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A Supernatural Menagerie

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Dress for Success


Sam knew Dean and Castiel were fucking. They’d never told him, per se, but Sam knew. And it wasn’t because of any brotherly bond crap. It was because of clothing. Or rather, a lack of it.

It started with Castiel.

Sam was used to Castiel doing weird things in the bunker. Said things included but were not limited to, making pb and j’s and not eating them, reading books backwards, filling the coffee pot with honey, opening every single door in the bunker, and of course, walking around at night completely naked. The first time Sam caught him, he slopped tea all over his front. He took a steadying breath and politely informed Castiel that humans do not do this.

Then there was Dean.

Dean was the one who made Sam think it was all in his head. Dean always acted completely normal, until one night when Sam making tea.

Sam was walking out of the kitchen when Castiel passed him, butt-naked once again. Sam caught his tea and reminded Castiel that clothes exist and should be worn at all times. A half hour later, Sam was bringing his dishes back to the kitchen and found Dean drinking orange juice from the carton, standing in front of the refrigerator. Also naked. Sam shouted in surprise.

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam gawked at him.

Dean paused, then shrugged and finished the carton off.

“You can’t… just. Oh god.”

“God has left the building, Sammy.”

“Clearly.” Sam skirted around him like he was contagious and dropped his dishes in the sink.

“Hey, the human body is nothing to ashamed of. It’s a thing of beauty.” Dean informed him, “Don’t censor me.”

“I’m not, I…!” Sam blinked furiously, determinedly looking Dean in the eye, “I’m going to bed.”

“Fine.” Dean replied cheerily, “Goodnight.”

But before Sam could leave the kitchen, he bumped into Castiel in the doorway. Castiel wearing an old AC/DC shirt and jeans, and was barefoot. Sam and Dean both stared at him. It was just as jarring, if not more so, than walking in on someone naked.

“Hello, Sam.” Castiel said. He looked to Dean and, like Sam, found himself staring. Except Castiel’s eyes fell straight down, “Dean.” He greeted him stiffly.

Dean didn’t seem to care. He was in a daze. He’d never seen Castiel wearing those kind of clothes. His clothes.

“Cas that’s...” Sam started, “That’s not really what I meant...”

Castiel and Dean both ignored him.

Sam took a sharp breath, looking between them, “Mhm. Uh, um.” His expression fell, “Nope, not touching this. Goodnight.” He strode past Castiel and disappeared down the hall.

Dean cleared his throat and Castiel finally looked up.

“You should wear my stuff more often...” Dean said shakily, “Like, seriously. That’s fucking hot.”

Castiel squinted at him.

That’s when Sam reappeared, “Okay. New rule.” Dean rolled his eyes, “Clothes. You have to wear clothes. Both of you. All the time! I don’t care what you do behind closed doors but...” He sighed exasperatedly, “In the kitchen? C’mon.” He said, then left without another word.

Dean winked at Castiel.

Sam’s knowledge of Dean and Castiel’s relationship didn’t seem to hinder them at all. In fact, neither Winchester got much sleep that night.


Castiel sensed that the clothes thing was one of those ‘kinks’ Dean never clearly expressed but obviously enjoyed, so Castiel started wearing his shirts under his suits when they went out. On one particularly messy werewolf hunt, Castiel got injured and tore his suit. While Dean was fixing him up, he noticed his old Metallica shirt peaking out from beneath Castiel’s ripped button up. Dean froze.

They were in a dilapidated cabin deep in the words. Sam was out securing the perimeter. Castiel’s chest was heaving from the fight and he was flushed and roughed up. Combined with him secretly wearing Dean’s shirt, Dean couldn’t help himself. Once Castiel was bandaged, Dean jumped him. Soon Castiel’s suit things were on the floor and he’d been stripped to that Metallica shirt with his dress pants around his knees, and Dean was fucking him into the cabin floor.

It took a lot of practice to get good at fucking Castiel. Fortunately, Dean had a lot of practice. He knew exactly how fast and hard to thrust to get Castiel to start panting. Then he’d find that spot and Castiel would shudder and close his eyes. Once he started moaning Dean’s name and arching his back, Dean knew he was in the clear. He reared up and took control, working his hips rough and fast, twisting his hand over the hand of Cas’s leaking cock.

Sam heard Castiel shouting from a mile away and sprinted back to the cabin. All Dean heard was the door slamming open, a shotgun cocking, and then Sam sputtering in disbelief.

“Really? Goddamnit, Dean!” Sam exclaimed.

Dean covered their waists with the trench coat, “Five minutes, Sam, please.”

“Unbelievable.” Sam walked away, “I’m going to go burn my eyes out with holy fire.”

“Sam, no.” Castiel panted.

“He’s kidding.” Dean said, resuming his thrusts.

Castiel groaned and dropped his head on the floor.

“No, I’m not!” Sam’s voice shouted.

“Shut the door!” Dean yelled back, “Pervert!”

There was a flustered, indignant noise as Sam slammed the door shut and waited with his shotgun outside.

“Great plan, Dean.” Sam muttered to himself, “If another werewolf comes I’ll just tell them to form a queue. ‘Your murder is very important to us.’” Sam huffed, “Once my brother’s done getting ass we’ll be right with you.”

The next few hours were spent killing werewolves. By the time they were done the whole pack had been extinguished, and even Sam had to admit that Dean and Castiel were in rare form. So Sam decided he’d give them a break; that and start entering rooms with a hand over his eyes.


When they returned to the bunker Dean went to his room to get cleaned up and Sam started the laundry. He was able to get all of the blood stains out of Castiel’s suit, plus a stain Sam refused to let Castiel explain. They hadn’t been able to find the trenchcoat he’d been wearing, however, so Castiel went looking for it in Dean’s room. He found it.

On Dean.

Dean was sprawled out on his bed, naked except for the coat which he wore like a robe. An open robe.

“Oh hey.” Dean said, “Were you… looking for something?” He feigned looking around.

A smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. He licked his lips and joined Dean on the bed. Dean grinned.

Dean was pleased to see a fire in Castiel’s eyes as he drank in the sight before him. Castiel smoothed his hands up Dean’s body, from his thighs to his shoulders, tracing every line and muscle framed so perfectly by that open coat. Castiel’s coat.

“That’s...” Castiel rasped, “That’s not how you’re supposed to wear it.”

Dean closed his eyes and smiled, “You don’t seem to mind.” He could already feel Castiel’s growing erection pressing into his leg.

Castiel couldn’t deny that. Castiel stripped while Dean idly stroked himself, something he knew drove Castiel wild. Sure enough, once Castiel was naked he settled between Dean’s legs, captured Dean’s hands, and pinned them above his head.

Dean felt a jolt of arousal. He loved it when Castiel got like this.

Dean let Castiel fuck him in his trench coat, and was thrilled to find that Castiel took his time. Castiel was normally all instinct and passion when he topped, but tonight was different. Tonight he wanted to claim Dean; He wanted to mark him on the inside as completely as his trenchcoat did on the outside.

“Dean...” Castiel growled his name, “I think I understand now.”

“Do you?” Dean breathed. It took all his strength to speak with Castiel fucking the breath out of him. He didn’t bottom often, but when he did it reminded him just how awesome it was sleeping with an angel. Castiel was a force of nature, raw and powerful, ravaging Dean over and over again.

Castiel nodded, pupils blown and lips parted, “It’s… ‘fucking hot’.” He rasped. He swerved his hips and angled a thrust into Dean’s prostate. Dean moaned shamelessly. Castiel felt a rush of satisfaction as Dean’s witty retort fell apart on his lips. He wove their fingers together above Dean’s head, then proceeded to fuck him senseless for hours.

That night, Sam put on rain sounds before bed. He’d asked to borrow Dean’s noise canceling headphones earlier and, to his surprise, Dean complied readily. Sam tried not to think about it as he fell asleep.


In the morning, Sam was surprised to find Dean awake first. He was sipping coffee and sitting funny at the Men of Letter’s table, looking oddly at peace with the world. Sam poured himself a cup and joined Dean in silence.

“So...” Sam spoke up.

Dean glanced at him.

“How was your night?”

“Shut up.”

Sam smiled, “So, you realize that you’re… um. You and Cas. You know...”

Dean was barely awake, but he knew where this was going, “Don’t say it.”


Dean stared at Sam. Sam was trying, and failing, to hold back a grin. Finally, Dean cracked a smile, “Yeah. I know.”

They shared a mutual silence, both of them smiling to themselves.

“We should make bumper stickers.”

“No.” Dean said firmly.

Sam didn’t say another word. After all, what more could he want for his brother? And maybe, just maybe, the clothing thing was kind of cute. Kind of.


Chapter Text

Work, Work, Work


The only downside to dating Sam Winchester was that he was a very hard man to distract. For Sam, work came first and play second, and for a hunter, there was always work to do. Gabriel knew this, but he also suspected Sam had a weakness; Some secret vulnerability that would provoke Sam no matter how much work there was to be done. That’s why Gabriel was all over Sam every chance he got.

Gabriel was determined to find Sam’s weakness.

One rainy evening Sam and Gabriel were alone in a motel room tasked with researching an obscure type of monster. Sam was going through his laptop and notes at the desk while Gabriel was doing some research of his own. He leaned on the back of Sam’s chair and draped his arms around him, pretending to read over his shoulder. Sam didn’t get a page into the lore before Gabriel was sneaking a hand down the front of Sam’s pants. Sam told him to get serious, so Gabriel resorted to dirtier tactics.

Gabriel slipped under the desk and, in between a quote about soul eaters and how they lured their victims, Gabriel began sucking Sam’s dick. Sam dropped his notes.

“You’re not going to let me work, are you?” Sam took a shaky breath, his eyes closing in concentration.

There was a wet pop from under the desk, followed by Gabriel swirling his tongue around and around Sam’s head, “Nope.”

Operation Get Sammy on the Bed was a success, but there was indeed much more work to do. Gabriel removed Sam’s pants, shoved him on his back on the end of the bed, and resumed teasing the head of his cock with his tongue.

Sam enjoyed Gabriel’s teasing, so Gabriel used it to his advantage. He opened his mouth and licked up his shaft, breathing hotly over his head. Then he planted his lips down and kissed him, lapping his tongue over his slit. Gabriel knew from experience that all those little twitches and barely noticeable jerks Sam was doing were good signs. Sam had indeed forgotten the case, if only for a moment.

Gabriel swallowed up Sam in earnest and Sam sighed in pleasure. Gabriel smirked to himself. He massaged Sam’s balls and sucked him slowly, savoringly, like he was a particularly tasty piece of candy. Sam spread his legs absentmindedly and wove a hand through Gabriel’s head, losing himself in it. But then Gabriel popped off of him again.

The look Sam gave him was precious. Gabriel smirked wickedly, “What do you say we have some fun?”

Sam huffed breathlessly, “I am having fun.”

“I know...” Gabriel drew a finger up Sam’s cock.

“Plus.” Sam sighed, “We have a case. Since you seem to have forgotten in record time.”

There it was. The case. Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Can’t we do both?” Gabriel offered, leaning over Sam. He shared a kiss with him, loving the combined taste of Sam on his lips and tongue, “Trust me.” He purred.

“I do trust you.” Sam said breathlessly.

“Great!” Gabriel took that as permission and returned to Sam’s cock.

Sam licked his lips in amazement, but his unspoken criticism of Gabriel’s work ethic was swallowed up a moment later. Gabriel’s lips parted sinfully around Sam’s cock and Sam decided they had time enough for this. Gabriel bobbed up and down on him, making Sam’s hips rise and fall hungrily. But it didn’t last long. Gabriel gave him one tortuously long, toe curling suck then began kissing down his now throbbing cock.

“Go ahead, Sam. Tell about the soul eaters.” Gabriel buzzed against Sam’s cock.

Sam gave a pent up sigh, “You’re insane.” He smiled through his hands.

Gabriel chuckled and kissed down to his balls, sucking and nipping at them playfully.

“Soul eaters.” Sam said distractedly, “They uh… oh. Shit. T...they lure their victims into the nest and… jesuschrist.”

“Jesus Christ’s not part of the lore, Sammy.” Gabriel teased.

Sam let out a tense breath. Gabriel soothed him by stroking his cock with his hand while he toyed with his balls. It wasn’t enough to jerk Sam off, just to keep his flames burning white hot.

“You’re a monster.” Sam grinned.

Gabriel didn’t deny it. While Sam tried to remember what the fuck soul eaters did to their victims, Gabriel scooped his arms under Sam’s hips and brought his bottom half onto Gabriel’s lap. Sam wasn’t sure what Gabriel was up to, so he just tried to stay relaxed. It was incredibly hard to do, however, with Gabriel licking and nipping at such a sensitive area between his balls and ass. His muscles kept jumping uncontrollably, and Sam just knew Gabriel was loving it.

“So sensitive, Sam.” Gabriel purred. He hooked his elbow under Sam’s hip and brought his hand around Sam’s belly to keep stroking his cock, “You don’t get a lot of play back here, do you?”

Sam didn’t know if he should admit to that, but Gabriel didn’t seem to want a real answer. Gabriel was happy enough where he was.

“...They bring their victims to their nest and hold them there...” Sam remembered vaguely, “Then they… then trap them while they suck… oh god.”

Gabriel was loving this. He kissed under Sam’s balls, taking in his musk, then left a trail of kisses all the way down to…

“They suck out their soul and...” But Sam didn’t finished that sentence. Sam gasped in surprise, “Fuck...”

That was the reaction Gabriel had been waiting for. “They fuck, really?” Gabriel grinned against his entrance. He licked his lips, then flattened his tongue against that tight ring of muscle and licked all the way up to his balls. Sam gasped again, his muscles jumping, but he didn’t stop Gabriel. So Gabriel returned to Sam’s entrance, put his lips down, and sucked him like he had his head. Sam moaned.

Gabriel purred in pleasure. This was it. This was Sam’s weakness.

“Goddammit, Gabriel.” Sam whimpered, shifting his hips, his feet, anything to alleviate the mind-numbingly invasive sensations. Sam bit his lip, trying to keep himself still while Gabriel tongued him, but his expression said it all. He mouth was open, but he wasn’t talking about soul eaters any more. Every little flick and teasing press against his hole made Sam’s lips quiver and his breath leave him. And Gabriel knew it. Gabriel proceeded to flatten his tongue again and swirl it around Sam’s entrance.

“Fuck! Fuck… Gabriel.” Sam moaned.

Gabriel raised a brow at him innocently, “Should I stop?”

Sam couldn’t say it. It felt too good, “No keep going.” He said quickly.

Gabriel gave him a flirtatious look, then proceeded to eat Sam out from the back.

Sam was putty. Gabriel loved all the little sounds he was licking out of him, all the while stroking him so lazily that the only real relief was coming from his tongue.

Gabriel pulled Sam closer onto hip lap, holding him in a sort of backwards sit up position. Gabriel’s free hand sneaked up the underside of Sam’s thigh, spreading him open for Gabriel to lick all he wanted. Sam panted and sighed, feeling that stretch in his legs spread pleasure to his very core. Gabriel loved how flexible Sam was. He buried his lips in Sam and hummed, buzzing him and making Sam moan desperately.

Sam thought Gabriel had to be using some grace for this. There was no way a human could lick that deep. Before Sam realized it, his cock was leaking onto his stomach and he was trembling on the bed. Gabriel was fucking him with his tongue. It was oddest, most arousing sensation Sam had ever felt. He bucked weakly, trying to get the most out of it, which Gabriel was more than happy to give.

Gabriel went all out, stroking and eating him out while Sam held onto the covers, gasping in ecstasy. Once he started breathing Gabriel’s name, Gabriel knew it was time. He upped his efforts once again, stretching Sam even as his body hardened up in release. Sam moaned shamelessly and came white hot onto his stomach. Gabriel stroked and rimmed him through his orgasm, until Sam was a trembling, gasping mess.

Sam’s body went limp on Gabriel’s lap and Gabriel slowed his efforts. He licked him lazily, taking advantage of Sam’s post-orgasm sensitively to give him a little extra pleasure. He licked him teasingly, tracing his fingertips up the underside of Sam’s pleasantly throbbing cock. Sam seemed unable to make sound, but his muscles kept shuddering and releasing. Finally he lowered Sam back onto the bed and sat up. Sam looked so gorgeous ruffled up and undone, and all from Gabriel’s tongue. He got a rush of pride and slid his hands up Sam’s spent body possessively.

“Gabriel.” Sam pulled him to him, “That… that was...”

“Amazing?” Gabriel supplied.

Sam smiled hazily, “Yeah. Too amazing.” He said, “You can’t… can’t do that when I’m trying to work.”

Gabriel smirked, “Oh, Sam. I’m going to do that to you every day.” He flirted dangerously, “I’m going to do that to you when you’re on the phone, while you’re doing laundry, while you’re planning for your next hunt...”

Sam smiled. It was a different kind of smile than Gabriel had ever seen Sam wear before. It was so vulnerable yet, all for Gabriel. Gabriel knew he’d at last gotten Sam. He’d won him over and gotten to share something intimate with him.

