[Castiel] Thursday's child has far to go. (childofthursday) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-08-23 16:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !trigger warning, castiel, dean winchester, lucifer morningstar, samandriel |
Who: Castiel & Samandriel, later appearance by Dean Winchester and tiny phone appearance by Lucifer Morningstar
What: Samandriel got his wings and talks to Cas about it. Awkward situation turns more awkward when Dean assumes the worst and then some stuff.
When: 8/21
Where: Casa de Winchester
Rating: NC-17. High. Really high. relations with someone 3 months shy of being legal. Possibly questionable or uncomfortable BDSM situations.
Status: Complete
Lucifer was working at the moment and so Samandriel was meant to be either resting or entertaining himself. That partially turned into texting Castiel. And texting Castiel turned into really needing to see him because maybe his brother would understand all the distress running through him.
Really needing to see him gave Samandriel the distinct impression that he probably could right that moment if he wished to. So he wrapped himself up as much as he could in a sheet (pants were going to be a very bad idea and he still had no idea if he could wear a shirt or not,) and, picking up his phone again, was simply there. Behind Castiel with the flutter of great wings.
And a little dizzy. Whoa. He really hoped he didn’t puke.
His phone dinged. Samandriel looked at it. “Seconds,” he replied, still trying to find his balance.
Castiel had not at all been expecting that. Of course he hadn't. He whirled, shocked enough for his breath to catch before he realized it was Samandriel standing there -- wrapped in a sheet?
It wasn't unlike Cas to just stare, and so he did that for a moment, eyes squinted and narrow. "You can do that now," he said, like it wasn't the most obvious elephant in the room. He held out a hand, as if concerned his younger brother might fall over. "Are you alright?"
“Maybe?” Samandriel said, tipping forward towards Castiel. No. No not alright. He just kept on tipping and he couldn’t seem to get his wings to listen to him to reverse his forward momentum. This was going to take some learning, wasn’t it? “No,” he squeaked. But there he was anyway, falling forward and trying not to drop his sheet and- oh bother.
Castiel caught him before he fell -- one hand strong against the younger man's chest and the other gripping tightly to his shoulder. "Oh," Cas said, feeling very uncomfortable over the loss of that sheet, now pooling at their ankles.
"Oh," he said again because he just wasn't sure what else to say about a naked, dizzy boy who looked a bit discolored.
Samandriel froze. Every muscle in parts of him physically manifested and not tensed up. He stared at the sheet, at Castiel’s hand on his chest (because it was in front of him,) and was pretty sure his world was ending. Right there. Both Lucifer and Dean were going to tear him a new one and he hadn’t even done anything intentionally.
He even stopped breathing, something he didn’t realize until his lungs were yelling at him and he let out his breath with a soft, distressed sound. The solution, apparently was to keep not moving and pretend like this wasn’t happening.
"I'll just--" Cas managed to keep a hand on the boy's arm as he knelt down to retrieve the sheet. It was slow, exceptionally awkward work that resulted in him seeing a little too much of everything he'd never wanted to. He tilted his head back and turned even more uncomfortable over noting how red Samandriel's behind was.
"Here," he said, thrusting the cloth upward.
“St-” Samandriel started, but it was already too late. Mortified, he took the sheet and clutched it to his chest. He would be okay with dying now. That would be alright, particularly now that his body was starting to betray him and decided that embarrassment was his newest kink. Fortunately, the sheet was already in the way and so all Samandriel had to do was wrap himself up in it again and Castiel would never notice. No, they would never, ever speak of this.
Castiel wasn't even going to speak of it now. He stood, looking stiff, uncomfortable and a bit like he wished he could teleport away (not for the first time this week, ironically). He was lucky that he was having no kind of reaction beside embarrassment. Then again, he never did when Dean wasn't involved. "It's -- So. You have wings?"
Samandriel looked resolutely at his feet, or rather where his feet would be if everything weren’t all sheet. “Yes, sir,” he squeaked, clutching the sheet tighter and really, really wishing that Castiel would take his hand off his arm. It was helping nothing. He could stand just fine now. Probably. Maybe. God help him.
“Sorry, I’m not-” Samandriel cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I can wear clothes?” Or at least a shirt and he was really hoping Castiel hadn’t seen his ass.
Cas finally did let go, letting his open palm hover near Samandriel for a moment before deciding that he seemed okay to stand. "Oh, I see," he said, and actually did get it. Even if he couldn't yet see the wings, he knew they were there. He knew what they were like. For a moment, he nearly felt envious.
"I…think you could." Cas decided after a moment of internal debate. "We could in the dreams. They aren't exactly -- well." Solid?
Samandriel kept his sheet now up about his chest and still somehow barely holding on to the slight curve just at the small of his back. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt like an Alphonse Mucha painting, only with wings that no one else could see.
“I haven’t gotten to the point in the dreams where we really worry about clothing,” Samandriel said sheepishly. “I’m just in the muddly period between testaments.”i
"Still." Cas found it a little interesting, the difference between their dreaming. Samandriel's focused on actually being in heaven and watching all the changes of the world and humanity, whereas Cas, possibly just subconsciously, considered those background things. Of course Dean was more important than creation or the testaments.
"In my dreams, then. It's more like willing them away and back again if you want." Like mentally folding something back and away that was there, but not. "Do you need a… shirt?"
“No,” Samandriel said. “Lucifer will yell at me if I come home wearing someone else’s shirt.” Well, maybe not yell, but definitely be cross. “They’re a lot of energy. Wings, I mean, not shirts.”
Frowning at that, Cas observed the sheet a little judgmentally. "I don't know why he'd be mad at you for something like that." It only occurred to him a second later that maybe that's why Samandriel's rear was so discolored. Oh. Well.
He cleared his throat and considered the shade of paint on his own bedroom walls.
“Because I didn’t exactly tell him I was leaving,” Samandriel said and- yes Castiel seemed to have a rather similar reaction to embarrassment. They were not talking about his rear and Samandriel was certainly trying very hard not to think about it. At all. It wasn’t helping anything.
“I...Castiel how do I deal with this?”
As much as they weren't talking about it, they were both clearly just thinking about it. Or thinking about not thinking about it, which was practically the same thing, wasn't it?
"With -- the wings?" That he needed clarification probably wasn't a good thing.
“With very rapidly becoming not at all human,” Samandriel said, brows knitting in concern as he resolutely remained standing in Castiel’s- oh he really hoped that this was an office that just happened to have a bed in it.
