blinking up at Sam before groaning at some presumably amazing thing Cas just did with his mouth. Sam settles down on his side, kissing Dean until he can taste himself. Dean will need some reassurance tomorrow, but right now he just needs to be nuzzled. Sam brushes his lips across Dean's, letting the tips of their noses rub together the way they used to when they were little.


Cas licks a final stripe before he rears up, tilting his head and surveying the damage before giving a strangely eloquent shrug. He yawns and stretches his arms, rolling his neck and fluffing his feathers. After a few sleepy blinks he lays down next to Dean, huffing his breath before curling up in a ball of downy white and promptly passing out.


“Fuck.” Dean manages to say about a dozen things Sam totally agrees with in that one word, rolling onto his back with a satisfied wince.


“Yeah.” Sam snorts and snugs up against Dean's side, breathing in the salt-sex smell of him and loving it. He looks across the broad expanse of his brother's chest to the angel curled up next to them.


“So, does he get to sleep in the bed now?”