“Just… not while I’m cleaning weapons. Okay?” He compromised.

“That’s no fun.” He kissed Sam playfully.

Sam grinned and kissed him back. Feeling a sudden rebound of energy, Sam flipped Gabriel over to repay the favor.

“What about the soul eaters?” Gabriel asked curiously while Sam removed Gabriel’s pants and lowered his head.

“It can wait.”

Gabriel smiled.

Chapter Text

Bondage Therapy


There were a lot of things Dean loved about Sam. There were also a lot of things about Sam that drove Dean crazy. For Dean, Sam’s cock filled both categories. Dean’s all time favorite way of getting at his brother’s cock was tying Sam up and making him beg for hours.

When Sam and Dean discovered they shared this particular interest, namely bondage, they went a little crazy. Dean, as the big brother, the protector, felt a need to take over and gave Sam all the pleasure he could possible give him. He knew Sam was a more than capable dom, but Dean needed to be the one to take care of him. So he took care of him. At every possible opportunity. Luckily, Sam’s resilience had always matched, if not surpassed, Dean’s.

Dean had Sam tied spread eagle to a metal frame he’d constructed in the bunker just for Sam. Sam was suspended forward slightly with straps around his forearms, calves, thighs, and biceps. Dean liked having the rest of Sam open for business, so to speak. Sam’s cock and balls with held tightly in a cock ring, jutting out for Dean to take full advantage of. His hair was drenched with sweat and his chest was flushed and heaving.

Dean had already spent hours edging Sam, and Sam was well past the point of being able to control himself. He was begging Dean, bleary eyed and panting, but still, Dean wouldn’t let him get off. Not yet. Dean was slowly, tortuously, fucking his cock with a hollow flesh toy. Sam was a big boy, so it was custom made toy. It swallowed him up repeatedly while Dean watched the remarkable, humbling effect it had on Sam’s already wrecked body. Sam trembled and sore, he writhed and tried to buck his hips, his shouted himself hoarse in pleasure, and it made Dean heady with satisfaction.

“Dean… Dean. Oh god, please.” He jaw was slack and his eyes were fighting to stay open as the toy engulfed his cock completely Dean spun it lazily around and around. Sam gave a guttural groan and seized up. But he couldn’t come with the cock ring on.

“Not yet, Sammy. You can do it. I know you can.” Dean goaded him in satisfaction, “I’ve seen you go all day.”

“I know, but I can’t. Not now.” Sam panted hotly, his expression screwing up as Dean began pumping the toy again, “Oh...h Dean.”

“Yes, you can.” Dean said. There was a bit of sadism in his eyes, but what was more, there was a deep love and awareness that Sam enjoyed being toyed like this, “Fight it, Sam. I’m not gunna stop. So take it. Or I’ll turn it on again.”

Sam groaned and shifted his hips uselessly. He had a dildo deep inside him, pressing teasingly against his prostate so that every move of his muscle sent sparks up his elongated spine. And Dean had a button on his phone that would make it vibrate. Sam bit his lips and shut his eyes tight, loosing himself in submission.

“That’s it, Sammy. That’s it.” Dean said soothingly. He stood up, still pumping the toy lazily, and brought Sam’s chin down for a kiss. Dean was naked as well, and just as hard. But he’d already come several times. He stroked himself as he pleasured Sam, loving Sam’s hot, ragged breath against his lips. Finally, he said the words Sam wanted to hear, “Do you want to come like this?”

Sam shook his head defiantly, “No. No… turn it on first.”

Dean smirked, “Atta boy.” He patted Sam’s cheek, “I’m proud of you, champ.” He joked. He reached for his phone and eyed Sam flirtatiously.

Sam swallowed, his jaw clenching in anticipation.

Dean pressed the button. He watched hungrily as Sam’s body lit up like it had been electrocuted. The dildo buzzed mercilessly against Sam’s prostate and Sam shouted out in ecstasy. His whole body tightened uncontrollably, forcing the dildo to buzz him even harder.

Sam shouted and moaned, writhing in his bonds.

Dean finally lost it, watching his brother so beside himself with heaving, raw pleasure. Dean pulled the flesh toy off of his cock and threw it aside.

“Yes…” Sam moaned, “Oh god yes, Dean.”

Dean smiled and adjusted the cock ring. He slipped it off Sam’s throbbing cock balls, and set it by his phone. Then he got on his knees, still stroking himself, and swallowed Sam into his mouth.

Sam groaned desperately. The metal frame shook as Sam’s body jerked and writhed. Dean’s tongue was so good it was sin. He swirled his tongue around Sam’s cock, lapping at all his sensitive spots that Dean knew far too well. Sam moaned as Dean took Sam into his throat. Dean reached his free hand up to fondle Sam’s balls, then felt back to Sam’s spread hole, vibrating with the toy inside him. He circled Sam’s ring with the pads of his finger tips, knowing it drove Sam wild. Sam jerked his hips ineffectively, feeling the pull of his restraints. It was too much. Dean’s tongue, the tight wetness of his mouth, the vibrator sending endless electric waves through his prostate, Dean’s fingers swirling his spread hole, Sam couldn’t speak. Dean hummed in pleasure around Sam’s cock and Sam knew that Dean was coming for a fifth time that night. And that was it for Sam.

Sam shuddered and gasped, his cock pulsing in Dean’s mouth on the verge of orgasm. It had been pressing against the surface of Sam’s body for hours, and it finally, slowly, tipped over. Sam yelled hoarsely, his voice breaking as he came down Dean’s throat. The continuous stimulation made Sam’s orgasm swallow him completely. He went numb, shaking and gasping as Dean swallowed his come and sucked his orgasm out of him.

Finally, Sam was whimpering, deep in his head, so Dean blindly pressed the button on his phone again.

Dean slowly slipped off of Sam’s cock and looked up at him. Sam looked like an angel. Well, maybe not that. But he looked perfect to Dean. That’s what Dean wanted to see. Sam completely spent and dripping with satisfaction. Dean gently pulled the dildo out of him, earning a shiver from Sam. Sam’s eyes were closed and his head was drooping his chest. Dean smoothed his palms up Sam’s muscular body and stood up. He kissed him, rousing him ever so slightly. Sam kissed back weakly, and it spread warmth through Dean’s post orgasmic body. Dean loved all the moments prior to this, but this was his favorite, still. He loosened the restrains and eased Sam into a sitting position on the floor. He pulled Sam to him, back to front, and cuddled him through his orgasmic bliss. Dean kissed Sam’s ear, his temple, his hair. Sam was putty. He rolled his head back to bury his face in Dean’s neck and Dean smiled.

Yeah, this was just as good as the sex.


Dean had never let Sam dominate him like that. He didn’t know why, but he just wasn’t comfortable with it. Sam understood and never pressed it, but sometimes he’d say things like, “You don’t have to be the big brother all the time.” or “You carry too much on your shoulders, you know that?” and it would piss Dean off. He knew what Sam’s intentions were good, but he didn’t like thinking about it.

Until a particularly nasty witch fight, that is.

Sam had managed to rescue Dean, but Dean was hurt. He was weak. Sam killed the witch, destroyed the hex bag, and took Dean back to the bunker. Dean didn’t talk much, but he let Sam tend to his wounds when they got back. Somehow, Sam’s words of comfort didn’t rub Dean the wrong way that time. He gave in and let Sam be the big brother for once.

“Dean.” Sam soothed, holding him close, “You’re safe, okay? I’ve got you.” Sam kissed him, trying to rouse him, to show him he was loved, and Dean’s reaction surprised Sam.

Dean backed down. Dean let Sam kiss him. Dean didn’t have to say it, Sam knew.

Sam and Dean made out of the Men of Letter’s couch, slowly, warmly. Then Dean let Sam handcuff him to the railing behind the couch. Sam could tell Dean needed this, and Sam was more than willing to give it to him. He slid a knee under Dean, so Dean was sitting on Sam’s lap, Dean’s back on the couch and his hands restrained above him. Sam resumed their kiss, a slow but seeking kiss, as he unbuttoned Dean’s shirt.

“Are you okay?” Sam checked in.

Dean closed his eyes as Sam kissed his neck, “Yeah.”

“Good.’’ Sam breathed into his ear, “You know I’ve always got your back, right? I’ll never abandon you, Dean.” He slid his palms up Dean’s body and got a pleasured breath out of him, “I’ll take care you.” He kissed him again, swirling his thumbs over Dean’s nipples.

Dean moaned softly, pressing his hips against Sam’s stomach. Dean wasn’t used to these sparks of pleasure, but he liked it. Sam kissed down Dean’s jaw, down his chest, then flitted his tongue over Dean’s nipple, sucking it gently. His hands fell to Dean’s pants as he stripped them. He took Dean’s bare cock in his head and Dean groaned. He instinctively tried to lower his arms but was stopped by the cuffs. A new kind of pleasure coursed through him, a pleasure so deep and vivid it made Dean squirm.

“Still good?” Sam looked up at him.

“Oh yeah.”

Sam smiled. He got off of Dean and stood up to remove his pants. Dean watched hazily as Sam’s familiar erection greeted him. Sam had topped him before, but never like this. Dean melted into the couch as Sam returned, nudging his knee under Dean’s butt. Sam stroked their erections together and renewed their kiss. Dean arched off the couch at the contact, feeling his cuffs hold him back again. Sam raised a hand and gripped the cuff chains together, tightening Dean’s bonds and stretching his body. Dean’s breath hitched. Again he felt intimate pleasure rake down his spread muscles and pool sinfully in his gut.

Sam could tell Dean was letting go, so he gave him a reward. He fingered Dean on the couch, stroking him from the inside until Dean’s head was s pinning in submissive ecstasy. Sam’s strokes were slow and soothing, but firm. If Dean’s tongue was s in, then Sam’s fingers were, too. Finally Sam could comfortably fit four in Dean’s body. Sam was a big boy, but Dean loved it. Sam withdrew his fingers and lifted Dean from under his thighs. He angled his hips beneath him so his cock was pressing against Dean’s entrance.

“Fuck, Sammy.” Dean panted, his pupils blown wide, “Do it.”

Sam smiled, huffing with effort of hoisting up Dean, “Don’t tell me what to do. Or I’ll gag you.”

Dean laughed breathlessly, but the sound transformed into a moan as Sam pushed in. Dean arched back over the couch as Sam reared up and entered him slowly, completely. Dean pulled at his chains, flexing his muscles as pleasure seeped into him from all sides. Sam panted and groaned in pleasure, holding Dean tight. Finally, Sam’s hips were pressing into the underside of Dean’s ass.

Dean panted, “How are you so freaking huge?”

Sam huffed a laugh, driving himself the tiniest bit deeper to fill Dean completely. Dean moaned. Sam gripped under Dean’s thighs, so that Dean could do nothing but take it as Sam slid out and pumped back in, completing his bondage. Dean took a shaky breath, so overcome with it. Soon Sam was fucking Dean slowly but purposefully. Deeply. Dean couldn’t remember feeling anything so intense. Dean’s chains were taught as he relied on Sam’s brute strength and gravity to fuck him. Sam didn’t seem to mind at all. He took over completely, letting Dean just feel it.

Sam rutted into Dean over and over again, grazing his cock over Dean’s prostate and making him moan shamelessly. Dean’s head fell back against the railing, leaning over the back of the couch as Sam used his knee as leverage to fuck him. Sam was so deep, and he came out nearly completely before sliding back in. Dean could feel his thrusts radiating through his whole body, amplified ten fold by his restraints. Soon Dean was writhing and panting encouragements.

“Yeah, yeah, Sammy. Fuck me.” He gritted his teeth.

Sam couldn’t say no to that. He took a controlled breath and angled his cock into Dean’s prostate.

Dean’s whole body lurched and he moaned hotly, “Ohh...yeah, right there! Oh fuck.”

Sam smiled to himself. Soon the bunker was filled with the sounds of sex. Dean used his chains to try and fuck Sam back, so Sam used his grip on Dean’s thighs to pin him against the couch, lifting his knees. Dean gasped and groaned. Hard. He made an incoherent noise of pleasure and Sam knew he had him. Dean couldn’t move and his body, forced to take every hit of pleasure, and he was surrendering completely.

Sam smiled breathlessly, “There you go, Dean.” The angle allowed Sam to press harder against Dean’s prostate with each stroke and fill him completely at the same time.

Dean gaped silently, taking ragged breaths with every thrust.

“That’s it Dean, relax.” Sam cooed, “I’ll do the work here. All you’re going to do for me, is come.”

Dean made an incoherent noise of agreement as Sam took the reigns. He slowed his pace, drawing Dean’s orgasm out with powerful, precise thrusts. Dean started shaking. His eye fluttered closed and he lost his voice.

“There you go. I’ve got you, Dean.” Sam panted, “You’re all mine tonight.” Sam got a rush as Dean submitted once again, letting every sensation rake down his defenseless body. Sam reached around Dean’s thigh with one hand and found his cock, stroking it with a hand slickened from the lube.

“Oh...ohgod.” Dean whined.

Sam could feel how wet Dean was. His lower stomach was already coated with precome. He twisted his grip over Dean’s head, then slid down and stroked up again, like Dean liked. Dean whined.

“We can do this whenever you want Dean. I can tell you love it.” Sam murmured, “You just say the word and I’ll tie you up and have my way with you. Over, and over again.” He breathed, brushing his palm over Dean’s head as he stroked him.

Dean made another desperate sound, and Sam knew he was close. Sam stroked and fucked him, holding him down tight, until Dean was seizing up and gasping.

“Sam… Sammy...” Dean murmured. It was the sweetest sound Sam had ever heard. With one more stroke and drag down his prostate, Dean was coming onto his chest. Dean groaned shamelessly, filling the bunker with the broken sound. He felt Sam’s hips come to a shuddering halt inside him. After a few more deep jerks, Sam’s own orgasm was filling Dean up. Dean groaned and heard Sam mirror him. Dean loved every second of it.

After a few trembling moments they were both motionless and panting on the couch, their ears ringing. Sam reached up and uncuffed Dean. Dean’s arms fell limply beside him on the couch, still impaled on Sam’s lap. Sam bent down and scooped Dean up so Dean was sitting up on him. Dean draped his arms over Sam’s shoulders and rested his forehead on his. Sam smiled fondly and relaxed. When Dean finally opened his eyes, he looked drunk.

“We…” He slurred, “Are doing that again.”

Sam laughed hoarsely, “Yeah we are.”


Dean seemed to be himself again that evening, even more forcefully so. They both laughed about the embarrassingly terrible witch hunt while Dean made them as unusually creative dinner.

“You know, we really should do that more often.” He handed Sam a plate, “That was… therapeutic.”

Sam knew he didn’t mean the hunt. “You know,” He took a bite gratefully, “Some people actually go to therapy.”

Dean scoffed, stuffing his face, “This is therapy.” He said, “No, this is better than therapy.”

“Yeah.” Sam shook his head in fond disbelief, “Why see a doctor when you can get laid?”

Dean pointed at him, his cheeks full, “Exactly.”

Sam laughed.




Chapter Text

Fully Loaded



Everyone knew that Gabriel’s appetites were insatiable. He wasn’t shy about it. Often times it took several partners at once to quench his thirsts, and he’d often go for days at a time. Sure, having a stable partner would be nice, but it wasn’t for him. It was impossible really. What single human could satisfy eons of want? Harems of boundless, imperishable energy? In other words: an Archangel?

Sam Winchester. The answer was Sam Winchester.

Sam Winchester was everything Gabriel thought didn’t exist, no, couldn’t exist, in a human. He discovered this when Sam prayed to him out of the blue. He’d heard Sam’s voice through the endless drones of countless prayers in his head that Gabriel had on auto-block. For some reason, Sam’s voice got through to him. It intrigued him. It was rough, desperate, possibly wounded. Gabriel decided to investigate from afar and slipped invisibly into Sam’s motel room. Sam wasn’t alone, or injured.

Gabriel found Sam having his way with two girls at once, the evidence of hours of debauchery displayed around them. And Sam… Sam was thinking of Gabriel while he came. All three times. His thoughts were so depraved and endless that even Gabriel was impressed.

It seemed that Sam was more than pretty looks, plaid, and stupidly unwavering determination. He had a secret need he kept bottled up in his daily life, and Gabriel was determined to free it.

Gabriel decided to reconsider his policy on stable partners, and dropped in on Sam while he was alone. The following few months were the best of Gabriel’s, and Sam’s, life. Their love affair seemed to defy both body and mind. They were so deep in each other that they didn’t know how they’d gone so long without it.

Sam was the sensible one on a hunt; the responsible, level-headed, figurative angel on Dean’s shoulder. With Gabriel, Sam was a slut. Gabriel could get Sam to shout, to beg and plea, to absolutely moan on Gabriel’s cock. And even though Gabriel had dominated Sam a million different ways, Sam was always ready to take it again and again. Gabriel loved getting Sam riled up in public, then whisking him away and making him come over and over again. Sam loved being filled up with Gabriel’s cum. Sam’s stamina, his body, his voice, it was all Gabriel’s, and it satisfied a need that neither realized that had.