It wasn't. It was, in fact, very clearly a bedroom. With a bed in it. Luckily, Castiel was as fully dressed as ever, nice slacks, button up and tie, even though he didn't work today. It was sort of a thing.
He considered the question with as much gravity as it deserved, tilting his mouth into a little frown and squinting thoughtfully. He didn't have the same problem, not yet, and so he was unsure of how to give advice on it. There was a giant difference between knowing Russian and having wings, after all. "None of the changes will be -- visible to most, if anyone," he said finally. "I expect the best thing to do is attempt discretion."
“That doesn’t help me on a psychological level,” Samandriel pointed out, sitting gingerly on the end of the bed. Standing was an issue when you were still lightheaded from suddenly transporting.
"No," Castiel agreed. "It doesn't."
But that wasn't advice that Samandriel probably wanted from Castiel anyway, who wasn't exactly on the same psychological level as most, anyway. Not that Cas really got that. He considered some more, moving to sit down beside the other angel. "I am unsure. Just speak about it when you need to?" Castiel: the most unhelpful of Heaven's Host.
Samandriel rested his heels on the footboard, shifting a little to keep his sheet from somehow pulling off again. He let what he was holding against his chest pool in his lap. His wings stretched back and he curled them around again, but Cas was in the way so he just sort of tried to angle it in a way that was comfortable for him and wasn’t screwing with his head by going straight through the other angel.
“This is all a very odd situation to be in,” he said quietly. “I just want it to be… I don’t think easier is the right word here, but perhaps a guidebook would be nice. How do you come out to your parents as an angel? Mom had a hard enough time dealing with the idea that I might not be interested in anyone at all so how on Earth would I be able to explain to her that no, it’s not that it’s no one...it’s just...an older man who isn’t technically a man at all and actually an angel as well?”
The younger angel sighed heavily. “That sounds rather species-ist doesn’t it?” Especially to the angel who was all bound up with a human. “I’m sorry.”
Cas was considering his hands in his own lap, sort of taking it all in and then just letting the other angel's words sit in the air for a moment. They were oddly alike, he realized, and not just because of the angel thing.
"You don't need to be sorry, I understand very well what you mean. Before Dean…" He shrugged, a little helplessly, unsure of how to put it. He wasn't even species-ist. There was only Dean. Deansexual? "There was never an interest. In anyone. Ever. Perhaps they will be happy that you've found someone, despite the differences." A pause. "Although I don't know I would tell them about that or the angel things yet. Not that I condone mistruths or lying, but it seems rather prudent in your case."
“They’re both gone until the end of the week anyway,” Samandriel said softly. “And I’m not telling them about Lucifer until I’m legal.” He looked down at his hands, glad that Castiel had apparently either not caught or chosen to ignore Samandriel’s implication that he rather had a Thing he didn’t understand for Castiel as well. He didn’t like that it was there, but he supposed he was young and supposed to have Urges anyway.
“I think they’ll handle the angel thing better anyway.” A compulsory trip to a psych ward that he would just break out of was easier proof than anything else. His curiosity might even have him staying a little while to learn about the other people there. “I mean I’m sure they’ll blame him for the whole me not wanting to go to college right away anyway. And possibly for my apparent psychotic break as well.”
Cas wasn't ignoring it, he truly just hadn't noticed. He was constantly blind to the fact that he might be attractive to others, and definitely would not have even considered the fact that Samandriel, who he considered a little brother, would have feelings of that nature toward him.
"When are you legal?" He asked, looking for more information to fill all the blanks of this conversation in before making any large assumptions about anything else. College was important, but he knew that many people waited for a while before going, that wasn't exceptionally absurd to him.
“Christmas day,” Samandriel said softly. Samandriel frowned deeply, considering all of this. “What if I’m full angel by then? What if I truly can’t sit around to actually attend class?” Angelic Samandriel seemed far more prone to running off and doing things than he was. And moreover what if people needed him? “Or what if I don’t tell them and something happens and it’s very obvious that I’m even more not normal than was already clear?” Samandriel had tensed himself up so much, focused so hard on his angelic parts that he didn’t even realize that his wings manifested in the physical plane and he was currently trying to close around himself which really just meant that he was closing around Castiel as well.
"You have four months to figure that out, then. But I am of the opinion that we will never truly be the same as we are in the dreams, even as full angels," Castiel said, tilting his head to the side. "We are just as shaped by the lives that we currently have, and that won't change." It was clear that Cas had been thinking about that a lot, himself.
But then there were wings. Wings that were nearly hugging him, and Castiel lost any thoughts of more kind words or advice, instead just staring at them thoughtfully. He wasn't shocked to see them, not really. He touched at the feathers in a way that was both careful and curious. "The colors suit you perfectly," he told his brother.
They weren’t nearly hugging him, the one was actually bent all the way around in front of Castiel’s face. Castiel touching his feathers? It was rather a similar sensation to someone running fingers through hair, far too intimate and arousing. He was too stunned by the one way that Castiel’s touch could feel at all like Lucifer’s that he couldn’t think for a moment.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “But you have had much more life than I to be shaped by.” And increasingly (worryingly so,) his life before was feeling more like a blur, like a thing that didn’t truly matter. What ties held him to people anyway? Only Abigail and Julia seemed to be any kind of constant in his life. Well, and Abigail’s father, but Samandriel prefered not to think about that. All his instincts were telling him that he’d always been more angel than human.
Oblivious as ever, Castiel just kept on touching. Seeing these wings rather made some part of him hurt on the inside. He felt more lacking now than he sometimes did when he woke up. He should have these, too. As awkward as Samandriel seemed about it, there was something terribly right about them.
"Maybe." Castiel couldn't quite disagree with that, he was much older, after all. "But there will always be things here that there weren't in the dreams. Perhaps that will be a steadying force." Like himself, for instance. They were brothers there too, but not close, not like this.
And then there was… Lucifer. Who Castiel was still not sure he approved of in the least. But he did know that some people could be good here, even if they weren't the the dreams, past lives, whatever they were. He'd met the demon snake from the Garden of Eden on the internet. That man was now married to an angel.
“Castiel,” Samandriel said, too polite to just pull his wings away, but really developing a problem here. “You should stop that,” he whispered, because now he was very definitely hard and it took a lot of work to curb his impulses and keep from kissing Castiel, from putting himself in the other man’s lap and just letting him play with his wings all day because Castiel understood on a level that Lucifer didn’t.
“They’re ah...rather sensitive.” Because those touches had moved from a level that was tolerable, just fingers through his hair, onto something almost unholy, like those gentle fingers down his chest and back and sides and - No.
Blinking, Castiel let that register and then dropped his hands back into his own lap faster than should have been possible. "Oh," he said, and his tone was not as even as he might have liked.
The thing about Cas was, he never seemed to notice things like these until they were practically slapping him in the face. Then it was just the worst kind of shock and embarrassment all at once. It'd left him fumbling for Dean's car door and freedom the first time around. This time, he just went red. Impossibly red.
"I'm sorry," he said, because he really, really was. And then he stood, somehow maneuvering around the wings. "I just --" Bathroom. He'd hide there for a minute. Until he could come back and they could pretend it hadn't happened.
Samandriel was embarrassed enough as well that his wings went...wherever they went when no one else could see them. He just sat there on the bed actively wishing he was somewhere else and working against it because he knew he’d puke this time.
It was okay. They were going to be okay. Somehow.
He didn’t even notice someone else in the room until it was far, far too late.
Dean had been expecting to come upstairs and find his angel. It’d been a long day and he was tired, real goddamn tired even though he had Scud’s proposal to think about. He was going to talk to Cas about it after he pouted at his husband until he got a massage.
Instead, there was the other angel with the staring problem sitting on his bed. Their bed, wearing only a damn sheet. The bed was still made and that sheet looked like silk, so Dean was pretty sure it wasn’t theirs, but that helped nothing.
His anger went from mildly frustrated with dealing with fucking people all day to livid in seconds flat. “Cas!” he practically roared. Wherever the hell his angel was, it had better not be in the damn house. Shit, that kid better have broken in or something.
Unfortunately, Dean's hopes for his own angel to be absent were not to be. Upon hearing that yell, Cas - not even fully realizing the implications - yanked open the door of the adjoining bathroom and spotted Dean there.
A very angry looking Dean.
Any red that he'd been previously drained away until Cas was pale as could be, and his eyes went incredibly wide. It occurred to him that he was about to be in very much trouble.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. "Dean. It isn't--" He didn't even want to turn his gaze over to the younger angel. The younger angel who was naked in only a sheet and sitting on their bed. He couldn't even finish his sentence.
Samandriel too blanched, squeaked and really, profoundly hated his life.
“Really?” Dean asked, muscle in his jaw twitching while he glared at Cas, pointedly ignoring the twink on the bed. “Because that sure as fuck looks like a naked teenager on our bed. What the hell did I tell you about him?”
It was very unfortunate most of the time that whenever Dean was involved, Castiel seemed to lose all sense of anyone else. His eyes remained on Dean, and only Dean, not once did he look over at the younger boy. In this instance, it was probably a good thing that he didn't.
"Not to -- You said not to touch him." Feeling nearly ill, the brunet angel had to reach out and grab the frame of the bathroom door in order to keep steady. "I didn't. Dean. He just -- we were talking. He was troubled."
See, Cas looked very much like a man who had left a situation because it was getting to him. Dean was intimately familiar with how Cas dealt with early stages of things getting sexual. The way the kid was holding the sheet? Yeah, that was someone trying very much to hide his boner. What? Dean’d been that age once too.
Angry beyond all reason, Dean found himself stalking over to Cas, knotting fingers in his hair and forcing him to look at Samandriel. He put his back to the boy and spoke low and commanding against his angel’s ear.
“That doesn’t look like talking,” he said. “That looks like a kid with an angel fetish and a submissive streak bigger than yours about ready to figure out the best way to start begging.”
Samandriel could hear him. It wouldn’t have mattered how lowly Dean spoke, Samandriel would’ve heard. He could feel his chest constricting, the heat returning to his face. His eyes were on Castiel’s, almost as though Dean’s command was meant for him too. Disobeying Michael’s vessel seemed as much an impossibility as disobeying any archangel as though Michael might come at any moment and take what was his and end poor little Samandriel who just wanted to be Good and put beauty in the world. Caught between a rock and a hard place indeed.
Staring at Samandriel only lasted a moment, Castiel's expression one of ruin and eyes nearly too wide. He forced himself to close them because he just couldn't look anymore. He couldn't face the fact that maybe Dean was speaking a complete truth, and that most of the signs that he'd been oblivious to earlier were rearing forward and making themselves known.
Dean's fingers in his hair hurt, and Castiel was shocked and disgusted with himself for thinking even for a second that this was something he should get excited about. It was curbed as soon as he got a handle of himself, just a little piece of himself that he could stick inside a box in his mind and keep there. He licked his lips, exhaled slowly and stood a little straighter to ease the tug on his hair.
"It wasn't like that," he said again, and hoped it wasn't a lie. It had been an accident. He hadn't known. "Samandriel got his wings, and he was worried."
Dean held tighter to Castiel’s hair, pushed downward as if on his knees was exactly where Castiel needed to be right then. Dean was livid and in his eyes, Cas didn’t have a leg to stand on. “Look at the boy,” he commanded, pulling Cas’ head back once he finally got him on his knees to direct him exactly where he wanted him. This was as much about showing Samandriel who was in charge here as it was Castiel.
Dizzy with shame and humiliation and something else that he'd been sure he boxed away only seconds before, Cas found it almost laughable that for a split second he was glad for Dean's grip in his hair. At the very least, it kept him from falling over.
Cas did as told though, opening those too blue eyes to meet with Samandriel's, hoping terribly that they conveyed an apology and not something else completely.
Oh he and Castiel were in a right mess, weren’t they? Eyes locked together, Samandriel knew that they were in the same boat, distressingly turned on. Dean, it would seem, burned hot when he was angry, a heat and light that you couldn’t run from. Samandriel knew Lucifer ran cold. He hadn’t been in the presence of that anger, but he knew instinctively.
Unconsciously, his wings shifted as though he were trying to present a more pleasing image to the archangels who weren’t even there. He hadn’t been given permission to speak so he didn’t. The faintest glimmer of dawn arced behind him, his wings caught just barely on the edge of visible to the right eyes.
Dean positioned himself behind Castiel, kept the back of his angel’s head pressed against the zipper of his jeans. At that angle, he could look down and see just how turned on Castiel was. Oh this was interesting, wasn’t it?
“Stand up, boy,” he said, and didn’t even have to look up to know that Samandriel obeyed immediately. He did glance though, to look at where he was, to give Samandriel a dark, dangerous look and check the drape of that sheet.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Castiel?” That sheet was hiding absolutely nothing. The boy could have dropped it and it would have mattered not at all. Almost like Castiel’s perfectly fitted slacks mattered not at all.