One night, something slipped out while Sam was being fucked. He’d said the magic words that ignited a spark of lust so deep in Gabriel that he pulled out and changed tactics immediately.

Sam wanted Gabriel to breed him.

A minute later, Gabriel had magicked Sam’s room into a virtual BDSM dungeon. Even though Sam had seen this trick before, and even though he’d just been having his hole stretched by archangel cock, the gesture triggered a jolt of arousal that was shockingly new, and mind-numbingly deep. Sam was speechless. He would have fallen on his knees even if Gabriel hadn’t put him there. Gabriel was immensely pleased by Sam’s reaction. Once Sam broke into a breathless smile, Gabriel began binding him.


Sam was on his knees facing a short, leather cube. Gabriel strolled around Sam, tracing his fingers over Sam’s broad, bare shoulders, “You should have said something sooner, Sam.” Gabriel said, a wicked smile lifting his pointed face. When he was behind Sam, he put a leather collar around his neck. Sam tilted his head anxiously as Gabriel pulled his hair out of the collar.

“I’ve been wanting to breed you for years.” Gabriel whispered against Sam’s ear, then pushed Sam’s head down onto the seat, “You’re the perfect specimen.” His eyes raked over Sam’s bent body.

Sam huffed a nervous, but pleased laugh.

Gabriel attached the collar to the seat so Sam could barely lift his head, and definitely couldn’t look behind him. He did the same to Sam’s wrists, so his hands where on either side his face and he couldn’t lower his arms. Gabriel was happy to see Sam’s back rising and falling with each shallow breath. Gabriel kicked Sam’s knees apart, then bound those, too. Sam couldn’t speak.

“You know, archangels aren’t like other angels. We’re hard wired with the need to... progress our kind. Yet...” Gabriel sighed, “As with all of dad’s creations, their deepest, most instinctual drives are the ones most forbidden. Kind of a double-bind, huh?”

Sam gripped the seat as thick, leather restraints encased his thighs and ankles. Gabriel attached those restraints to rings on the floor, capturing Sam’s legs and holding them spread apart. Sam’s breath hitched.

“Oh my god, Gabriel.” He said as one word.

Gabriel smirked. He introduced one more prop to the scene: a ball gag. He raised his eyebrows at Sam.

Sam sometimes gave Gabriel a look that Dean referred to as ‘bitch-face’, but Gabriel better. It was a knowing, goading look that never failed to get Gabriel going, and it was look he gave Gabriel in that moment, despite being breathless with want. Gabriel grinned and opened Sam’s mouth. Sam rested his chin on the seat obediently while Gabriel placed the gag into his mouth. He smoothed his thumb up Sam’s tongue, because he could, then popped his fingers out and tied the strap around his head.

“Luckily...” Gabriel bent down to murmur in Sam’s ear, “This vessel can’t really knock you up.” He smoothed Sam’s hair behind his ear for him, “But dad help me, I’m going to try... all night long.” He said with relish. Sam’s eyes fluttered closed. Gabriel touched Sam’s forehead, making sure he could still check in with him telepathically, and he felt Sam’s lust roaring at him. Oh yeah, Sam was ready for this. Gabriel walked back around Sam and out of view.


Since Gabriel had just been fucking him, Sam’s ass was already wet and nicely stretched. Sam curious testing of his bonds proved his inability to move. Still, he jumped when he felt Gabriel’s cock teasing his spread entrance and his restraints answered him with resounding denial. It gave Sam a submissive high and his breathing slowed. All of his senses amplified. Gabriel slowly pressed back into Sam and Sam moaned into his gag. Gabriel let out a sigh as his cock sank deeper than ever in that spread, arched position Gabriel’s shape filled Sam so perfectly. Sam’s stomach dropped, feeling so full of archangel cock already. Gabriel rubbed his palms over the forced arch in Sam’s spine, then around the V shape of his hips and lower stomach. Sam’s muscles jumped again, giving Gabriel’s cock a pleasant twitch.

“Oh Sam...” Gabriel smirked, “You feel so good like this.” He pressed his hips against Sam’s ass, rubbing him teasingly, “I’m gonna come right here. So deep in your body that you’re going to be leaking for days. Is that what you want?”

Sam was already panting around the gag. His body spoke for him. He spread his legs what little he could and buried his head in the seat, elongating himself like he knew Gabriel liked. Gabriel smirked. He pulled out a little, than sank back in deep. Sam groaned.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” Gabriel goaded him, running his fingers over Sam’s firm, muscular stomach, “You want to be filled up so bad. You want me to breed you full of nephilims...”

Sam moaned in consent, dipping his hips in the hopes of getting some stimulation to his cock. He was already heady, desperate. Gabriel gave him another deep thrust, making Sam moan again.

“There you go. Feel it Sam.” Gabriel raked his nails down Sam’s back, making him shiver and buck.

Gabriel reared up and, in the next second, resumed his abuse of Sam’s hole. He thrust slow, but once Sam realized he wasn’t stopping again, he shivered and moaned. Gabriel kept teasing Sam’s vulnerable, exposed back and stomach while he fucked him.

“You’re still so tight, Sam. Even after Chicago. I’m going to have to keep breeding you until your ass remembers me.” Gabriel pumped into him at a steady pace.

Sam writhed uselessly in his bonds. Somehow, this felt different; different from all the other wild nights spent being fucked by Gabriel over and over again; Even different from that long weekend in Chicago where Sam was tied to the bed for four days straight, Gabriel replenishing his needs by angel grace. This felt deeper, more raw, and so deliciously violating. Sam groaned through his gag in ecstasy as Gabriel fucked him senseless.

Gabriel groaned in pleasure as he had his way with Sam, smiling breathlessly. “Should’ve known, Sam.” He panted, “You always love it when I come in your ass. You’re addicted to the stuff, aren’t you? My Archangel ‘grace’...” He grinned, “Should’ve known you really wanted me to put nephilims in you.” Gabriel could already feel himself leaking in Sam’s ass.

Sam groaned and trembled in approval. He could feel the lube from earlier being replenished by Gabriel’s precum, and it made him dizzy in arousal.

“I’m gonna plug you after this, Sam. Gonna keep all that cum in you. Then I’m gonna fill you again.” Gabriel gave him a particularly deep thrust, “And again.” Another thrust, “Want to see how much of me you can hold.”

Sam’s legs trembled. His position suddenly felt that much more exposing. Gabriel had put him in the perfect position to let load after load of his cum fill Sam’s ass.

“How long do you think it’ll take before you overflow?” Gabriel seemed to be reading his mind, “Six, maybe seven times?”

Sam made an incoherent noise.

“You’re right. Let’s try eight.” Gabriel teased, “Should only take a few hours.”

Sam’s whole body was rolling in wave after wave of pleasure, each one punctuated and spurred on by Gabriel’s thrusts and taunts. Then Gabriel found Sam’s sweet spot and Sam clenched around him, his feet scraping the floor. Gabriel loved it when Sam did that, so he kept rubbing his cock over the spot, making Sam thrash and moan for more. Sam’s hips were trying to buck, wanting to ride Gabriel’s dick and get some friction on his own, but Gabriel was only concerned with his own pleasure, and it made Sam feel so perfectly used. He was only there to be bred by Gabriel. Sam groaned in submissive ecstasy, clenching uncontrollably every time Gabriel hit that spot. Gabriel was going to come while he used Sam like a sex toy.

Sure enough, Gabriel groaned hotly and his cock throbbed in Sam’s ass. Gabriel’s hips shuddered to a halt, pressing hard against Sam’s ass. Sam felt Gabriel’s cum seep into him deeper than it ever had, and Sam gasped a moan around the gag. Gabriel tilted his head back, thrusting lazily through his pleasure.

“Yeah, Sammy. You love this.” Gabriel breathed. He came a lot, more so than usual anyway. Sam wondered if he was doing it on purpose. Gabriel answered his question unconsciously, “I want your belly full, Sam. I want you pregnant. You’re gonna look so gorgeous.”

Sam bit back a whimper. He’d never been so turned on his life.

Gabriel didn’t pull out when he was finished. He readjusted his stance, as if getting comfortable buried in Sam’s ass, then began feeling Sam over again.

“Hmm.” He purred, “One down. Ready for more?”

Sam nodded weakly, his body vibrating in arousal.

“’Atta boy.” Gabriel squeezed his ass. He felt around Sam’s front and traced his fingers along Sam’s impressive human cock. Sam shook and moaned. Gabriel grinned. He dabbed his thumb at Sam’s leaking tip, then brought the substance to his lips and licked it. Sam was sweeter than candy. Gabriel sucked it off his thumb, letting Sam hear it.

That was all the attention he gave Sam’s cock for another two rounds. Gabriel kept fucking and coming, fucking and coming. At one point he pulled out to get Sam some water, and he really did plug him. By that point Sam was already feeling full, and the plug just made it all the more staggering.

Sam was doing so well that Gabriel decided to let Sam come the next time. Sam was more than okay with this, but the prospect of it ended up making everything even more intense. Sam was tearing up and sputtering around his gag as Gabriel worked his prostate like a pro, rubbing and gliding into it with every thrust. When he reached around to tease Sam’s cock, Sam clenched up so hard that Gabriel lost his breath and shivered.

“Oh, Sammy.” Gabriel panted, “Keep doing that and I’ll make you come every time.”

Sam groaned. He couldn’t control it, but he gave it his best shot. Gabriel kept swirling his thumb around his head and making Sam buck. Then he finally gripped his cock and gave Sam a genuine stroke. Sam shouted in pleasure, his ball gag vibrating, and clenched down again. Hew was going to come already. Gabriel smirked knowingly. He gave him a few more lazy strokes and then was Sam coming all over the floor. His whole body seized up and toppled over the edge with help from a few more jabs to his prostate. The feeling of Sam clenching around Gabriel, so full with three rounds of cum, had Gabriel coming for a fourth time. It seeped out around Gabriel’s cock and dribbled down Sam’s inner thighs. The sensation paired with Sam’s orgasm made Sam go limp. The pleasure from his orgasm sparked through him a few more times, then Gabriel was leaning over his back and kissing him. He scooped a hand under Sam’s chin, feeling his spread lips. He checked in with him telepathically again and, to his surprise, Sam wanted him to keep going.

So he kept going.

Gabriel fucked Sam through his post orgasm high, until he reached that point of hypersensitivity that made Sam shiver. He whined and whimpered, but he still didn’t want Gabriel to stop.

“Mm, Sam.” Gabriel purred approvingly, “You’re even more twisted than I thought. Can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”

Sam nodded desperately, sparks of pleasured pain wrecking him with every thrust. He was so full that Gabriel’s thrusts felt like he was fucking the cum deeper into his body.

Gabriel loved it. How was Sam so perfect? So defiant yet so submissive? Gabriel came for a fifth time, his cum now leaking out around Gabriel’s balls in earnest, “I don’t think we’re going to reach eight, Sammy.” He said honestly, groping Sam’s cum coated balls, “But I have an idea.”

Sam liked the sound of that, even if he was leaning entirely on the seat and looking like he’d just lost a fight to pack of werewolves.

Gabriel decided to treat Sam to his second orgasm of the night. He gave Sam a little taste of Archangel grace, through his cock of course, and Sam felt himself rejuvenate, so to speak. He realized then what Gabriel was about to do. Gabriel pulled out of Sam, but he didn’t plug him again. He got down on his knees.

Sam blindly felt Gabriel’s tongue lick up his spread hole, catching some of the cum that was seeping out. Sam’s cock twitched. He loved with Gabriel rimmed him. Gabriel’s tongue was pure sin. Gabriel reached between Sam’s legs and played with his balls, massaging Gabriel’s cum into them. He scooped up some of that cum and used it as lube to jerk Sam off. Sam groaned. Gabriel even nudged some of the cum into Sam’s cock with his finger. It didn’t really work, but the effort of trying to fill Sam there, too, made Sam moan desperately.

Gabriel’s tongue swirled and sucked as he made out with Sam’s hole, letting himself get nice and messy. Sam could picture it well enough, and it made his balls tighten. Gabriel slid a finger into Sam while he rimmed him, and began massaging the cum into Sam’s prostate. Sam bucked and gasped. Within seconds, Sam was coming again. He moaned hotly, loving that Gabriel kept going until Sam went numb. He lay gripping the seat, relying entirely on his bondage to keep his trembling ass up for Gabriel to abuse. Gabriel knew he’d broken him right then and there.

Gabriel scooped up some of Sam’s cum and added that to the lube in Sam’s ass. Then he was standing up once more and breeding him again. Gabriel got well passed eight, making a pool of cum at the floor between Sam’s legs. When he sensed Sam had gone completely submissive, he freed his collar and wrist restraints from the leather seat, then removed his gag. He pulled Sam up so he could rest his back against Gabriel’s chest as he fucked him. Sam stayed exactly where Gabriel put him. Gabriel held him up by the collar and kissed him, letting Sam taste their cum combined on Gabriel’s tongue. Some of it seeped out the side of Sam’s mouth.

Gabriel got to orgasm number twelve before he finally began feeling the effects of losing so much bodily fluid. One more time ought to do it.

“Can you take one more, baby?”

“Yes...” Sam groaned.

Gabriel loved that. Sam was so wrecked, so completely undone and overwhelmed with pleasure, yet he always answered Gabriel. And he always answered yes.

Gabriel fucked him one more time, whispering words of encouragement into Sam’s ear, “You’re so full Sam. I’ve got you right where I want you. So full of my cum. So well bred and well fucked. I want you to wear a plug from now on so I can keep you full of my cum. So I know that wherever you are, under all those clothes, you’re still being bred by me. Over and over again. Want you to masturbate full of my cum, let it seep into you. Wanna see you pregnant, baby.”

That was it for Sam. His cock throbbed and he came once more, without Archangel assistance, without Gabriel even touching his cock. Gabriel prided himself on being able to do that. Gabriel had a hand on Sam’s belly and one on his collar, and he kept muttering into his ear. Gabriel came after him, bucking up into Sam’s body and filling him with one last, plentiful load of cum.

Gabriel held Sam against him, spooning him and soothing him through Sam’s body-wrecking orgasm. Gabriel reached down and stroked the last few drops out of his cock while, true to his word, he plugged him again. Sam barely felt it, but he knew what Gabriel was doing. He felt one last surge of white hot pleasure, then he felt his body give out.

Gabriel carefully undid Sam’s messy bindings. When he sensed Sam wasn’t going to be able to stand, he scooped him into his arms. Gabriel was a full head shorter than Sam, but with his grace he could lift Sam as easily as a feather. By the time Gabriel was lowering Sam down, his bedroom had been transformed back to normal. Gabriel lovingly left the pool of cum, however. He couldn’t possibly take down that work of art. Not yet.

Gabriel slid into bed with Sam, miraculously clean. He kissed Sam, worshiping his body as Sam worked through his submissive haze. Gabriel knew Sam had returned to him when he shifted his hips, feeling his plug. Sam got a little jolt up his spine. He opened his eyes at Gabriel.

Gabriel smiled, “You were great, Sammy.” He nuzzled him affectionately.

Sam smiled and got comfortable in Gabriel's arms.

Gabriel kissed his temple, “So… what do you want to name all our kids?”

Sam laughed. He voice was raspier than normal. He pulled the covers up and put his arms around Gabriel, “Well… we gotta name at least two after my parents. Because you know Dean will pick something ridiculous like Led Zeppelin or Green Arrow.”

Gabriel chuckled.

“You can pick the rest.” Sam said. He honestly didn’t care.. Gabriel could have gotten him to agree to anything in that moment.

Gabriel seemed to sense that, because he starting looking around the room and reciting off the first things he saw, ending with, “...Jacket, and Doorknob.”

Sam laughed and threw a pillow onto Gabriel’s face, “You forgot Cum Puddle.”

“Sticky Nut Juice.”

Sam grinned, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that?”

Gabriel propped himself up on the pillow happily, “Oh, that’s staying. I’m going to build a memorial plaque. Years from now, future Men and Women of Letters will see it and know that Sam Winchester got the best lay of his life right here.” Gabriel sighed fondly.

Sam shook his head in amusement, “Well, the last part’s true.” He said.

Gabriel grinned at him.

“How many kids are we having?” Sam asked lazily.

“A hundred.”

Sam looked at him, “I thought it was twelve?”

Gabriel gave him a flirtatious look, “Just planning ahead, babe. Why don’t you get some sleep? You’re going to need it.” He winked at him.

Sam huffed a laugh but, like always, he did as his dom said. He put his head down on Gabriel’s chest and Gabriel played with his hair while Sam caught up on some desperately needed sleep.

Chapter Text

Two Feet Under


Sam had just come back from his morning run. Dean already had coffee made, so Sam took a cup and went to his room to shower. He took a swig then set the mug on the bathroom sink and began to strip. He was down to his small, tight, running underwear before he noticed it.

Castiel was in his bathtub.

Sam jumped, instinctively covering his crotch. He rolled his eyes, “Really, Cas? You could’ve said something.”

Castiel took a guilty breath, “Right. Sorry.” He looked away quickly.

Sam bit back a smile. He continued getting undressed, “You know. Most people fill the tub with water before they get in.”

Castiel made a vague noise of interest, then sat up to turn the water on. “Dean… he said I was filthy. So I thought I’d take a bath.” Castiel explained. His eyes fell unceremoniously to Sam’s cock.

Sam took another sip of coffee, completely nude. The ceramic cup clinked on the side of the sink, “He probably meant because you’re screwing his brother.” Sam flashed him a grin.

Castiel licked his lips distractedly.

Sam shook his head in amusement, “I’m gonna take a shower. There’s bubble-bath under the sink if you want it.” He got into the shower and turned the water on, “Don’t tell Dean.”

Something about the idea of Sam Winchester taking a bubble-bath after a long day of decapitating vampires and saving the world, greatly pleased Castiel.

Soon the bathroom with filled with the sound of running water. Castiel got the water temperature in the tub nice and hot, then got out to get the bubble-bath. He read the bottle as he padded back to the tub.

“Hm. Apply generously.” Castiel read. So he tipped the bottle over and emptied it entirely into the tub.

“So, Dean thought it would be a good idea to bring the flamethrower to that vamp nest last night.” Sam made conversation with Castiel as he showered, “It… actually worked out pretty well.”

“Hm.” Castiel was now sitting in the tub, watching the bubbles slowly overtake him, “That would explain his eyebrows.”

Sam laughed.

Sam turned the shower off after a few minutes, then stepped back out to grab a towel. He foot stepped in something slick. It was a testament to how unusual his life was that he assumed it was blood and continued fetching his towel. Then he looked down, perhaps realizing blood wouldn’t be normal to step in in his own bathroom. He froze.

Bubbles. Bubbles everywhere.

Sam’s face fell, “Cas, what did you...” He looked at the tub, which was now more bubbles than water, or even Castiel. Sam gaped at him, “Seriously? Did you use the whole bottle?”

“Yes.” Castiel spoke, bubbles wobbling around him.

Sam’s shoulders dropped. Sure, his bathroom was now a mess but, he laughed. He walked over to the bathtub. He bent down, reaching his arm into the bubbles to turn the water off. He grabbed the empty bottle, “Next time, just use a couple pumps.” He tossed the bottle into the trash then continued toweling off, “As you can see...” Sam continued in amusement, “It lathers up pretty well.” Sam watched as Castiel took a handful of bubbles and inspected it. Sam smiled fondly, “Well, you’re definitely clean now.”

Castiel sighed impassively, “I suppose.” He attention fell to Sam once more.

Sam quirked a brow, “Do you want me to join you?” He offered.

Castiel’s expression softened, “Yes. I’d like that.”

Sam smiled and put his towel back on the rack. He padded over to the tub and slipped in opposite Castiel. He was really glad he’d chosen the bedroom with the giant tub. Sam insisted it was because he’d never had a bathtub he could actually fit in. Dean said it was a sex tub. Sam privately agreed.

The bubbly water seeped over the edge of the tub as Sam got in. Sam didn’t care; he already had a whole mess to clean up. Castiel made room for him, but they fit together perfectly. Sam slid his legs under Castiel’s and put his arms on Castiel’s bare shins. It was nice and hot, and Castiel’s skin felt soft and slick with all the soap.

Sam kept staring at Castiel’s bubbly visage, so he sat up after a few seconds and began excavating Castiel from the bubbles. Castiel let him. He’d always been surprised by how good Sam’s hand felt on him. Castiel relaxed as Sam scooped the bubbles into the middle of the tub, making a nice, cozy blanket over them.

Castiel looked around for the first time and realized the mess he’d made, “Perhaps you were right about the bubbles...”

“You think?” Sam grinned, leaning back comfortably.

Castiel gave him a rare smile, “Sorry. I’ll help you clean up.”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas.” Sam said honestly, idly smoothing his hands over Castiel’s legs.

Castiel sighed contentedly. He looked so comfortable, so Sam began massaging him. Castiel’s eyes closed and he sank a little in the bubbles. Sam smiled. He’d never realized just how expressive Castiel could be, in his own unique way. Sam loved it. He loved everything about Castiel. Even that fact that he nearly flooded his bathroom to take a bubble bath. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

When Sam got to Castiel’s feet, Castiel swallowed and licked his lips. Sam noticed.

“Feel good?” He asked.

Castiel nodded and opened his eyes, “Very.”

So Sam kept massaging him. The soapy water was better than lotion. His thumbs and fingers reached every spot, massaging up the arch of his foot, his heel, even his toes. Sam hadn’t realized how cute his toes were. He noticed Castiel was really enjoying himself. His breathing had gone shallow, and his hand had slipped off the side of the tub and into the water. It took Sam a second to realize what he was doing.

“Cas?” Sam asked, switching to the other foot. He had Castiel’s legs propped up on his stomach.

Castiel opened his eyes again, “Hm?”

Sam gave a curious smile, “Is this… turning you on?”

Castiel’s expression opened up. Sam looked different. His eyes were dark and his half smile was anything but innocent. Castiel’s eyes widened in arousal, “Yes.” He answered bluntly. He waited for Sam to stop, but he didn’t.

Sam slid a hand down Castiel’s leg and found Castiel’s hand around his erection. Castiel removed his hand, and Sam took over. Sam massaged his foot with one hand, while his other massaged his cock.

Castiel moaned gratefully, “Sam...”

Sam smiled softly, “Hm?”

“That… that feels amazing.” His head drooped back on the edge of the tub.

“Good.” Sam said simply. He stroked Castiel’s cock slowly and luxuriously, massaging his foot all the while. The soap made good lotion and lube; Castiel’s cock was hard but slick, easy to glide his fist over.

Castiel draped his arms over the edge of the tub, his chest rising and falling in the water. He could feel Sam’s own erection growing steadily against Castiel’s thigh. Then he felt something knew. Castiel looked back down, and his breath left him in a gasp of arousal.

Sam was licking up the underside of Castiel’s foot. Castiel twitched. It tickled, but the sensation went straight to his cock. Castiel’s breath hitched. Sam sucked his toe into his mouth as he massaged and stroked him. Castiel moaned.


Sam buzzed around Castiel’s toes in response.

“Do you… want to have sex?”

Sam popped his lips off of his toes to speak, “Here? In the tub?”

Castiel nodded intently.

It was Sam’s turn to lick his lips, “Hell yes.”

Castiel shifted in the bath as Sam got up. He looked like a god emerging from pools of lust, slick soapy water running down his hard body, his hair wet and splayed around his jaw… and of course, completely erect. Castiel swallowed a moan of want.

Sam moved Castiel’s legs apart and sank between them. He placed his hands on the edge of the tub by Castiel’s arms, leaned down, and kissed him. Castiel always tasted good, like something Sam couldn’t quite place – like a flower or a kind of whiskey he’d never tasted before. Sam tasted like amaretto coffee, winter-mint, bubbles, and just… Sam. It was Castiel’s favorite taste.

“Do you want a blow job first?” Sam asked. He knew they were Castiel’s favorite.

Castiel nodded seriously, “Yes.”

Sam smirked. He slid down in the tub so he was almost laying on Castiel, his head and shoulders between his legs. Then he slipped his arms under Castiel’s ass so Castiel’s cock was just out of the water, and lowered his head down.

Castiel’s hands flew to side of the tub and Sam sucked him into his mouth. It was a little soapy, but it tasted mostly like Castiel’s precum. Sam sucked him at a steady pace, lavishing him with his cheeks and tongue. Castiel moaned, his hand drifting to Sam’s head.

During sex, Castiel had to be really horny to take the lead, but he always took what he wanted from Sam’s mouth. Sam loved it. Castiel guided Sam’s head up and down, the water splashing around his face. Sam closed his eyes. Soon he was full out, getting face-fucked by Castiel in the bath. Sam’s face and hair were soaked, and his erection was jutting shamelessly in the water.

Castiel’s groans echoed in the room as he pumped his hips up past Sam’s tight lips. Without realizing it, he’d submerged Sam in the water.

Sam could tell it was going to happen if he didn’t say something, but Sam remained silent. He let himself be pushed underwater and he kept sucking Castiel’s cock. He held his breath, encouraging Castiel on with hard, fast suction. Just as Sam felt his lungs tightening, Castiel would bring him out of the water, gasping for air with his mouth full of cock, then Castiel would push him back. The tightness in his lungs spread to his whole body, giving him a rush of submissive pleasure each time.

When Castiel realized what he was doing, he stopped at once.

“Sam.” He gasped along with Sam, who was taking a huge, relieving breath of air, “Can you breathe?”

“No.” Sam panted, looking up at Castiel, “It’s okay. It’s good. I mean, it feels good.”

Castiel looked surprised, but he was too horny to question it, “Do you want to keep going?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah. Go ahead, Cas.”

Castiel got a powerful rush of arousal. He knew Sam sometimes liked when Castiel dominated him, and he was getting a similar feeling with this. He put his hand back on Sam’s head, almost like he was about to blast his mind, then pushed him back down on his cock. Sam’s body filled with arousal as quickly as the water rushed over his head.

Castiel used a little grace to be able to tell when Sam really needed to come up for air, and he set his pace that way. He found that Sam looked absolutely breathtaking coming up for air over and over again, plunging back on Castiel’s cock with renewed vigor. Soon Castiel had to stop him because it felt too good. A new urge was taking over and he didn’t want to come yet.

“Sam… Sam.” He lifted him out of the water.

Sam knew Castiel was stopping him for good, and he got up on his knees, gasping and sputtering. He was completely erect.

“I want you to fuck me.” Castiel said.

Sam spat water out of his mouth. He had water in his ears, too, but he definitely heard that clearly. It wasn’t a request, but it wasn’t a demand, either. Castiel needed Sam inside of him. Sam’s heart leapt and his cock twitched.

“You got it, Cas.” Sam panted. He slicked his hair out of his eyes, absolutely drenched, then slid his hands down Castiel’s body while he caught his breath. The tightness had left his lungs and settled deep in his balls, giving him a pleasant high.

Castiel could tell Sam was completely turned on. He was the most beautiful creature in world like this. Sam leaned down and Castiel took him by the jaw, kissing him deeply. Sam tilted his head and dipped his tongue into Castiel’s mouth, sharing Castiel’s taste with him. Castiel sighed deeply. Despite the trembling need in Sam’s body, his motions were smooth as Sam lifted Castiel’s thighs over his, sloshing more water over the edge of the tub. Neither of them noticed the mess this time. Sam slid Castiel down so that Sam’s erection was pressing against Castiel’s thigh, and Castiel’s was against Sam’s chest. Sam’s hand found Castiel cock and continued stroking it as his other hand positioned his erection against Castiel’s ass.

Sam hadn’t been with a lot of men, but he knew it wasn’t normal for Castiel to not need any prep work. Often times Sam did the prep work anyway because it riled Castiel up and Sam loved it. But it was moments like these, sudden, unprompted bathtub sex, that made Sam glad he could just sink into Castiel's body.

Sam pressed inside hotly, and the moan that fell off Castiel’s lips tasted sweeter than honey. Castiel’s head tipped back as Sam glided inside him, stretching him with his cock. Sam groaned softly, his breath misty in the warm air. He put his hands on Castiel’s knees and began to work his hips, sloshing the water and create a miniature wave pool. He thrust in and out at a steady pace, loving each and every unconscious sound of pleasure that toppled off Castiel’s lips. Castiel was most expressive during moments like this. It was like he couldn’t handle so much pleasure, and his angelic being temporarily forgot it was anything but a hungry, needy human.

Soon Sam was fucking him in earnest and the bathroom was filled with the sounds of water splashing, heavy moaning, and sex. The bubbles were nearly all driven away, and Sam watched as Castiel’s hips bobbed in the water, the cusp of his head glistening wet in the bathroom air.

When Sam found the perfect angle, rubbing his cock into Castiel’s sweet spot, Castiel gasped. He threw a hand over his eyes, his mouth open wide.

“Sam… yes.” He groaned, “Oh, yes.”

This was Sam’s favorite part; When Castiel started talking.

“You like that, baby?” Sam breathed back, “This is all for you. I want to make you feel good. Wanna make you come.”

Castiel groaned. His hand fell away and he looked at Sam, pupils blown. It took Sam’s breath away. His thrusts got more searching, desperate. He got handsy as he often did, and started feeling Castiel up in the water. Castiel loved when Sam played with his nipples, and the slippery water made it that much easier. Castiel arched his back, sliding down on Sam’s cock on his own, and Sam shuddered in pleasure. He swirled the pads of his fingers around and around Castiel’s nipples, loving the color rising in Castiel’s cheeks. He was downright cute. Then Sam remember something else about Castiel he’d just realized was cute. Sam’s hands slipped down Castiel’s body. He lifted his legs under the knees and folded Castiel onto himself. Enough water had splashed out of the tub that Castiel didn’t slide under the surface. Sam usually did this to deepen his thrusts, but not this time. This time he did it so he could fuck Castiel and rub his feet at the same time.

Castiel seemed to realize what Sam was doing, and his whole body tightened in arousal.

“Oh… oh, Sam.” Castiel moaned. It sounded like a warning, but Sam went ahead anyway.

Sam’s hands were big enough to hold each foot and massage them at the same time. It wasn’t a full massage, but it was enough pressure at the right spots, and it had Castiel beside himself with pleasure, completely undone. The sight made Sam’s cock throb.

“Sam… I’m gonna come.” Castiel grumbled, screwing up his expression in concentration.

“Come, Cas.” Sam encouraged him, “I want you to come for me.”

Castiel wasn’t even touching himself. He was palming the sides of the tub uselessly, his whole body shaking. He looked so human in that moment that it was angelic in it’s own right. With one more hot thrust and rub of his feet, Castiel was coming in the bath. He groaned shamelessly, seizing up around Sam’s cock. Sam’s thrusts faltered. He gasped a moan, resuming his hurried pace. Then Sam suddenly pulled out and came on the surface of the water above Castiel’s stomach.

Castiel panted, watching Sam orgasm above him. Sam Winchester in the throes of pleasure was more beautiful than anything in Chuck’s creation. Surely, it was the peak of evolution, of creation, more pure and beautiful than a colony of well organized bees. Sam. Sam was Castiel’s queen bee.

As Sam finished, mouth agape, Castiel reached out of the water for Sam’s trembling jaw and pulled him into a kiss. Sam rejoined Castiel, sinking back down in the bathwater which had become mysteriously hot again. Sam lay atop Castiel, kissing him into the last remaining bubbles. They caught their breath together, engulfed in each other’s warmth and the warmth of the bath.

“Cas.” Sam mumbled weakly.

Castiel hummed against Sam’s jaw in response.

“Were you thinking about bees again?”

Castiel paused, looking guilty.

Sam smiled, scooping Castiel into his arms under the water, “It’s just… you had that look again. Never mind. It’s cute.”

Castiel gave Sam a small smile, making Sam beam. They kissed in the water, basking in each other’s post-orgasm bliss. After a while they decided that they both needed another shower after what was now a literal cum bath.

It was the little things Sam loved about Castiel. Like how he kept the shower running hot even though Sam knew they’d burned through their hot water heater by now. Or how Castiel freshened Sam’s forgotten cup of coffee after they got out of the shower. Or how he stuck around to help Sam clean. And while Sam wiped down the foggy mirror and shaved, Castiel sat on the side of the tub and watched, like there was nothing in the world he’d rather be doing.

Sam had an angel on his shoulder, alright. A sexy, bathroom flooding, bee collecting, perfect angel. And by the way Castiel watched Sam while he shaved, Sam knew Castiel felt the same about him.

Chapter Text

Blood and Flesh, Mind and Soul


Crowley wasn’t surprised that Sam loved to be dominated. They had been hooking up for months, and there was very little Crowley didn’t know about Sam anymore. Sam had the endurance, the stamina, and not to mention the sex drive, that made him the perfect plaything. And Sam was just as twisted as Crowley always hoped. The first time Sam submitted was sweeter than sin.

Sam had been captured by demons, and Crowley came to his rescue. Wrong time, wrong place, blah blah. Killing a Winchester in the present climate was simply bad for business, Crowley informed him. Crowley dismissed his demons and began untying Sam. But there was something about the smell of sweat and blood, something about the sight of Sam so deliciously stretched in chains, that neither of them could resist. Crowley fucked Sam hard and fast, and Sam’s voice broke in a way it never did for the demons torturing him moments prior. Sam was cursing and shouting Crowley’s name over and over again in absolute satisfaction.

From that moment on, there was an unspoken agreement between Sam and Crowley. They’d play heroes and villains by day, but at night, Sam was all Crowley’s. Sam was able to overlook his lapse in judgment because, well, the sex was just so damned good. Even Dean had noticed Sam was hunting better, looking better, and generally being way more agreeable than normal. Dean cracked jokes about Sam having a secret girlfriend, but Sam was a great liar. He didn’t mind lying to Dean as long as Crowley understood that, in time, they’d still kill him. Crowley’s response was the same every time.

“Such a tease, darling.”