There should have been absolutely no way that this was arousing. This moment of complete frustration and embarrassment should not have possibly done this to him. Confused, Castiel attempted to swallow down the lump of anxiety in his throat - hyper aware of his positioning on the floor, head against Dean's groin.
To his credit, he did not look away from Samandriel and further encourage Dean's anger.
To his discredit, he had absolutely no idea what he had to say for himself. This had all started out so innocently, he'd just been trying to be a decent brother -- the topic of their conversation there like a mocking sunset. A sunset that Dean, clearly, could not see. "I'm sorry," he said, voice a complete wreck. It probably wasn't enough, but it was better than the silence he'd been able to come up with before that.
“No, gorgeous, you’re not sorry yet,” Dean said darkly. He looked up at Samandriel and, oh lovely, the kid had his phone.
“Come here, boy.” He watched as Samandriel walked as best he could forward, and listened really disturbingly well to where Dean pointed at him to be. Right there, hard line of his cock only inches away from Castiel’s face.
“Phone,” Dean demanded, and Samandriel, trembling, put it in his open palm.
To Dean’s credit, he was getting better at doing things one handed. He found Lucifer’s number rather easily and called.
When the other man picked up, Dean wasted no time in disabusing him of the notion that it might be Samandriel on the other end.
“Your boy is in my house wearing only what I think is your sheet. I need to know what my limits are for teaching him a lesson.”
There was a further silence on the line, Lucifer obviously a bit taken aback at hearing the voice of one Dean Winchester as opposed to Samandriel. After a moment (Castiel stilling completely and staring at Samandriel in something like horror, and ears straining) he sighed. "Let me speak with him."
“I’m putting you on speaker,” Dean said, mashing the proper button and holding the phone so Samandriel could hear and be heard.
“I’m sorry,” was the first phrase out of Samandriel’s mouth. Speaking was more than difficult when he could feel Castiel’s breath on his crotch and Dean was looking at him like he might literally tear him apart.
"I warned you, Samandriel. We've had this conversation before, haven't we?" Lucifer was annoyed for several reasons -- that he'd had to actually go upstairs to his office during work for a call like this was only one of them.
"Do you accept that you deserve any punishment coming to you?"
Lucifer's voice was tinny over the little speakers, but audible, and Castiel felt his heart sinking slightly at the words there. There wasn't any way he was going to be able to make this up to his little brother. Carefully, so carefully, he tried turning his head away from the erection mere spaces from his face.
It did not occur to him that he could stop this by standing up and demanding an end to it. It did not occur to him that he didn't want to do that.
Dean’s grip tightened in Castiel’s hair, his wrist tensing up as a warning for the angel on his knees to stay exactly where he was put.
“Yes, Lucifer,” Samandriel said, torn between absolutely turned on and dreading what Lucifer had in mind for him. Perhaps Lucifer might actually be willing to listen. It seemed like a longshot, but he could hope that it was going to happen, that maybe Lucifer wouldn’t make him cry too much for this.
Lucifer was silent on the other end of the line again, seconds too long. That in itself was a bit of a punishment for Samandriel, most likely. Finally, he spoke. "No fucking. No marks that would be visible in public or lasting." He paused, massaging the spot at the bridge of his nose. "Samandriel? You'll follow his orders like they were my own. And I expect a full report about this as well as your indiscretion when it's through, do you understand?" He made no note about further punishment, but that didn't mean the threat wasn't there.
Castiel was doing his best to sit still and not let the sheer amount of emotion running through him get the best of him. His eyes were burning almost as much as his face was, and he didn't quite realize that he was making a whimpering noise in the back of his throat.
“Yes, Lucifer,” Samandriel said, unable to look away from Dean, fingers twitching for want of touching the other angel.
“Understood, thank you,” Dean replied and disconnected the phone, tossing it over to land on the reading chair in the corner that was less for reading and more for other things. He eased his fingers out of Castiel’s hair and cupped under his chin, tilting his head up to find a differently painful way of controlling his angel’s head. He met Castiel’s eyes. “Get up and take your clothes off.”
He stepped away from where he was straddling Castiel’s legs and walked over to the bed. Blankets and pillows went immediately on the floor. Dean wanted an unobstructed view and to make it easier to change the sheets before they went to bed.
“Boy, take the sheet off and stay where you are.” Samandriel’s sheet hit the floor, and Dean grabbed it and set that aside too so it would be easier for the boy to take back with him. He moved the armchair to have a very, very good view of what he’d be directing, set the phone on the silk sheet and sat, in command without having to stand.
The elder angel stood slowly -- unsteady on his feet, fingers shaking enough where he had trouble with both the knot of his tie and the buttons of his shirt.
He looked a little like he wanted to protest, weep or possibly beg. Maybe all three at once. Wisely, he said nothing even as he slipped his shirt off of his shoulders and then moved slow hands down to the fastening of his slacks.
This humiliation was punishment enough, wasn't it? Castiel wished tremendously that this was not something he found arousing. This could not have possibly been normal, and he should not be so terribly depraved a human being or angel.
Dean stretched out his legs, sitting casual as could be while he watched them. “What makes you think, Castiel, that now is a time when I want you to take your clothes off slowly?” he asked. “Get your clothes off and touch the boy.”
He spoke then to Samandriel without looking at him. “Boy, your hands stay at your sides until I tell you you can move them.”
Castiel finished stripping in record time, if only because he knew that he was going to further disappoint Dean, and probably soon. He may as well get some points for being well behaved in some areas. He even let his clothing pile up on the floor, although it pained him to do so.
Eyes on Dean, Cas offered him an imploring look. "Dean, please." He didn't want to touch the other angel, someone he considered a brother, and someone he was not attracted to. Not that Samandriel wasn't lovely. He just Wasn't Dean.
“I gave you an order, Castiel,” Dean said, voice cutting through that name in very clear warning. “Above the waist. Tease him. Don’t kiss him yet.”
Samandriel thought he might pass out from all the conflicting feelings running through him. He wanted desperately to please both of them, to please Lucifer by proxy with good behavior, but he was mortified being presented for someone else’s pleasure like this. Mortified even more that he was getting off on that feeling. The wings were gone again.
Castiel's expression turned into pained resignation, and even he was sort of aware how awful that must have been for Samandriel. It was like rejection, in a way. No one should have had to feel like that, especially in a moment like this.
Unfortunately, he couldn't quite wipe it away, even as he stepped closer to the younger man, letting normally (but not currently) sure fingers slide up the boy's sides. It felt stiff and unnatural, and he wasn't sure how to fix that. Or the fact that his erection really was not subsiding, and seriously, how even?