Over time, Sam and Crowley’s meetups became increasingly heated. Sam craved more and more of Crowley, and he couldn’t stop himself. At first it startled him, so Sam channeled it into the sex. He challenged Crowley at every turn, but Crowley rose to his challenges. Crowley dominated him over and over again, making sure that Sam knew he belonged to Crowley, in mind, body, and soul. Crowley didn’t seem to realize how smitten his was with this one human. Sam told himself it was just Crowley’s lingering blood lust. But the truth was, they were both seeking each other out at every turn, finding every and any excuse to taste each other’s passion.

One such night occurred when Sam and Dean returned to their motel room after a grueling hunt. Even though they were leaving first thing in the morning, Sam sneaked away after Dean fell asleep. He took the impala and drove to a dilapidated barn off the main road. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but Sam knew Crowley better. It was probably bigger on the inside. Sure enough, when Sam walked inside, he froze.

It looked like every other torture dungeon Crowley had ever set up, except this one wasn’t for torture. There was a chair in the middle of the room with straps attached to the arms and legs. Beside it was a metal frame with chains, and a table full of tools: Gags, blindfolds, crops, silk rope, anything and everything Sam could imagine.

“Hello, darling.” Crowley greeted him.

Sam’s jaw was clenched tight and his eyes were wide.

Crowley was immensely pleased by Sam’s reaction, “You were awfully eager to meet.” He eyed Sam indecently, “Shall we skip the small talk?” Crowley walked past him and began inspecting his tools.

Sam followed, finally unglued from the floor, “Yeah. Sure.”

Crowley raised a brow at him, “That was a little too easy. Something on your mind?”

Sam looked guilty, “I… no.”

Crowley’s smirk widened, “Oh good. I was hoping I’d have to tease it out of you.”

Sam swallowed. He opened his mouth to respond with a better, more convincing response, but Crowley cut him off.

“Strip.” Crowley commanded.

Sam eyed him skeptically, but he did as Crowley said.

Crowley gave a self-satisfied smile. He watched Sam expose himself piece by piece, looking nervous but resolute. Crowley tilted his head, knowing that Sam loved it when he watched. Crowley hummed as Sam finally removed his boxers, exposing his half hard erection. Crowley stalked over to him, taking the full, breathtaking picture.

Sam’s body was gorgeous alone, but Crowley had been perfecting it. Sam was covered in love bites, bruises, even cane marks, reminding them both of everywhere Crowley had been.

“Very good.” Crowley stroked a hand up Sam’s thigh, coming dangerously close to his erection, “One last chance, Samantha, to tell me why you were so eager to meet tonight.”

“Seriously.” Sam said, trying to suppress of shudder of arousal, “There’s no reason.”

Crowley nodded slowly, “Of course.” He took his hand off Sam and walked around him, expecting his every muscle and curve like a prize race horse.

Sam shut his eyes, getting a little rush of submissive arousal despite his efforts at self-control. He flexed his hands, “Are we gonna start or are you just gonna stare at me all night?” Sam teased.

“Oh, I thought a bit of both.” Crowley teased him right back. Suddenly Crowley’s hand was on Sam’s shoulder. He pushed Sam down onto his knees, “Stay.” Crowley growled. He moved over to the table and began selecting things.

Sam licked his lips nervously. He thought for sure he was going to the metal frame, but he wasn’t complaining. This was so messed up. And yet, Sam got pleasure from the fact that Crowley set this up whenever he asked. Sam didn’t care who bottomed or topped, not when Crowley stared at him like that, wiping down his sex toys. He lived for Crowley’s subtle, burning glances. Sam was surprised he hadn’t caught fire by now.

Crowley walked around Sam, not showing him what he’d taken from the table, “So Sam. I’ve been thinking.” He hummed, “We’ve done just about everything, haven’t we? The chains, the restraints, the toys...” Crowley came to a halt behind Sam, “...all but the one thing I’ve been dying to try most.” Crowley knelt behind him.

“Huh.” Sam huffed nervously, not turning around. Crowley hadn’t even touched him, and his body was already vibrating, “And what’s that?”

Crowley loved that. No matter how nervous Sam was, he kept that cocky smile on his face; Determined to challenge, to resist. Sure, Crowley was his dom, but Sam was far from a sub.

“Shibari, love.” Crowley breathed on the back of Sam’s neck, wanting to break him more than ever.

Sam suppressed a shudder. Crowley touched Sam at last, and he jumped slightly. Sam cursed silently. He could hear the smirk on Crowley’s face. Crowley traced his finger tips down Sam’s back, then slipped his hands around his waist. Sam hadn’t noticed until he looked down, but Crowley had a long, silky black rope in his hands.

“You know, Sam. I’ve been thinking about how gorgeous you look bound in leather… but how would you look in rope?” Crowley pondered, “Well, luckily for you, I have the perfect image in my mind, and all you have to do is sit there.” He purred in Sam’s ear.

Sam’s heart leapt in his throat. Crowley was tying him up with rope? If Shibari was what he remembered from Bobby’s ill-hidden fetish novels, then Sam was in for a long night.

“Ah. I almost forgot.” Crowley added. He reached around Sam’s head and tied a silk blindfold around his eyes. That surprised Sam.

“Wouldn’t want to spoil it for you.”

Sam’s breathing quickened, “Right.” He said. But his voice was stolen from him as he felt Crowley’s hands on him again.

Crowley began dragging the rope over Sam’s body. He tried to stay still, but without being able to see where he was going next, he kept squirming. Crowley was enjoying it far too much, making all sorts of pleased hums and tuts. Soon Sam’s chest was bound in rope and his arms were fixed behind his back in an intricate lattice of knot-work. Sam could flex his arm a little, but it tightened the ropes around his chest and made it harder to breathe.

Crowley continued down Sam’s body, blatantly avoiding his now completely erect cock. He began binding his thighs and feet, immobilizing him completely. Sam’s breathing picked up and the ropes tightened around him.

“That’s it, Sam. How’s it feel?” Crowley rasped.

He shifted his shoulders nervously, “Good.” He said. He could hear Crowley smirking again. Sam shut his eyes, trying to concentrate with all of his senses in overdrive.

Once the ropes were all connected, Crowley stepped back to admire his work. Sam was completely bound in black robe, accentuating his tanned, well toned skin. Flexing any part of his body now made the whole outfit clench down on him. His arms were behind his back, and he was on his knees with his calves and feet tied to his thighs. He couldn’t close his legs or move his hips. His crotch was left completely open, exposing himself to the room while two lengths of rope purposefully parted his ass. Sam got a rush of submissive pleasure, breathing heavily in his chest.

“Still feel good, darling?” Crowley smirked.

Sam nodded weakly, “Yeah.”

Crowley noticed it again. Sam was much easier than normal. So Crowley decided to take full advantage. He took some extra rope from the table. This time he got down in front of Sam, making him look up blindly. Sam felt Crowley’s hot breath on his chest, and he immediately knew what Crowley was doing. Sam got a jolt of arousal right to his cock.

Crowley was binding Sam’s cock and balls, too. Sam flexed his jaw, the only part of him he could move without consequence. Soon, his felt his cock and balls lifted off of his body and made completely vulnerable by a series of silky knots.

Crowley stepped back at last. Sam could feel his gaze heating him.

“You are simply stunning, Samantha.” Crowley purred.

“It’s Sam.” He panted.

Crowley smirked, “We’ll see about that.”

Sam heard Crowley’s dress shoes click away yet again, and Sam took the opportunity to try and calm himself. It was useless. He’d never been so turned on, and Crowley hadn’t even done anything to him yet. He flexed his legs and felt the rope respond around his balls and cock. Sam let out a shallow breath.

“Sam. Why don’t you take a look?” Crowley returned and removed Sam’s blindfold.

Sam’s eyes were a little red. He looked down and finally understood what Crowley was talking about. Every muscle and curve of Sam’s body was embraced by black rope. He was bound up artfully, with every erogenous area exposed to Crowley’s penetrating gaze. Sam could even feel his hole spread behind him, vulnerable to the night air. He glanced up at Crowley, who was giving him that burning look again.

“Now, Sam.” Crowley began stalking around him, “I have a theory. Tell me if I’m right.”

Sam swallowed.

“You called me tonight for a chat, yes?” Crowley recalled, “Needed my advice on a demon case. I gave you my advice, plenty of advice, actually, then you asked for more. Some… in-person advice.”

Sam couldn’t deny any of this.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Samantha.”


Crowley cut him off and Sam eyes fell shut.

“You play the part well,” Crowley went on, “acting as though you would love nothing more than to slit my throat in front of Squirrel. But...” Crowley swept Sam’s hair off of the back of his neck as he circled him, “You play the part too well. You won’t even look at me when I talk to you now. Why is that?” Crowley knelt down beside him.

Sam kept his eyes shut and locked his jaw.

“You don’t have to answer. I’ve already figured it out. It’s why you wanted to meet so badly tonight...”

Sam’s whole body trembled.

Crowley leaned over Sam’s shoulder to whisper hotly in his ear, “It’s my voice. Isn’t it?” He accused, his voice gravelly and darker than ever, “You get off on it. Don’t you, Samantha?”

Sam felt his breath leave him. He gaped wordlessly, unable to speak.

“Ah… there it is.” Crowley purred.

He was so close to Sam’s ear, speaking so softly that Sam could feel his voice vibrating through him.

“You love the sound... of my voice. All those questionable phone calls you’ve made, asking for my help on a case when you really just want to hear me talk… I’ll bet Dean has no idea about those calls. Because I’ll bet you make them when you’re alone... so you can touch yourself while I flirt and tease you... While I tell you how I want you bound naked in my bed.”

Sam had become so immobilized by arousal that he was almost tipping over onto the floor. Sam couldn’t respond, he was so focused not shaking and causing his bonds to stimulate him further.

“Mmm, yes, Samantha. I’ll bet, what you really want, more than anything, is for me to talk dirty to you for hours. And hours. I’ll bet, if I really wanted to, right here and now, I could talk you to orgasm... without even laying a finger...” He hovered a finger over Sam’s vulnerable erection, “...on your cock. Would you like that?”

Sam finally looked at him, and his expression confirmed each and everything Crowley had said.

Crowley’s eyes raked down Sam’s body in satisfaction, his lips ghosting over Sam’s. He drew a finger down Sam’s arm, down his thigh, and then, finally, under his balls. Sam gaped in shock.

“Cr...Crowley.” Sam couldn’t help it. He resisted out of reflex and his ropes caught him. They held him firmly in place as Crowley reached down and touched the head of Sam’s leaking cock. Sam’s jaw dropped and his eyes fluttered closed.

“Mm...” Crowley dabbed the precum beaded up at his slit and Sam bit back a moan. It felt like he’d been electrocuted. Crowley withdrew his finger, pulling a strand of precum away from Sam’s length. He lifted his finger to his lips, inches away from Sam’s, and sucked Sam’s precum off.

Sam watched in hazy disbelief.

Crowley popped the finger out of his mouth. “Thought so.” He smirked dangerously.

Sam swallowed.


Crowley stood up, leaving Sam a trembling mess on the floor.

“One last thing.” Crowley took another piece of rope and strolled around Sam’s back.

After a bit of messing around which Sam didn’t have the strength to turn around and watch, he felt Crowley tighten something behind him… and lift him. Sam felt all his willpower power leave him on the floor as Crowley suspended him from the ceiling. When Crowley was done, Sam’s knees hovered over the ground and he was tipped forward slightly, his cock pointing towards the floor and his ass up, waist height with Crowley. Sam reached a new level of ecstasy he hadn’t thought possible.

Crowley dragged a hand up Sam’s ass, then slapped it, hard.

Sam gasped, “Crowley!”

“There we are.” Crowley smiled, “How’s that feel, love?”

Sam took a steadying breath and dropped his head again, “Good. It feels good.” He answered honestly. He tested his bonds and felt them restrict him even further, making his ecstasy expand.

Crowley was satisfied with that answer. He groped Sam’s ass again, making Sam’s head go fuzzy. Crowley stroked the cane marks on Sam’s ass from last week. Then he spanked him again.

“F… fuck!” Sam breathed.

Crowley loved the sharp breaths Sam took. He loved the way Sam’s body jumped in his bonds. Most of all, he loved the way Sam got off on it. This wasn't punishment; this was a reward. Crowley raked his nails down Sam’s ass and Sam groaned.

“You should have told me you wanted to hear my voice, Sam.” Crowley slapped him again and groped him firmly, watching Sam clench down.

Sam shuddered. The aftershocks of pain infiltrated his every muscle, driving pleasure into him.

“You should have come clean. Told me that you wanted to hear me talk dirty....”

Another slap, this time dangerously close to Sam’s spread hole. Sam groaned and trembled.

“...That you wanted to pleasure yourself to the sound of my voice.”

Soon Sam’s ass was blotchy and red, and Sam was so high in his head that he thought he’d never come down. Crowley gave him a break and massaged his ass fondly, almost lovingly, admiring the newest additions to the perfect canvas that was Sam’s ass. Just as Sam was catching his breath, Crowley slid his thumb against Sam’s hole and rubbed it lightly, making Sam writhe in earnest.


“I wonder.” Crowley purred in amusement, “Can you cum like this? Rubbing you right here... while I tell you all the naughty things I’m going to do to you?” Crowley kept rubbing. He circled and teased him, loving all of Sam’s twitches and gasps, “Like how I’m going to make you watch while I pleasure myself to you, now... Sam Winchester... Hunter. Hero. All tied up for me...”

Sam moaned.

“...Dripping for me.” Crowley slid the tip of his thumb just barely inside of Sam and circled it around and around.

Sam was wrecked, dribbling precum onto the floor and groaning. Crowley slapped his ass again, making Sam clench down on Crowley’s thumb.

“Crowley! Crowley, please!” Sam shouted.

“Please… what?” Crowley stopped. He walked around Sam and tilted his chin up to look him in the eye.

Sam’s pupils were blown. He was sweating and gaping at Crowley, “Touch me. Please.”

Crowley smirked and Sam felt it go right to his cock, “No.” He said simply, then walked back to the table.

Sam bit back a groan. He could see himself leaking on the floor. He used the time to try and steady himself, but he didn’t have nearly as much control over his body as he should have. Sam didn’t understand how Crowley always did that to him, but he loved it in a way he couldn’t explain. It was such a relief.

When Crowley returned, he circled back around to Sam’s ass. Sam held his breath, but he didn’t feel Crowley’s hand again. He felt cool, slick silicon. Crowley was plugging him. It wasn’t deep enough to give him any satisfaction, except for the satisfaction of knowing that Crowley was stretching him for something bigger.

Once the plug was safely inserted, Crowley dipped down and teased Sam’s stretched hole with his tongue.

Sam shivered, his breath catching in his chest.

“Cr...Crow...” Sam groaned through his teeth.

Crowley circled the plug in satisfaction, wedging his tongue around the tight ring of muscle framed by rope, listing to the noises it elicited.

Sam gaped and sputtered, unable to say another word. Crowley knew Sam lost it when he rimmed him. Sam’s whole body throbbed, and he thought he’d lose his mind for sure. It didn’t last, though. Too soon Crowley stopped and walked around Sam. Sam eyed him desperately, his cock aching for contact. He didn’t ask for it again, though. He already knew the answer.

Crowley was pleased by Sam’s understanding of his situation. He sat himself at the chair with the straps, facing Sam. Crowley rose a brow at him, “Now, Samantha, on a scale from one to ten, how are you feeling right now?” He played, unbuckling his pants.

“Screw you.” Sam huffed. He would have smiled if he wasn’t so lost in what Crowley was doing.

Crowley’s smile darkened, “Not yet, love. First I’m going to screw myself and make you watch. I want you to see the pleasure I’m denying you.” True to his word, Crowley slipped his cock out of his pants, allowing Sam to look all he wanted. Crowley knew Sam loved his cock. Crowley hadn’t sold his mortal soul for nothing, “I want you to imagine that it’s your cock in my hand, getting stroked and pet and fondled, while you’re helpless to stop it. To do anything but take it.” Crowley said, his eyes foreboding.

Sam panted, screwing up his concentration to just endure Crowley’s voice; That raspy, low, growl of a voice that set Sam alight with lust.

“And you will take it.” Crowley went on, twisting his fist over the head of his cock, “Because when I’m done here, I’m going to force that last piece of defiance out of you. I’m going to fuck it out of you, and make you wholly and truly mine. I’m going to make you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything. I’m going to make you beg for it, Samantha.”

Sam moaned. He couldn’t even correct Crowley’s misuse of his name. He didn’t even want to. It was so twisted, being hung there watching Crowley pleasure himself while Sam’s entire body ached and trembled and leaked on the floor in need.

“And do you know what I’m going to do to you once you’re mine?” Crowley rasped. His voice was sultry and hot. He was clearly close to orgasm, “I going to spend every night reminding you of it. I’m going to tie you up like this for days, pleasuring you endlessly, until you forget your own name. You’ll be my pet.”

Sam’s eyes went hazy.

“I’m going to milk you dry, Sam. Over. And over. And over again. And I’m never going to stop.”

Crowley voice seemed to have at last broken Sam. He hung there in complete submission, his cock throbbing while Crowley grunted and came into his own hand.

“That’s it Sam.” Crowley sighed, “You’re all mine. Mind, body, and soul.” Crowley’s eyes flashed red for a moment, and Sam could practically feel his own soul aching to be devoured by Crowley.

Once Crowley put himself back together, he got up to inspect Sam. He traced his fingertips over the ropes, giving Sam’s hot skin just the slightest breeze of contact. Then Crowley reached under Sam and gave his balls a firm squeeze.

Sam groaned through his teeth, his cock weeping onto the floor.

Crowley smirked, “Very good, Sam. Keep this full for me.” He whispered in Sam’s ear, fondling him possessively.

Crowley released him, fingering the intricate knotting around Sam’s cock and balls as Sam gasped for air. Crowley moved around Sam and extracted the plug from his ass. Sam’s hole felt even more exposed now that it was stretched, and Crowley took full advantage. He slid a slickened finger into Sam, and with a rush of arousal Sam realized it was Crowley’s cum. Crowley was lubing him up with his cum. Sam swallowed a moan.

“That’s it, Sam. Relax.” Crowley cooed. Sam’s prostate went as untouched as Sam’s cock, pulsing just as hungrily, “We’ll be doing this all night.”

Once Sam was wet and stretched, Crowley inserted a different toy. Sam felt a beaded dildo press into him, each bulge opening him over and over. Sam couldn’t help but moan that time.

“Good pet. That’s it. Take it.” Crowley encouraged in Sam’s ear. The dildo was a decent size, but still not as big as Crowley’s cock. Crowley was the biggest Sam had ever had. Once the dildo was fully inserted, Crowley played with it lazily, twisting it deep inside Sam’s body.

Sam writhed in his bonds. He twisted and panted in desperation, but Crowley didn’t stop. He dragged it up and down Sam’s walls, never touching his prostate.

“Crowley...” Sam whined.

Crowley didn’t answer him. He bent down and resumed rimming him.

For a split second, Sam actually thought he was going to come. His balls tightened, making Sam gasp and moan, but the sensation wasn’t enough to tip him over the edge. He teetered there for minutes, just groaning.

“Oh, very good, Sam.” Crowley could tell how close Sam had just gotten. He kept teasing him, keeping him in that mind-shattering state of near release, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you come in due time. But until then, I’ve got you right where I want you. So relax. Enjoy it.”

Sam couldn’t even try to relax, not with Crowley edging him. Sam moaned, unable to do anything but tremble on the verge of orgasm, defenseless against even the smallest drag and lick. When Crowley finally stopped, Sam went limp. He couldn’t control it. He’d reached a depth of submissive pleasure that he never had with anyone.

Crowley was hard again, “So good, pet. That’s it. You’re absolutely perfect.” Crowley finally removed himself from Sam’s entrance, leaving the dildo deep in him.

Sam didn’t question it. He didn’t question anything. When Crowley walked around he had to cup Sam’s face and hold him up to look at him.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Crowley purred. He kissed Sam’s slack lips, and Sam was able to summon just enough strength to kiss him back. It was a surprisingly tender kiss. Crowley opened it to give Sam a taste of himself mixed with Crowley’s cum. It sent an unrestrained shiver of arousal down Sam’s body.

Sam lost himself in the kiss, but so did Crowley. It was a possessive, savoring kiss; like Crowley was trying to absorb him. Sam’s submission seemed to have awoken something needy in Crowley. Something human. And after Sam’s overwhelmingly vulnerable display, Crowley didn’t mind giving Sam some of his own vulnerability in return.

It wasn’t so bad, actually.

Distantly, Sam felt Crowley unzipping his pants again.

When Crowley spoke again, his voice was soft and warm, “Do you like when I touch myself thinking of you?” He rasped.

Sam nodded weakly.

Crowley smiled, “I’ll have to do it more often, then. How’s that sound? You’ll be on a hunt, or saving the world, or whatever it is you boys do now, and I’ll text you. I’ll tell you I’m thinking of you. And you’ll know exactly what that means.” Crowley nipped Sam’s lips affectionately, stroking himself below, “It’ll mean I’m imagining myself... parting your ass with my cock… sinking it deep into your body. So… so… deep. Making you moan my name over and over again. Would you like that, Sam?” He breathed.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded again.

Crowley kissed Sam’s temple, his voice softer and more gravelly than ever in Sam’s ear, “Would you like my cock now, love? Would you like me to show you exactly what I mean?”

Sam moaned softly, “Yes.”

Crowley gripped his chin and bit his ear in reward, “Good pet.” He growled.

Sam gasped hungrily. It was such a sinful sound that Crowley couldn’t help but take it a step further. Stroking himself faster, Crowley tilted Sam’s head and planted his lips just under Sam’s ear, leaving a deep, blood red love-bite high on his neck. Sam groaned in realization. Crowley was marking him. And it wasn’t a concealable mark like the ones Crowley normally left. Crowley was marking him somewhere everyone could see. Sam had never let him do that before, but now, Sam drooped his head on Crowley’s shoulder, giving him full permission. The gesture filled Crowley with a pleasure so strong that felt himself racing to orgasm. He lost himself in Sam for a moment, making out with his neck.

Finally, Crowley popped his lips off of Sam’s swollen skin, stroking the deepest mark he’d left on him yet, “Oh, Sam. You’re all mine.” Crowley’s gaze was fire. He raked his hand through Sam’s hair, about to bring himself to a second orgasm.

The look Sam gave him in return, absolutely wrecked with desire, had Crowley coming at last. He groaned tightly and came on Sam’s cock and balls, “Every inch of you. Mine.” He purred.

The feeling of Crowley coming on him was the most contact Sam’s cock had received all day, and yet, it wasn’t what sent Sam right back to the edge of orgasm. It was Crowley’s voice. It was Crowley claiming him. It was Crowley needing him. It was each any every mark on him, culminating in the single love bite on the side of his neck for everyone to see.

Once Crowley was finished, he removed himself from Sam and walked back around him. For a moment Sam thought Crowley was pulling himself back together. Sam hadn’t seen him so lost in pleasure since he was injecting human blood. It was the sexiest thing Sam had ever seen. But Crowley wasn’t finished with Sam.

Crowley pulled the dildo out of Sam one bead at a time, relishing in the moan it drew out of Sam’s body. Crowley watched as Sam’s sinfully stretched hole parted over each bead, then swallowed again around the next. Each bead send a fresh wave of arousal through Sam’s body.

“I’m going to fuck you, Sam.” Crowley hummed, “I wanted to watch your body swallow mine.”

Sam was shaking.

Crowley finally withdrew the last bead from Sam’s body and tossed the dildo aside carelessly. Sam felt Crowley adjusting the ropes, widening Sam’s legs to their full extent.

“So flexible, Sam.” Crowley purred, “Do you think of my cock inside you when you stretch? Do you imagine me filling you with my demonic seed?”

Sam gasped and nodded.

Crowley smirked, stroking Sam’s ass, “Good boy.”

Sam felt Crowley spread his ass even wider, then felt his hand grope him from his hole to his balls. Sam had never felt so claimed.

“You look so gorgeous like this, Samantha.” Crowley rasped. He collected the cum coating Sam’s balls and applied it to his cock. Then he set his head at Sam’s entrance and slowly, finally, pressed it inside.

Sam moaned shamelessly. Crowley was so big. Sam could feel him filling his body in way no one else ever had, reaching spots that had never even been touched by anyone but Crowley.

Crowley gripped Sam’s thighs and used the suspension to slide him even further onto Crowley’s cock. Sam groaned and writhed desperately. Crowley only stopped once Sam’s perineum was resting against the cold buckle of his pants. Sam’s whole body was visibly trembling, and Crowley’s head was tilted back in pleasure.

“Relax, pet.” Crowley cooed. His voice was heavy with lust, but he wasn't as far gone as Sam, “I won’t fuck you until you relax.”

Sam was normally quite good at relaxing, but not with Crowley sitting so heavily in him. He actually felt the ropes suspending him shift with the additional weight.

Sensing that Sam needed help, Crowley reached down and squeezed his balls again. Sam grunted and whined, trying to curl in on himself. But it worked. Sam felt a fresh wave of submissive ecstasy and went pliant.

“Stay.” Crowley threatened.

Sam stayed, and in the next second, Crowley was pulling out and pumping back into him. Sam groaned, clenching down on him.

Crowley stopped abruptly, panting, “I said relax.”

How was Sam supposed to control himself when it felt like Crowley was trying to possess him with his cock? Sam took a deep breath, trying his hardest to relax around Crowley.

Crowley thrust again. This time, the lack of restraint from Sam’s muscles made the sensation shiver so deep into Sam’s body that he lost the ability to move. He’d had never felt anything so intense.

“Mm… much better.” Crowley growled. He gave Sam another deep thrust, and Sam moaned in satisfaction.

Soon it seemed not even Crowley could control himself. His hips were slapping against Sam’s ass and Sam was groaning. Crowley lit up his every nerve, sending spark after spark into the most sensitive parts of his body, until Sam’s cock was throbbing and begging to come.

“So good, Sam. You’re still so tight.” Crowley encouraged.

Sam was hung over in the air, being fucked like a toy with Crowley panting and grunting into his ear.

“I want to keep you tied up here and fuck you every hour. Keep you lubed up, on edge, dripping for my cock while I meet with crossroads demons and sign contracts. You’ll be my little secret. Sam Winchester. My gorgeous little pet.”

Sam moaned. Crowley’s voice pierced him as deeply as his cock.

“I’m going to let you off easy tonight, Sammy. Because I’m so impressed. Your body wants me so bad, it can’t get enough of me, can it? Swallowing up every... last... inch...” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, then he angled his cock down, giving it a slow, practiced rub into Sam’s prostate.

Sam’s body seized up in shock as he was suddenly hurled right to the edge of orgasm. His jaw dropped, his back arching against the rope.

“Crowley!” Sam gasped, “Oh, Crowley! Yes!”

Sam’s plea was so beautiful. Crowley couldn’t help himself. He came right there, filling Sam’s ass and watching it seep out around his cock. Sam could feel the cum dripping down the back of Sam’s thighs. Crowley moaned, and it was a moan Sam had never heard before. Even in Sam’s current state, his body shaking in ecstasy, Sam knew he had left a mark on Crowley as deep as the one throbbing on Sam’s neck.

Crowley pressed his head into Sam’s prostate one more, marking that, too, as he whispered hotly in Sam’s ear, “Come.”

That was it. Sam moaned so hard his voice broke. His balls tightened and he felt an orgasm stronger than any he’d ever experienced burst deep within him. It was tortuously slow, shooting through his cock without any direct stimulation. It rocked Sam to his very core.

Crowley could tell his hips were trying to thrust by how hard bonds shook. He gave Sam a third and final press to his prostate, making Sam whine and come even harder. It was the most erotic thing Crowley had ever seen. He hadn’t touched Sam’s cock once, yet there he was, so deep in ecstasy that Sam couldn’t even speak.

“That’s it, Sam.” Crowley rasped. He reached under Sam to help massage the last few drops out of his balls. Sam whimpered. He actually whimpered.

Sam went limp in his bonds, and Crowley knew Sam was done. He pulled the last few inches of his cock out of Sam, loving how completely lax his muscles were. Crowley zipped himself up, then walked around Sam.

Sam was a mess. His chest was heaving and his hair was splayed around his face. He was flushed all over, making each and every one of Crowley’s marks stand out vividly beneath the tight, black rope. Crowley picked Sam’s head up and swept the hair out of his face. Crowley kissed him, tasting him in absolute bliss. Sam kissed him back, as if he were waking from a dream. Crowley’s hand drifted down and, for the first time that night, picked up Sam’s cock. Crowley could feel Sam’s heartbeat in his palm.

Sam twitched, feeling his entire world narrow down to the contact he’d been craving for so long. Now, he couldn’t handle it. It was like a lightning bolt through his body. Crowley stroked Sam’s cock lazily, loving how it made Sam’s body jolt and spasm in its post orgasm sensitivity. Crowley even swirled a finger around Sam’s slit. Sam broke the kiss, shaking violently against Crowley’s shoulder.

“Hm. So naughty, Sam. I could tease you like this for hours and you’d love every second of it, wouldn’t you?” Crowley breathed.

Crowley had discovered months ago that Sam loved to be stimulated after orgasm. Every touch gave Sam such sharp, direct pleasure that it hurt. It was Sam’s favorite kind of pain. Sam thrust weakly, only managing to swing a little bit. Crowley smirked. He teased Sam’s slit, leaving Sam hovering in his post-orgasmic state and rocking on Crowley’s shoulder.

“That’s it, Sam. Relax. You’re still mine.” Crowley drew his free hand up to play with Sam’s nipples, and he got a little more slick out of Sam’s cock, “You’ll always be mine.” Crowley nudged Sam’s jaw and left another, final hickey on the opposite side of Sam’s neck while he played possessively with Sam’s abused cock.

Sam had never felt so claimed. Finally, Crowley seemed content with the damage he’d done and stepped back to admire it all. Sam was bitten up, bruised, wet, and trembling in relief. There was a puddle on the floor beneath him. And all of it was for Crowley.

“What do you say, Sam?” Crowley stroked his hair fondly, “Are you going to be upfront with me from now on? Hm? Tell me everything?”

Sam panted, “Yes.”

“Prove it.”

Sam looked up at him, seeing double. He could feel his heartbeat thumping in every vein; he could feel it in every stretched muscle and bound limb, “I want you. Crowley. I want your voice. Your cock. Everything.” His voice was hoarse, “I want you to… to tie me up and use me. Every day. Never want you to stop.”

“Never, Sam? Really?” Crowley felt a rush of pleasure spread through completely unlike any he’d felt that night. By that point, Crowley knew it was too late. He couldn’t go another day without seeing Sam like this again. They’d left their marks on each other, in blood and flesh, in mind and soul.

“Never.” Sam breathed stubbornly.

Crowley grinned, “So good, Samantha.”

Sam took a wrecked breath, “It’s… Sam.”

Crowley’s grin widened deviously, “Oh. You’re loving this, aren’t you?”


Crowley was finally satisfied. He let Sam down and began gently untying him. Sam had gone completely slack, but Crowley’s inhuman strength proved more than capable of supporting him. Crowley whispered in his ear the whole time, telling Sam how good he was, how much Crowley was going to treat him again the next night. And the night after that. And after that…

Finally Sam was unbound and laying against Crowley’s chest. The ropes had left an intricate, red design all over Sam’s body, and Crowley was tracing the lines with his fingers. He watched the lines breathe with Sam, his every muscle relaxed and humming with satisfaction. Crowley stroked the marks on Sam’s neck, admiring them especially. There was something sinfully beautiful about having Sam, by his own will, completely limp and vulnerable in Crowley’s lap; This dangerous hunter who’d stopped the apocalypse, resting on Crowley.

“Sam…” Crowley cooed, seeing him stir, “Sam.” He nearly sang to him.

Sam lifted his arm and felt the line of Crowley’s suit sleeve, as if confirming that it wasn’t a dream.

“Twenty minutes, Sam. That’s a new record.” Crowley purred, kissing the marks on his neck.

“Hm?” Sam looked around wearily, “Really? Twenty minutes?”

Crowley smiled in satisfaction, “Oh yes.”

Sam usually rebounded much faster. As he took in his surroundings, he realized that the warmth and comfort he was enjoying was actually Crowley spooning him. It wasn't like Crowley to cuddle him after sex; definitely not for twenty minutes. Sam was actually a little embarrassed. But Crowley’s Armani cologne mixed with the smell of sweat and sex pushed every thought out of Sam’s head and replaced it with warmth.

Sam sat up and stretched. He looked like he had a hangover. Crowley was beyond impressed. He took Sam by the chin and kissed him.

“Same time tomorrow?” Crowley purred, “Let’s try to knock you out for thirty minutes, hmm?”

Sam took in a hazy breath, “Definitely.” He smiled. He couldn’t help it.

Crowley got up and sat in the chair while Sam cleaned himself off and got dressed. Crowley looked like the King of Sex Hell. Or Heaven, depending on how you looked at it.

Sam smirked at him, “What?”

“Just… enjoying the view.”

Sam huffed a smile. He’d never felt so good after one of their encounters. And the thought of doing it tomorrow felt even better. As Sam was pulling his pants up, he felt Crowley stop him. Crowley was at his side, giving Sam a curious look.

“Feel like trying something new?”

“Like what?” Sam raised a brow.

Crowley raised a brow back at him. He went to the table without any more explanation. Sam watched him, waiting with his pants around his butt. Crowley returned with a something small and metal in his hand. It sent a Sam fresh wave of arousal down his spine.

It was a cock cage.

“How would you feel about being mine, twenty-four-seven?” Crowley mused, pleased by Sam’s speechlessness.

Sam nodded shakily, “Yeah. Okay.”

Crowley smirked. He slipped a hand down Sam’s boxers and withdrew Sam’s flaccid cock. Sam watched hazily as Crowley maneuvered Sam’s cock and balls through the ring at the base of the cage, sliding it firmly up against Sam’s body.

“This is the largest cage I have, Sam.” Crowley hummed in approval, locking the cage around Sam’s cock, “I don’t call you ‘Moose’ for nothing.”