Samandriel ducked his head a little so he didn’t have to look at Castiel’s face, at the way he clearly wasn’t wanted. If he weren’t still red, he’d be turning that all over again. Shame, it seemed, suited angels all too well.
“Castiel,” he whispered, voice tight with his need to be wanted or at least appreciated even a little bit. “Please.”
Dean arched a brow, but got up smoothly anyway. Cas was going to need some help on this and Dean would just have to oblige. He stepped up behind his seraph, let him feel the erection through his jeans in the cleft of his ass. “Watching you please him is pleasing to me,” he said lowly, breath hot on Castiel’s neck near his ear. “Want him, because wanting him right now is going to get you rewarded. Do you understand, gorgeous?”
Closing his eyes only long enough for it to seem like a slow blink, Castiel nodded. "Yes, Dean." But he didn't understand, not really. He got it well enough on a basic level, of course - enough where his response was not a lie. Emotionally, though, he was lost.
It didn't seem to matter. Dean's erection, even through a layer of clothing, was nearly a comfort, and he took it to heart enough to allow himself to look up at Samandriel again, expression thoughtful and apologetic. He let his hands brush over the younger angel's skin fully, tracing lines of ribs and muscle before brushing his thumbs over the boy's nipples. It was hopefully clear he was making a harder effort.
“Good,” Dean said, brushing a kiss and a gentle bite against the back of Castiel’s neck. He pulled away and went back to his chair. He watched them, this was definitely better, the tiny whimpers coming from Samandriel a definite improvement.
“Look at him, boy,” Dean said, and Samandriel obeyed, making eye contact with the other angel.
Eye contact remained important, and Castiel meant to keep it -- if only because it was what Dean was asking for. His neck was still tingling from the touch of Dean's lips, and although he wanted nothing more than he wanted more of that, he continued with his given task.
Dean had said no kissing, but that didn't mean he couldn't use his tongue. Cas bent down, keeping his eyes locked with Samandriel until he was no longer able, and then lapped at the skin on the boy's collar bone and worked his way downward.
That was much more like it. Dean settled back to enjoy himself.
Samandriel found it very, very challenging to keep his hands to himself.
“Kiss him,” Dean commanded gently to Castiel. “And then put him on his back on the bed.”
Castiel was of the impression that Dean liked making everything very, very difficult for him. He wasn't as naturally pliant as Samandriel seemed to be, and every single command was a challenge, an effort at learning and being better than before.
He stood straighter, cupping Samandriel's cheek in the palm of his hand and kissing him intently. It wasn't the same, because Dean was tall where Samandriel was short, but Cas liked to think he was good enough at this where it would be alright. He multitasked, inching the boy toward the bed as they kissed.
Dean smirked to himself while he watched that. Cas was like poetry when he moved and poor Samandriel was having such an awful time keeping his hands to himself. He let the boy keep suffering right up until Cas had him on his back and Samandriel looked like he might fidget his fingers right off.
“Straddle him,” Dean said to Castiel, “sit straight up and move like you were riding me.”
Dean looked over at poor, desperate Samandriel and said, “You may touch him now, boy. Anywhere. Explore all you want, the both of you, but only with your hands. I don’t want to see mouths involved in this at all and Cas, gorgeous, you know how I love to hear you talk. Tell me what he feels like and I swear to god you do not get to compare him to me.”
Straddling Samandriel was possibly the hardest thing Cas had ever had to to up until this point, and Cas felt silly about it, but there was a stinging in his eyes that he had to blink away lest it fester and turn into tears. That was the last thing he needed while warring with the fact that he was even aroused, and so he ignored it, straightening his posture and rolling his hips in a way he hoped might be languid.
For the moment, he settled his hands on the spot right above Samandriel's hips, fingers digging into the skin there. The angel licked his lips, and considered his words carefully. How could he not compare the younger boy to Dean, when Dean was all Castiel knew? Was all he wanted to know? "He's -- his skin is soft," he murmured out, finally. He was well aware that being forced to talk was a punishment.
Samandriel gasped sharply, and since he wasn’t told to be quiet at all, he let himself whine and give Castiel soft sounds of approval for what he was doing. Never before had he thought he might have a desire to be in someone else, but here on his back and out of his own control, he would do it. Every shift of Castiel’s body against his cock made it that much more difficult.
He held his hips still, but his hands found Castiel’s thighs, moved slow and tentatively up his body. He traced those hipbones, forced himself to skim upward to touch warm skin and dark nipples, to learn muscles that seemed so very out of place on an insurance agent. His arms weren’t long enough to reach much higher than that, so with the one furthest from Dean finding a place to rest on Castiel’s hip, the fingertips of the other ghosted down his chest and eventually curled around his cock. The rocking motion of Cas’ hips kept Samandriel from having to focus too much on matching anyone’s pace. He was content for now to just let Cas rock into the relatively loose circle of his fingers.
“Gonna need you to talk more than that, Castiel,” Dean replied, unbuttoning and slowly unzipping his own jeans. He rubbed himself casually through the fabric of his boxerbriefs.
The noise that Castiel made for being touched like this was a low, keening one, and he had to try and swallow it back down in order to stop -- his throat nearly hurt for the effort. His erection and body were betraying him stupidly though, as he rolled his hips harder against Samandriel's cock, thrusting harder into those lose, velvety fingers.
He wanted--
Well, he wasn't sure what he wanted. He knew it shouldn't be this. And yet here they were.
"Smooth," he ground out when he remembered he should be talking. "But also sharp. Oh." He practically sobbed over it all. "You're so hard it must be painful," he told Samandriel, and knew it must be the case because he knew that was how he felt.
Now, Dean had every intention of making these two play with each other for a good, long while. A long while. This wasn’t going to be a brief encounter at all, and no one was going to come until the end of it. Well, almost no one.
So, Dean got up and went to grab a rubbermaid out of the closet, a few things he’d picked up because he knew he’d want them. He took his jeans off the rest of the way as long as he was up. When he came back, he had two cock rings, both still in their packaging. One had originally been meant for him, but he could replace that easily and just let the boy keep the one he was getting tonight.
“On your back, Castiel,” Dean said, walking towards them. When Cas moved, Dean set one package on his husband’s chest. “Don’t move, and don’t take your eyes off me.” The reward would come for Cas after Dean was done with Samandriel.