Sam laughed breathlessly. The cage was more snug than Sam imagined.

“Wouldn’t want you spoiling our date tomorrow night.” Crowley flirted.

Sam’s chest swelled, “You’re not going to let me do anything productive tomorrow, are you?”

“Not in the slightest.” Crowley replied wickedly.

When it came time to lock the cage, Crowley didn’t use a key. He touched the metal, and red etchings glowed along the cage, and Sam’s cock and balls. Sam stared at it in surprise. Crowley removed his hand and the etchings disappeared. Sam couldn’t see them anymore, but he knew they were there. He could feel them. He gaped at Crowley.

“Now nothing can get to your cock, Sam.” Crowley answered his unasked question, “Nothing, but me.”


“And Sam...” Crowley added, “I’ll be calling you. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of the sound of my voice.”

How could Crowley be so damned sexy all the time?

Crowley smirked, “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is… because I know you love it.”

Sam huffed anxiously, “Right.” Sam reached down and felt the cock cage for himself, getting a rush at how sturdy it was, “You’d better not stand me up.” He warned.

Crowley kissed Sam and helped pull his pants up over the cage, “I wouldn’t dream of it, love.” Crowley said. Then he patted the front Sam’s pants, and more importantly the cage, making Sam jump slightly.

“Perfect.” Crowley smiled, “Until tomorrow, Samantha.”


But Crowley was gone.

“...Sam.” Sam deflated.

Sam looked around the barn, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he looked down his pants. Dammit. That was bad. But it was also very, very hot. Sam bit his lip and smiled.


Sam walked wobbly-legged back to the car. He kept trying to adjust the cage in his pants, but it was useless. He got into the car and sank into the seat. It was almost five in the morning. Dean was probably awake and wondering where the hell Sam and the car were. Sam checked the obvious hickey marks in the Impala’s rear view mirror. Not even his coat collar covered them. Sam tried patting his hair down around it but gave up. He had no idea how he was going to explain himself, and get through a five hour car ride while wearing a cage.

Sam decided the best way to start was with a triple-red-eye, and some apology double bacon burgers for Dean. Sam pulled away from the barn and began the drive, somehow feeling lighter than ever.

Chapter Text

Sensory Overload


Sam smelled like Fall. It was a husky scent; like bergamot, cinnamon cloves, and rose. After a shower, he smelled like rain. Sometimes he smelled like gasoline, leather, and a little citrus, but Castiel knew that was Dean’s smell. He could always tell when they’d been in the car together for long periods of time. Castiel could also tell what Sam had eaten that day, but he didn’t like to bring it up. Sam always looked at him funny when he said things like that.

Castiel loved Sam’s smells, but he also loved his taste. He was earthy and deep, and he tasted even better after a sip or two of whiskey. The sweet perfume of alcohol complimented his natural flavor so well. Castiel couldn’t get enough, stealing as many kisses as he thought he could get away with. Luckily, Sam had an endless supply and was never bothered by Castiel’s brusqueness.

Sam always smelled and tasted the best, however, immediately after a hunt. It brought out his most raw, enduring smells that Castiel could taste on his tongue. It smelled like wet pine, fire, and pure sex. It pressed heavily against Castiel’s senses, making him weak. Sam would come home soaked in adrenaline, dripping with a carnality so close to breaking through his surface. It was better than that first peanut butter and jelly sandwich Castiel had ever eaten. It was wholly, and sinfully, Sam.

Sam’s carnality never broke over, though. Sam had more self-control than most angels Castiel knew; more than Castiel, anyway…

One day Sam came home drenched in sweat and blood, running on two hours of sleep and five espressos. Castiel helped him with his jacket, and he couldn’t help but press his nose in against the back of Sam’s neck. Castiel’s lips brushed against Sam’s hair, clinging to his hot, damp skin.

“Uh… Cas?” Sam huffed then smiled. “What are you doing?”

Castiel slipped his arms around Sam’s waist. He could feel Sam’s back rising and falling against his chest.

“It’s good to see you, too.” Sam joked.

Castiel kissed Sam’s neck, making Sam’s heart pound. He could feel Castiel’s half hard cock pressing against his thigh.

“Can I take a shower first?” Sam’s smile warmed.

Castiel wasn’t sure what it was about this time in particular, but he knew there was no way Sam was getting to that shower. “No,” he said firmly.

Sam swallowed, getting a jolt of arousal right to his cock. Sam turned to face Castiel, and Castiel shoved him onto the bed.

Sam was completely caught off guard. It normally took a lot to get Castiel riled up, but there he was, taking off his trench coat like a porn star. Sam wasn’t sure what going on, but he wasn’t going to question it.

“I’ll shower later. Yeah.” Sam nodded breathlessly.

Castiel smiled.

Sam stripped on the bed while Castiel stripped in front of him. Castiel was already fully erect. The sight gave Sam chills. He lived for these moments, when Castiel’s lust was so strong he reverted to some primordial angel claiming his mate.

Castiel’s eyes raked over Sam’s body. He was a mess from the hunt, but the smell was heaven to Castiel. Sam’s tanned, hard body spread out for him, soaked in adrenaline and heat. Castiel climbed over Sam and took him into an all consuming kiss.

Sam’s hands ran up Castiel’s firm body, kissing him hotly. It was a rough, demanding kiss. They fought for each other’s tastes, nipping and tugging at each other naked on Sam’s bed.

“Cas...” Sam panted out of the kiss, “Can you… do the thing?”

Castiel kissed Sam’s face, still holding him by the side of his jaw. “Yes,” he purred.

Sam’s heart skipped a beat.

Castiel lifted his hand to Sam’s forehead.

With a rush, Sam felt his body shift, “Oh...”

The sound was music to Castiel’s ears. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed Sam’s thighs, pulled him down, and spread him open for Castiel’s leaking cock. Sam watched hungrily as Castiel pressed his cock against Sam’s entrance and slid right in. They groaned in unison, chests heaving with every inch deeper. Sam’s back arched and his head tipped back.

Normally Sam enjoyed a lot of foreplay, but having Castiel angel-grace him fully lubed and stretched in a split second was hotter than all the foreplay in the world.

“F...fuck, Cas!” Sam’s eyes fluttered shut as Castiel kept pushing.

Castiel panted softly, his body tense. He could taste Sam in the air. His sweat, his lust, his cock leaking below. It was heaven. He wanted to savor each and every drop of it and make it seep out of Sam’s every pore. Castiel leaned entirely on Sam’s exposed ass, burying himself completely, and groaned in carnal satisfaction.

Sam shuddered, stretched out on Castiel’s cock.

Castiel seemed to have a moment of clarity in which he looked at Sam. Sam panted, then rolled his hips on Castiel’s cock in response, “Fuck me, Cas.”

Castiel’s breath hitched. In the next second, he was pulling out and fucking Sam hard and fast. Sam’s groans of pleasure filled the room, matched only by Castiel’s. Sam normally had to ruffle Castiel’s feathers to get him to moan, but he was doing it freely now. The sound was pure sex. Sam closed his eyes and let his arms lay out beside him as Castiel passionately, forcefully, had his way with Sam.

There was something so beautiful about the way Sam lay like that, so open and expressive. He rolled his body against Castiel, fucking him back, letting each and every jolt of pleasure reflect clearly on his face. Castiel never took Sam to be a prude, but he never would have dreamt he could let himself go like that. And yet, he did it every time for Castiel.

“Yeah, Cas.” Sam heaved, mouth open wide, “Yeah… F...fuck.”

Castiel groped Sam from his cock to his chest, like he was trying to memorize him; each curve and muscle moving so sinfully in pleasure, pleasure that Castiel was giving him.

Suddenly, Sam felt Castiel leaning over him. Castiel captured Sam’s hands and locked them above his head. Sam opened his eyes, his vision going hazy with arousal. Castiel was shorter than him, but he was also stronger. Castiel lifted Sam’s thigh, bending him over so he could fuck him and pin his wrists together. The angle sent wave after wave of pleasure through Sam, making him groan in ecstasy.

Castiel buried his face in Sam’s neck. He could smell his sweat, his sex, his precum; it was all so heady and overwhelming; like the whole universe had been created just for this.

Sam’s fists were clenched, his body on fire with ecstasy. “Yeah, Cas! Yeah!”

Castiel groaned Sam’s name, angling his cock into Sam’s prostate. He knew that spot produced the best smells, and sounds, from Sam. Sure enough, Sam sputtered and gasped, moaning in earnest.

“Oh fuck! Fuck! Right there, Cas!”

Castiel felt Sam’s legs hook behind his back. He panted against Sam’s neck, fucking him so powerfully that he nearly lifted him off the bed with every thrust. He could taste Sam’s pleasure on his skin. He could smell it from his dripping cock. Castiel released Sam’s wrists to stroke him, eager to drive him over the edge. Sam gripped the headboard so hard that it whined in protest. He tossed his head back into the pillows, fucking Castiel back with all his might.

Castiel’s lips and teeth at his neck, his hand squeezing his cock, his hips rutting right into his prostate… Sam was completely broken. And Castiel could smell it. Castiel licked up Sam’s hot skin, tasting his sweat and impending orgasm.

“Do you like it when I fuck you, Sam?” Castiel rasped. It made Sam’s grip on the headboard tremble. “You like when I claim you? Dominate you?” His voice was quiet and dark, but Sam caught every word.

“Yes,” Sam answered honestly, unable to open his eyes.

Castiel doubled his efforts, making Sam whine and seize up in the sheets.

“Cas… Cas I’m gonna come!” Sam gasped.

Castiel kissed Sam deeply, “Then come,” he rumbled.

Sam moaned into Castiel’s lips. Within seconds, Castiel was stroking and kissing and fucking the cum right out of him. He orgasmed onto his chest, groaning in absolute satisfaction.

“Cas! Oh, Cas! Yes!” Sam’s hips shuddered as his body vibrated in orgasmic bliss. His legs squeezed around Castiel hard. “Yes...”

That was Castiel’s favorite smell. All of Sam’s smells condensed to one, pure, beautiful musk, seeping out of his cock and onto his chest. Castiel dipped down to taste it fresh. He licked his tongue up Sam’s wrecked, heaving body. It was so intoxicating that, in the next second, he came into Sam’s ass with a heartfelt groan, hips splayed against Sam. Sam mirrored the sound, feeling Castiel fill him up.

Slowly, Castiel’s thrusts came to a halt, leaving the two of them panting and heaving in unison. Sam’s arms fell above him as Castiel continued lapping up his release. They rarely had time to enjoy the aftermath in peace, so Sam was eager to lay back and savor it, even though he needed a shower worse than ever. Castiel stayed lodged in Sam’s body while he licked off his sweat and cum, tasting the curves of Sam’s chiseled stomach and chest.

“Can you taste that?” Sam asked hazily, “Doesn’t it taste like… molecules?”

Castiel licked a bit of Sam’s cum off his lips and looked up, “Your molecules taste good.” He answered.

Sam felt a rush of fondness for Castiel. He smiled. “We’re doing this again.”

Castiel didn’t hesitate. “Yes. We are.” He leaned forward and kissed Sam, sharing that taste with him.

Castiel pulled out of him as they kissed. Sam put his feet back on the bed and held Castiel to him. Sam could have fallen asleep right there. When Castiel pulled away, he lifted Sam under the knees again. Sam glanced down and watched Castiel begin to lick at Sam’s entrance.

Sam jumped slightly. “Cas...” He smiled, putting an arm over his eyes.

“Mm,” Castiel responded, licking his own cum seeping out of Sam.

It was the oddest, most wonderful sensation Sam had ever felt. He lay there peacefully, letting Castiel lick him clean. He had no idea how his tongue could be so arousing and so relaxing at the same time. When Castiel was finally satiated, he helped Sam up.

“You can take a shower now,” Castiel concluded.

Sam grinned. “You’re coming with me.” He said, “Come on. We both need a shower now.”

Castiel knew Sam was right, so he followed him into the bathroom.

Chapter Text

How to Make Sammy Sleep


Sam was sick. He wasn’t cursed. He wasn’t bitten. He wasn’t even fighting some ghost illness. He was just sick. Dean noticed it a few days ago and, rather than work itself out as Sam insisted it would, it was getting worse. Finally, Dean was fed up with hunting alongside a stuffy, coughing, bleary eyed mess. Sam had forced Dean’s hand. So when Sam woke up that morning and immediately began searching for cases online, Dean intervened.

“So, I’ve been thinking.” Sam said in his ridiculously nasally voice that Dean had given up making fun of in the hopes Sam would get pissed enough to take some damn DayQuil. “It’s that case I saw last night. I know you don’t think it’s a case, but...” Sam stopped abruptly, because Dean was herding him out of his chair at the Men of Letters’ table.

“What...what are you doing?” Sam said, getting to his feet.

“Couch.” Dean said. “Go.”


Dean glared him.

“Okay, but...” Sam swiped his laptop off the table as Dean jostled him in the direction of the bunker’s lounge area.

“Dean. Come on. This is serious.”

“I know it is.” Dean patronized, shoving Sam onto the couch.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He set his laptop on his knees, deciding it would be easier to humor Dean than fight. “Listen to this. Another body dropped this morning and the authorities are saying...” Sam stopped again, glancing over his shoulder. Dean was draping a heavy comforter over Sam’s shoulders. “Uh… Dean?”

“Mhm.” Dean replied, as casually as if he were making coffee.

“What are you doing?”

Dean pulled Sam’s shoulders back, making him recline so he could wrap the blanket around him. Dean didn’t have to answer.

“Dean, it’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” Dean said, walking back into the kitchen.

Sam rolled his eyes. He sat back up and continued to read aloud. “Look... Both bodies have the same ligature marks on their neck. I know you said they could have hung themselves, but...”

Dean reappeared with what Sam assumed was coffee.

“...thanks… but, three hangings in one city? Plus, this newest body is a woman and, statically speaking, it’s very rare for a woman to...”

Dean set a bottle of cough syrup next to the mug.

“...hang themselves. It’s an unusual method of suicide in a town this size, period. So I’m thinking… Dude!” Sam finally looked up as Dean plucked the laptop right out of his blanket covered lap.

“Drink.” Dean pointed at the cough syrup and mug, holding Sam’s laptop out of his reach.

Sam frowned, “I’m not sick!”

Dean gestured sternly to the cough syrup, then brought the laptop back to the table.

Sam sighed. Okay, maybe he was sick, but now he was also annoyed and he didn’t want to give Dean the satisfaction. When Dean returned to find Sam glaring at him from his blanket, he held back a laugh, then shoved the syrup and mug into Sam’s empty hands.

Sam realized it wasn’t coffee, it was tea. He smelled it despite himself. “Lemongrass?”

“Yup.” Dean folded his arms over his chest, watching Sam intently.

Something clicked in Sam’s head. “Dean. You wouldn’t do research to save your life. I’ve seen it.” Sam eyed him suspiciously. “Did you actually look up which tea...”

“Shaddup and drink.”

It was Sam’s turn to hold back a laugh. “Fine. But I’m not drinking this stuff.” He threw the cough syrup bottle back to Dean. “It’s disgusting.” He sipped the tea just to pacify Dean, even though he really did enjoy lemongrass.

Dean caught the bottle. His expression didn’t change. He stepped over Sam’s lap and pushed him back against the couch. Sam lowered his tea, staring up at his brother wearily.

Dean opened the bottle of cough syrup and poured a random amount into the cap, then held it in front of Sam’s face threateningly. “I will force you this down your throat.”

Sam glared at him. Finally, he snatched the syrup out of Dean’s hand. He gave him one more glare, then shot it, making a sour face. “Ugh. Wow.”

Dean smiled in satisfaction and took the bottle cap back. He removed himself from Sam’s space and returned to the kitchen.

Sam drank his scalding tea to get the taste out of his mouth. “That recipe hasn’t changed in thirty years, has it?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Dean called out. “I don’t get sick.”

“Right. Because you’re perfect.”

Dean returned to his side and resumed glaring at him.

Sam blinked. “What?”

Dean tilted his head.

Sam sighed and sat back, covering himself back up in the blanket. “Dean. I’m not going to just sit here all day. There’s a case in Oklahoma. We need to...”

“Jody’s already taking care of it. I called her last night. Meanwhile, you are going to sit there and get better.” He instructed. “Go on. Take a nap. Watch some porn.”

Sam huffed. “Right.” Dean hadn’t acted like this since they were kids. It was a little overwhelming. “Seriously, dude. I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’ll go crazy.” He said seriously.

“If I give you your laptop back, will you swear to me you’ll only use it for Spider Solitaire and porn?”

Sam really did smile that time. “Do you even hear yourself talk?”

“Fine. No laptop.” Dean walked away.

“Dean. Dean!” Sam groaned. “Come on.” Sam couldn’t see over the back of couch well enough to see what he was doing. “Fine! I’ll watch porn!”

Dean came back around with his laptop. “You fucking better.”

Sam smiled and took his laptop back. Dean kissed the top of his head and Sam brushed him off like a fly. “Get out of here. Go do the dishes or something.” He bit his lips, trying not to grin.