He focused his attention on getting the first package open. Once he did, he reached down to pump Samandriel’s cock a few times, just enough, it seemed to get him all wet at the tip. “Do you know what this is?” he asked the boy. Samandriel nodded, hips unable to stop rocking up towards Dean’s hand. “Good.”
Dean fastened the leather tightly on him, tugged his balls a bit to check the fit and nodded in approval when Samandriel made an absolutely desperate noise. Cas might’ve thought all that was the awful part, but that truly came when Dean bent and took Samandriel in his mouth, eyes ever on Castiel and not the boy he was fellating. He kept going for a little bit, making sure that the boy was good and wet and absolutely wrecked, already crying out and feeling how hard his body wanted to come but couldn’t.
The message was clear. Right now, Samandriel was his, and he would play with the boy as he liked just as he played with Castiel as he liked.
Now Castiel couldn't help his tears. He really did try, but maintaining eye contact with Dean meant that he hadn't been able to close or blink them well enough to stop it. Cas couldn't understand this -- the fact that he felt so disgustingly jealous of Samandriel, of that fact this his husband had his mouth around someone else's cock -- that someone else was getting attention that was rightly his.
And that Dean looked beautiful while he was doing it. That Samandriel's moans and whines were going straight to his groin, because he knew how gifted Dean was, knew what it felt like to have a reason to make those noises.
He wrung his hands at his sides and bit his lower lip hard enough to break the skin. God help him, he was fairly certain he liked this.
Dean pulled away with a positively pornographic sound (and he was well learned in those noises,) and walked to the other side of the bed. “Now, now,” he said cupping Castiel’s cheek and then wiping the spot where skin was broken with his thumb.
“No need for that, beautiful boy,” he said. Samandriel was breathing hard next to them, clearly having the hardest of times focusing on anything, but watching just the same.
He undid the packaging for Cas, and instead of the swift strokes he’d given Samandriel, touched Castiel with a slow sort of appreciation. He fastened the ring with that same sort of test, wanting Castiel wanting it. Desperate for it. He didn’t suck Castiel off, but instead, pressed a kiss to the very tip of his cock, a promise for something later if he stayed good.
Dean went back to his chair. He took off his underwear and his t-shirt and sat down, legs spread wide and cock proud between them.
“Both of you come here. My cock isn’t going to suck itself. Now play nice and share.”
It was almost torture for Samandriel to move, but he managed, trying to stay a little bit behind Castiel even though he was already closer to Dean. It seemed to make the most sense. If there were hierarchy in the room, Castiel was certainly above him.
Castiel wasn't thinking things about hierarchies. He was thinking about how his face was still wet, and how his eyes were betraying him. About how he was still jealous over Samandriel getting something from Dean's mouth that he hadn't.
It was painful to move with this thing on, and he decided he very much hated it.
But that didn't stop him from kneeling on the floor in front of Dean, leaving some space for Samandriel, and looking up at his husband with an adoration that would have floored lesser men.
Dean liked that look on Castiel. It was much better than the pain of earlier, like his husband really had decided that he liked this and Dean was right all along. It was good. Dean threaded his fingers through Castiel’s hair, wiped the tears from one eye with his thumb and decided that yes, Cas was definitely getting a reward for good behavior.
“Go on,” he said.
Samandriel hadn’t done this much. Okay, he’d done it once, and it kind of intimidated him still. Not to mention that Dean wasn’t exactly his type, but he was doing this not only because he’d somehow gotten himself into this mess, but because Lucifer bid him listen to this man. He hadn’t even fully realized yet how much easier it was to be around Dean right now with Dean calling the shots and acting like the only reason the mark of Castiel’s Grace was so firmly on him was because Dean himself allowed it to be.
Tentatively, he leaned in and worked at the base of Dean’s cock, allowing Castiel not only the other side, but the top half as well. The space between Dean’s legs was cramped, their thighs touching the whole way down and Samandriel wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the hand that was next to Castiel’s.
Fortunately, Dean answered that confusion with a simple command.
“Touch each other.”
It was easier to concentrate once Dean had gifted him with a look that he hoped was forgiveness. Also, easier with something he knew in front of him -- even if he was sharing the space with Samandriel, Cas was nearly greedy in the way he took Dean's cock into his mouth, tongue twisting and tasting what was his.
And then Dean had to go and include more demands of discomfort, because clearly Castiel couldn't get a break, couldn't just do this one thing that he might have just loved to do all day if he was allowed. The brunet angel whimpered softly and closed his eyes, letting his right hand drift over, finding Samandriel and running his fingers down that too thin frame until he found exactly what he knew he was meant to be touching.
“Good boys,” Dean said, groaning and relaxing into it. He stroked both their hair, Castiel a bit more than the boy, but that was mostly because it was a bit easier to get at Cas. Cas really was good at this, all enthusiasm and possessiveness. It was nice. Two mouths were definitely better than one, and having two to cater to his whims was a thing he could see himself indulging on occasion. A sober threesome was way different than a drunk one.
Samandriel was almost overwhelmed with sensations, the smell of both Dean and Castiel while he was practically sandwiched between the two of them filled up his nostrils. The man’s skin was all he could taste, completely different than Lucifer, less refined and far more rugged. Like Dean belonged outdoors doing stereotypically manly things.
He wasn’t sure if it would be okay, but he managed anyway to shift and take Dean’s balls in his mouth, to suck on those while he stroked Castiel and tried so very hard not to cry with how much he ached to come.
The way Dean’s fingers curled in his hair tightly and refused to let him pull away much at all said that this was alright. The way he could hear nothing but the noises the pair of them were making in his ears and slightly more distantly Dean’s as well, said that maybe Cas liked it too.
Cas did like it. But he didn't like that he liked it. It was a very strange position to be in, and he was sure he'd lose sleep over it later, among other things. But for now, it was just easier to go with it all, because kicking and dragging his heels in the dirt would only incur the wrath of his husband later on. It didn't hurt that the crying had sort of evened out his mood a bit (another thing he found odd, but was not going to question).
He loved being complimented, and loved that Dean was petting his hair -- even that was a reassuring gesture right now, something that made it a little easier to ignore the insistent something in his own groin. Nearly hurt, really. He wasn't a teenager, and probably felt it much less intensely than Samandriel might, but it still wasn't something he considered pleasant.
He knelt a little higher, arching his back in order to get proper leverage on Dean's cock, bobbing up and down enough where it counted as a stroke against Samandriel's erection, as well. No one could ever say that Castiel wasn't naturally talented.
Samandriel likely knew Dean was going to come before Castiel did. He felt him tense up first and kept working through it, wanted Dean to feel good, to have good things to say about him when Lucifer checked in. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone.
Dean was definitely not disappointed. He gripped both those boys tight, kept their heads exactly where he wanted them and came into Castiel’s mouth, had his cock positioned in such a way that some would no doubt leak out of his husband’s mouth.
He let go of Samandriel’s head and pulled Cas the rest of the way off. “Clean him up, boy,” Dean managed gruffly.
Samandriel had too many hormones speeding through him to do anything but obey, catching the bits that escaped and then kissing Castiel with the same kind of passion he played music with.
Once he'd swallowed properly, and found himself being licked and kissed clean, Cas whimpered and moaned soft little noises into Samandriel's mouth, returning the kiss with the earnest eagerness that he always seemed to be able to manage -- as if every kiss was the first and he wanted to make it the absolute best. That it wasn't his husband he was kissing was -- well, strange -- but something he found he could live with if only because it clearly pleased Dean.
And he only wanted to please Dean.
God, they were gorgeous together now that they had finally relaxed into this. Dean watched with a hazy sort of pride while they kissed, Samandriel throwing himself into it with the kind of enthusiasm only someone that young could manage. Lucifer had taught him well, at least, when it came to that. He didn’t seem to be sloppy or unskilled at all, just so willing.
“Back on the bed pretty birds,” he said, stroking his hands over both their hair. “I think Cas could really use his dick sucked.”
Samandriel nodded, flush with pride at the compliment. He got up and waited for Castiel to move onto the bed, almost surprised when Dean got up to follow them.
The older angel was unsteady on his feet, embarrassingly slow going when it came from gaping the short distance from chair to the bed. He made it though, and was quietly proud of himself for it, even as he gingerly seated himself on the edge of the bed, eyes pausing on Samandriel for a moment before focusing solely on Dean again. He sometimes thought it unfair how much of his heart Dean had taken and kept. It was distracting and so very different from the life he'd had before.
He licked his lips, made a little sound that was maybe a sigh or a whimper and looked both inquisitive and concerned about what might be coming next.
Dean guided him to lying down and sat near Castiel’s head, still toying with his hair because his husband’s hair was very, very nice. He motioned for Samandriel to get to it, and was pleased when it seemed like the boy was good at taking his time.
“Talk, Castiel,” he murmured again, stretching out one leg next to him on the bed, and then crossing the other over it at the ankle. Hey, might as well get comfy while he waited to get hard again. “Tell me how badly you want to come. Tell me what you’d do.”
Immediately, Cas was unsure what he should be doing with his hands. It was a very strange, very awkward thought to be having, but there it was. He lifted them in a vague gesture of confusion before touching his fingertips almost tentatively to Samandriel's head.
His gaze was only for Dean, head tilted back some in order to maintain it, and mouth parted just so, as if he were really just that receptive to the mouth around his dick. Samandriel's mouth. Which was hot, wet and working with slow diligence. Not Dean's, though.
Castiel hated talking. He hated it almost as much as he hated the cock ring. Maybe more, actually, because he knew his lack of words was his own fault, and nothing else. "Dean," his voice cracked slightly and only furthered his humiliation. "Anything. Anything you want." It was always going to come down to that.
“Slow down, Samandriel,” Dean said, glancing at the boy. The younger angel looked up, acknowledging the order and then worked almost painfully slow on Cas’ dick. Those lips and tongue took their time learning, fingers doing due diligence as well and Dean couldn’t help but be a little proud.
“Examples, Castiel,” he murmured, “and keep your hand in his hair.” His fingers wandered along Cas’ body, teasing gently. He loved him. He wanted that known in all those little touches. Cas needed that. “Tell me what I’d get out of letting you come. What would the boy get?”
The appreciative loving touches were helping somewhat, but that didn't mean Cas wasn't completely lost in feeling and emotion by this point anyway. Samandriel's mouth on him wasn't Dean's, but that didn't mean it wasn't good.
His fingers curled further into Samandriel's hair, almost tightly, and he had to resist the urge to wriggle on the bed, to move his hips into it in a silent demand for something harder and faster. It was harder than it should have been.
At some point his breathing had gone erratic, and even now he had to fight with himself to calm down, lest he burst into confused tears all over again. "Dean," he repeated, as if that were the answer his husband was looking for. It wasn't. He knew that. But he was only Thursday, and not Imagination, this was more difficult for him than Dean could possibly know. "I'll be better," he promised. "I'll -- my mouth again. On both." He gasped, feeling stupid and lacking and so sickly desperate he wished he could just come up with something better. "Please, Dean."
Dean could see that, but he had plans for when Cas got his orgasm and it wouldn’t be just yet.
“Stop, Samandriel,” he said. The boy did, and breathing heavily, looked up at Dean. “Do what Cas was doing to you when you were on your back. Make it good.” He looked over at Castiel while he stroked himself back to hardness and got off the bed. “When you’re both completely desperate, you roll him over and fuck your cocks together like you mean it. I want to watch you two lose yourselves in each other before that. I want you kissing and groping and forgetting which parts of you belong to who. You’ll do it because it pleases me, and you’ll love every second of it.”
Dean moved back to the chair. Samandriel took up his instructed position, straddling Castiel’s wet cock and rolling his ass down against it. This was pure torture for a young man who knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t actually getting fucked. It was a good thing that Dean wanted them kissing, because Samandriel knew he couldn’t hold himself upright. He managed to catch himself on his hand near Cas’ shoulder, completely under the impression that the other angel was the one meant to close that gap.
Castiel was busy thinking about how unfair the world seemed right now. An angel of heaven made to beg, and then to be turned down, as if he'd failed at doing it properly. It sort of hurt, in his gut. Unless that was just the butterflies in his stomach and his unappeasable hard on making itself further known. Probably that. Maybe.
He cried out when Samandriel figured out just how to move his hips properly -- he couldn't even remember that he ought to be giving the little angel apologetic looks (this was his own fault, Dean had warned him), only pulled him closer, fingers grasping for shoulders and then sliding down to the small of the younger man's back. Kissing was easy, he even liked it -- that it gave him something to focus on, a spot to place all his little moans and begging noises into. Maybe Samandriel could swallow them up, and Dean would never know the difference.
Samandriel was easily lost to those kisses, drinking in Castiel’s sounds and giving back his own. The angle shifted and Samandriel hated that he still hadn’t come. He hurt. He yielded to Castiel anyway, arching where his hands moved and hips grinding a bit more intently down at him. He didn’t know what he was doing. He just needed to do it and hopefully do it well.
While those two were making a very, very pretty picture, Dean pulled the new tube of lube he’d got out of his bag and waited for Castiel to take control of the situation.
The kissing was good, but after a time the older angel was fairly certain that if he left Samandriel to his own means for too much longer, he was going to be rubbed raw in a very, very uncomfortable place. This was bad enough as it was, and not being able to walk or sit still tomorrow at work was one of those things that he considered unacceptable.
It was gradual. He kissed and touched and wiggled and writhed underneath the other man until somehow they were both on their sides instead -- and then it was easier, more relieving and Cas stayed like that for a moment, panting hotly into Samandriel's mouth. He might have just opted to stay there and wait it out if he hadn't known Dean expected more from him than his. With a whimper, he rolled up, stealing the place that Samandriel had just had, and ground his hips hard against the other angel's.
Castiel had always been of the opinion that if he was going to do something, he was going to do it as well as possible.
Having Castiel between his legs like this was more than Samandriel thought he could handle. He cried out, and for a moment realized he’d completely forgotten about Dean until suddenly there was a large squirt of lube between them, and their cocks were getting distressingly slick against each other and oh, god. “Please,” Samandriel cried out. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. How Castiel was managing, he’d never know.
There was a reason that Dean wanted Cas exactly like this, all bent over Samandriel and rutting his hips forward. That reason had quite a bit to do with getting on the bed behind him, dribbling lube from his lower back and down the crack of his ass and watching Cas’ body language when he realized exactly what was happening. This was his reward. One slick finger in his ass, and Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to keep two and three from following it shortly thereafter.
Just barely, had Cas been managing before. He felt hyper sensitive and overblown with feeling to the point that if Dean had asked him to talk now, he knew he wouldn't be able to.
As it was, Dean's oncoming reward was enough to make him cry out, moaning low and throaty noises and somehow still appearing to be shocked when those fingers slipped into him. He thrust into them, tilting his hips up and back with hopeless need -- only too aware that it was making his own cock, slippery with lube, against Samandriel's. It was enough to make him forget how to breathe, bright blue eyes locking with the other angels, but not really seeing.
Dean barely gave him any prep time, he did the best he could, but there was no way that Cas was going to have much patience with him for longer. So all slicked up and as stretched as either of them could stand it, Dean took his husband. Not only did he take Cas, but he pulled him back up to near sitting in his lap at just enough of an angle where Dean could still fuck hard into him, could stroke that now slick cock.
“On your knees in front of him, boy,” Dean growled. “And close your eyes.” He bit Castiel’s earlobe. The rewards were twofold, getting to finally come and Dean’s cock. The final pieces of his punishment were bound up in that.
“Keep your eyes on his face, gorgeous,” Dean said, wanting the image of Samandriel’s face spattered with his come to be seared into Castiel’s brain.
Once all orders were followed, one deft hand undid Castiel’s cockring.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.
Castiel came almost immediately upon being freed, and it'd been held in for so long that it was nearly ripped from him, hard enough to make him feel dizzy and completely lost. He gasped (Dean's name. Always Dean's name), lost his breath completely and clawed at Dean's hand, as if his husband might help him somehow -- might be able to keep him still and balanced even as Cas forced himself down harder onto his cock.
Even then, he didn't take his eyes away from his poor little brother, who'd been forced to just sit and take it. Castiel felt sick with guilt and relief all at the same time.
“Open your eyes, boy,” Dean said. He’d been in that position before. The kid would be fine. Thrusting a few more times into Castiel, Dean came, biting down hard on the elder angel’s shoulder to muffle the noise in his throat. He gave himself a beat, just a beat to catch his breath before he eased out and spoke against Castiel’s ear.
“Suck the boy off. Swallow.” It wouldn’t take long, which was probably a blessing for all of them. “Kiss him after.”
It took Cas a second, his everything was still trying to catch up with everything else, but he managed a little nod. His fingers were oddly steady as he managed to undo that little offending bit of non-jewelry on Samandriel, and then easily (too easily) took the boy's cock into his mouth and sucked in wet earnest.
Castiel didn’t have to suck very long, or even very hard. All it took was the smallest bit of attention and freedom and Samandriel was coming into that mouth. Castiel’s name was on his lips, a near raw shout of relief and praise that Samandriel couldn’t contain. He thought he might black out. He worried that maybe he had for all that nothing made sense and his face was covered in drying bits of come and humiliation. But he liked it. That Lucifer wasn’t there was what made it wrong, but there was no way that anyone could be disappointed in his performance just then, or since permission had been granted in the first place.
Samandriel smiled almost drunkenly. He was still Good.
Cas swallowed with Samandriel's cock still in his mouth, milking and licking it clean at the same time before he pulled back enough to sit up -- he only swayed slightly, before leaning forward to kiss the other angel as he'd been directed to do. It was a slower kiss, less intense now that his needs had been seen to, but still properly good in its own right.
Dean was even more pleased that Cas did things completely. He’d half expected an almost petulant swallow and be done with it. He let them kiss for a bit, let Samandriel enjoy that feeling of Castiel kissing like he had all the time in the world. He went and set his husband’s cockring in the drawer with the bottle of lube (because he really wasn’t in the mood for Cas to get stressed out about that,) and then walked back over to them.
His fingers carded through Castiel’s hair, drawing him away from a kiss that had gone on just long enough.
“Well done, both of you.” He wiped a bit of come off of Castiel’s chin. “Now. Next time? Get the kid a robe or something, don’t hang out in the bedroom, and text me to let me know he’s here. Got it?”
Exhausted, and debauched (thoroughly,) Samandriel didn’t notice when it happened that Dean had put his phone and sheet in reach, but he was glad for it. He didn’t think about it before it happened, but he supposed he didn’t need to. The issue had been forgiven and he wanted to wash his face (and the rest of him,) and lie in a bed that smelled of Lucifer instead of these two. And so Samandriel went home, the sound of wings announcing his departure as surely as his absence.
“Friggen angels,” Dean said, rolling his eyes, but clearly not upset.
Cas only nodded at the new set of rules. Rules that made sense (although he had been trying to give Samandriel clothes in the first place. Not that he was going to argue), and were fair. He seemed wholly unsurprised when Samandriel flew off, not even really blinking over it before leaning heavily into Dean and burying his face in his husband's chest.
It'd been too much, and it was all taking it's toll now. Castiel was tired, and sore, and emotionally overwhelmed. He closed his eyes and just stayed where he was. "I think I'm going to be sick."