Yeah, this was unusual, but… it was kind of nice. Dean was rarely this controlling over Sam in their daily lives. Truthfully, Sam would go crazy if he were. But it was nice to feel like he was being taken care every once in a while.

Sam was absolutely shocked when, ten minutes later, he heard Dean actually doing the dishes.


Dean continued to amaze Sam by making him a grilled cheese sandwich for breakfast. Then he spent the rest of the morning doing all the miscellaneous chores Sam normally did around the bunker. Laundry, dishes, fortifying the demon warding; normal household things. Sam stopped complaining. Although he couldn’t help but notice Dean forgetting little things. He’d put the dishes in the wrong place after he washed them, he’d misorganize the books Sam had left out, and when Sam asked if he did the bloodied clothes separately, Dean just made a noise in the back of his throat.

Sam sighed. He’d grown tired of hiding his research under fifteen tabs of porn, which, how messed up were their lives that that was what he was doing? So when Sam thought Dean was far away in the bunker, he sneaked off the couch to reorganize things: He pulled all the towels out of the hamper and put them in a separate wash, he fixed the glass wear and moved the books, always jumping back onto couch whenever he heard Dean coming back.

Dean was growing suspicious. Was he losing his mind, or were things moving around the bunker of their own accord?

“You know, we might have a case right here, Sammy.” He said finally. “The case of the haunted laundry room.” He glared at him.

Sam put on a surprised face. “Dunno what you mean. I’m just watching uh…” He clicked a random tab. “...Hot Young College Web Cam 2: the Moistening.” He said with a straight face.

Dean paused. “That’s a good one.”

Sam stared in disbelief.

Dean finished cleaning up the study area then left the room again. Sam watched him go and, once he heard a door slam somewhere in the bunker, he carefully moved his laptop to couch arm and crept out of his blankets. Dean had arranged the case books completely out of order. It’s like he was doing it on purpose, now.

Sam was one leg off the couch when Dean swung around the corner.


Sam flew back to the couch, but it was too late.

“It knew it.” Dean shook his head pityingly. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? Can’t even relax for one afternoon.”

“What do you want from me, Dean?” Sam exclaimed. “There are only so many games of solitaire I can play.” Dean victorious little smile was maddening. “This is crazy! We should be out hunting! Who cares if I have a cold?”

“I care! I don’t want a hunting partner who’s off his game, or worse dead, because he won’t take five seconds for himself. You’re going to hurt yourself, Sam!” Dean said seriously. “You need to sit there, and… why don’t you take a nap or something? How many hours have you gotten this week? Three? That’s why you’re not getting better...”

“Thanks, Doctor.” Sam sighed.

Dean stared at him. “Fine.”

Sam watched huffily as Dean disappeared again. When he returned he had something in his hand. He walked over to Sam and held out an under-the-tongue thermometer.


“If you don’t have a fever, we’ll go on a hunt.” Dean offered him the thermometer.

Sam eyed him hesitantly, then took it. He turned it over, examining it. Sam couldn’t help but appreciate Dean’s subtle but persistent concern for his well-being. He also couldn’t help but ask, “Do you even know the normal human body temperature?”

Dean licked his lips, as if spotting a hole in his plan. “What is it?”

“A hundred.” Sam answered seriously.

“Bullshit.” Dean said. “Tell me or I’ll look it up.”

“Fine.” Sam bit back a smile. “It’s ninety eight point six.”

Dean stared at him closely, then pulled out his phone.

“What! You don’t trust me?”

“Not even a little.” Dean looked it up, smirking. His smirk fell when he found the answer. He glanced from the phone to Sam. He wanted to wipe Sam’s adorable little victory smile off his damn gorgeous face. “Whatever. Open up.”

“I can do it.” Sam said.

Dean glared at him. “You know, this thing works rectally...” He warned.

Sam’s smile returned. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Dean grabbed Sam’s face, making him laugh.

“Alright! Alr- mmpf!”

Dean stuck the thermometer under Sam’s tongue and shut his mouth for him, one hand under Sam’s jaw and chin, one over his lips. He gave Sam his own victory look. Sam glared at him. While they waited for the beep, Dean considered just how strange this would look if Castiel were to appear.


Dean took his hands off Sam and let him spit the thermometer into his hand. Sam made sure there was a lot of drool. Dean made a face and wiped his hand on his jeans as they both looked down at it.


Sam gaped.

Dean grinned. “Tough luck, Sammy.”

“Shut up.”

“I win. That means you have to catch up some much needed sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam finally conceded, pulling the covers over himself.

“Thank you.” Dean said, relieved. He tucked Sam in, and he didn’t swat him away this time. “Need anything? Tea? Beer?”

“I’m fine, Doctor.”

“Keep calling me that and you will get something inserted rectally. And it won’t be a thermometer.”

Sam smiled, then coughed. All of a sudden, he couldn’t stop coughing.

Dean rubbed his back until his cough subsided and he collapsed back on the couch.

“Sleep.” Dean said.

Sam nodded weakly.

Dean decided to press his luck and bring Sam more medicine. He took it without a word, only gagging a little.

“Well done, champ.” Dean patted the blanket, receiving a little huff from Sam.

While Sam got some sleep, Dean took Sam’s laptop and relaxed in a chair opposite him. He’d earned himself a break. He brought up Game of Thrones and kicked back with the laptop on his chest.

The show didn’t bother Sam. In fact, he was so accustomed to sleeping with Dean playing music or watching TV nearby that it actually helped him relax. Except, Sam couldn’t fall asleep. He wasn’t used to not doing anything all day, and he was feeling restless. He listened to the show for a few minutes before realizing Dean was a whole season behind him.

“It’s your decision, your grace.” Jon’s voice came from the speakers. “But if we’re going to be allies in this war...”

“She’s lying.” Sam muttered.

Dean glanced over at the giant mound of blanket, but decided to ignore it. He turned the volume down a bit.

“I’ve not come to conquer the North.” Dany said. “I’m coming to save the North.”

“Told you.”

Dean glared at Sam. “Hey. Go to sleep.”

Sam sighed and rolled over.

“We’ll sail together.” Dany’s voice was back.

“Yeah, right into the White Walker horde...” Sam murmured.

“Alright.” Dean paused the show. “That’s it.”

Sam looked out from his blanket in surprise. Dean was putting the laptop down on the side table and walking over to Sam. Sam sat up, abandoning all pretense of sleeping.

“What are you doing?”

“If you won’t rest, then I’m gonna make you rest.” He said simply.

“Wh… what?”

Dean threw the covers off of Sam.


Dean grabbed a fistful of Sam’s pajama pants and yanked them down his thighs.

“Dean!” Sam gaped at him.

Before Sam could prepare himself, Dean knelt down and slid his lips around Sam’s cock.

The noise Sam made was almost comical. It was somewhere between an indignant gasp and a shocked moan. Sam’s hand flew to Dean’s head so fast he nearly slapped him. Dean smirked. Except, Sam was moving around too much for Dean’s liking, so he flattened his tongue and sucked him all the way into his throat.

The sensation shivered outwards from Sam’s cock, flooding him with ecstasy so quickly that he flopped his head back on the couch arm and moaned.

That was better.

Dean sucked Sam senseless on the couch. He was getting hard so quickly that Dean was actually impressed. Surely such drastic blood redirection wasn’t good for a cold, but Dean was thinking more in the long term. Sam needed sleep, and Dean was going to give it to him. Even if it took a little persuading. He lapped and sucked Sam’s growing cock, feeling it expand heavily on his tongue. It was actually pretty hot. Soon Sam was thrusting weakly off the couch, his hands grasping uselessly at Dean’s short hair. Dean put a hand on Sam’s stomach, keeping his ass on the couch and rendering him motionless once again. Dean sucked greedily, getting off on just how much precum he was drawing out of him. It filled his mouth and dripped down his throat.

Sam’s hoarse moans were growing. Finally, he voice cracked and he went silent, just breathing rapidly. Okay… that was really, really hot. Dean gave Sam a long, draining suck, drawing the deepest moan from him yet, then released him from his mouth.

Sam gasped like he’d come out of water. “Dean!” He panted, looking half drunk. “Ohmygod.” He buried his face in his arms, mouth agape.

Dean sat up and smirked, his lips swollen and wet. “Wait here.”

“No.” Sam breathed. “I’m gonna go run a 4K.” He said sarcastically to nobody. “Fuck...”

When Dean returned, he didn’t have tea or cough syrup or more blankets; he had lube.

“Oh fuck yes.” Sam panted gratefully. Even puffy eyed and congested, Sam was the sexiest man Dean had ever seen. His chest was flushed and heaving, his hair looked like he’d been running his fingers through it, and his cock was jutting out and leaking down his tanned, muscular thigh.

Dean’s smile widened roguishly. He nestled himself between Sam’s long legs, and within minutes he he was three fingers deep, making him moan Copious amounts of lube leaked down Dean’s wrist as he worked him open quickly. He pressed lips together over the head of Sam’s wet cock, unable to resist the taste. Sam groaned hungrily. Dean removed his fingers and put a slippery hand under Sam’s knee, then pulled him off the arm of the couch to lay him flat. Sam was heavier than Dean, sure, but when Dean got him this turned on, he was like a rag doll. Dean reared up, planted a foot on the floor, and glided into Sam’s ass.

Dean echoed Sam’s groan as that familiar wetness sucked him in. Dean hissed through his teeth. Sam had been bottoming a lot for him lately, otherwise this impromptu plan wouldn’t have worked, but still, he was so perfectly tight. Dean watched in hazy satisfaction as Sam dribbled a fresh wave of precum down his cock, as if Dean was pushing it right out of him. Finally, he was sheathed to the hilt in Sam’s ass. He hoisted Sam’s legs up, not skipping a beat, and began thrusting sternly.

Sam moaned, arching on Dean’s lap.

Hard and fast was a sure fire way to make Sammy sleep. It was Dean’s secret weapon. Whenever he needed a break from Sam for a while, or Sam couldn’t sleep, he’d just bend him over and fuck him. Besides, if he couldn’t walk for a while maybe he’d actually stay on the damned couch.

Sam seemed to realize Dean’s plan and he groaned in response, clutching the couch arm above his head. “Oh, f...fuck, yeah...”

Dean smirked.

His expression was severe and predatory as he fucked, almost businesslike. Sam couldn’t look at him without getting a shock of submissive arousal.

Dean worked his hips like an animal, making sure to press Sammy’s sweet spot with every stroke. He had to really work his abs to do it, but the sounds he got of him were worth it. Dean knew he was doing it right when Sam’s voice hit that desperate, pleading tone normally reserved for life or death situations.

Dean loved seeing Sam like this. He was a wreck, moaning in pleasure with every thrust. Dean knew everything about his brother’s body. He knew all of his weakness. He knew how to fuck him just right, so that he couldn’t even speak. He was gorgeous; all muscle and taut, narrow lines, writhing and breathing on Dean’s cock. Dean’s favorite part of him was the untanned space between his hips and upper thighs; that raw expansive of untouched skin that rose and fell with every thrust. Dean pressed his palm down, feeling that heated skin that belonged only to him.

Sam moaned at the contact. Dean knew he loved a lot of stimulation, so he smoothed his hand up Sam’s pajama shirt, fondling him. He felt up Sam’s trembling thighs, his bouncing hips and taut stomach. It made Sam’s cock weep. Dean gathered his mess in the his hand and used it to stroke Sam’s cock.

Sam bucked powerfully, forcing Dean to hold back a groan. Sam could be a power-bottom without even trying. He rolled his body in rhythm with Dean’s thrusts and Dean gnashed his teeth, screwing up his concentration. Sam’s hips were his favorite sin.

Dean doubled over and fucked the breath right out of Sam, stroking him mercilessly. Within seconds, Sam had lost his voice completely. Dean knew he was close with how tightly Sam’s eyes were shut and how round his lips were, but Dean didn’t ease up. He was going to make sure Sam slept for at least three hours.

Sam began mouthing Dean’s name and trying to open his eyes, so Dean pushed his shirt up and fucked him even harder.

“Come on, Sammy! Come on.” Dean goaded him hotly.

Sam seized up around Dean and came like a fountain in his hand, finding his voice and groaning in ecstasy.

“...Dean! Dean!” Sam breathed.

“I know. Just a little more.” Dean grunted encouragingly. He felt himself beginning to come, but he didn’t stop. Finally, he saw Sam’s body shudder and melt. He pulled out fast and came on Sam’s chest just in time, stroking himself to the finish. He tilted his head back and groaned, air humping against Sam’s legs.

Sam could feel Dean’s heat drizzle over his bare chest. He could feel Dean’s thighs shaking against him. Finally, it stopped and Dean leaned over him, panting. Sam couldn’t move. He gave him an approving smile, his eyes fluttering closed, and Dean was finally satisfied.

Dean got off of him gently and went to fetch him a towel. By the time he got back, Sam was passed out on the couch. Dean smirked in satisfaction. He leaned over Sam, careful not to disturb him, and cleaned him up with a warm, damp towel. He pulled his shirt back down, but there was no way he was fishing that comforter out from under him. Dean went to the laundry room and brought Sam a fresh one from the dryer. He wrapped him up in it, causing Sam to stir.

“Sleep.” Dean cooed. He brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead.

Sam gave him the smallest of smiles, then fell back asleep. Dean watched his chest rise and fall under the blanket.

“’Atta boy.” He patted him gently.

Dean cleaned himself up, got dressed, then grabbed a beer and sat back down to watch Game of Thrones in peace.


Sam woke up three hours later, bleary eyed and hungry. Dean was snoring slightly with the laptop on his stomach, so Sam closed it and set it aside. He threw the extra blanket over Dean and went to make some food. He felt strangely better. Maybe he really did just need some sleep.

By the next day, Sam was back to normal. He conceded that maybe, just maybe, Dean had something to do with it. Dean, on the other hand, was insisting that Sam refer to his dick as Dr. Winchester from now on. Sam did not do this.

Dean’s happy mood fizzled out quickly. They went to Oklahoma to check on Jody, but they just missed the big fight scene. The case turned out to be legitimate after all. Sam would be insufferable on the ride home. Delaying the inevitable, they helped Jody dispose of the bodies. Dean felt a little dizzy, but he ignored it. At dinner, he didn’t finish his steak, and complained about the restaurant being too cold. Jody told him he’s either getting sick or going through menopause. Dean played it off, until Sam and Dean were alone in their motel room.

Dean collapsed on their bed, groaning miserably.

It wasn’t menopause.

“Damnit...” Dean sighed.

Sam watched him, biting back a smirk. “Would you like me to… whip our Dr. Winchester?” He ask in a mock professional tone.

“Shut up.” Dean glowered at him. “And get me a popsicle.”

Sam smiled and sat down beside Dean, rubbing his shoulders. “How about a massage?” He offered.

“Oh fuck yes.”

Sam tended to his older brother without hesitation. He even skipped the backtalk. Once Dean passed out, Sam went to the store for popsicles, cold medicine, and beer. At least now Sam could repay the favor.

Chapter Text

Two Veils To Hide My Face


John Winchester was so proud that his first born son was an Alpha. Even as a child, Dean was so headstrong and fearless, just like his old man. He even presented early, a sign that Dean was a fast maturing, extraordinary Alpha, just like their mother. But there was a problem with this. Dean wasn’t an Alpha.

Dean was an Omega.

The pressure from John caused a lot of stress for Dean growing up, and the overcompensation was admittedly what drove Dean into early presentation. John was out on a hunt when it happened, so once Dean was back in his right mind, he grabbed his dad’s old books on witchcraft and managed to fake his status as an Alpha via a spell. For years, Sam was the only one who knew, having been there when Dean’s first heat came.

Sam was a different story. From a young age Sam was resigned to being a Beta, based on his father’s frequent comments and backhanded insinuations. When Dean presented as an Omega instead of an Alpha as expected, the brothers made a deal. Once Sam hit puberty and didn’t present, he would help Dean keep up the charade. Except, Sam wasn’t a Beta.

Sam was an Alpha.

Sam’s first rut was catastrophic. Their father had left Dean to take care of Sammy for the week when it happened. Dean was showing signs of his upcoming heat and it triggered Sam’s first rut. Dean knew from the moment it started that Sam had taken after their mother.

Sam was a heaving, gasping, sobbing mess as the pain of Alpha puberty devastated him on the bathroom floor. Dean tried everything he could think of, but he just couldn’t handle it. There was nothing he could do for Sam and, worse, his own repressed Omega instincts were eating away at his rational mind. Dean tried looking up different spells in their dad’s old book, as he had done for himself, but found nothing that could help Sam.

A few hours of his little brother’s begging and pleading, and his failure to help him, finally broke Dean. He succumbed to his own instincts at last, and let Sam fuck him on the motel carpet.

Sam outright refused at first, but Dean knew it was out of fear: he didn’t want to hurt Dean, or get caught and unravel Dean’s charade. But this was the only way. Dean tore off Sam’s underwear, forced his wrists apart, and sank down on him, already dripping slick down his own thigh.

The shock and pleasure of it struck them both dumb for a moment before everything clicked. It was like an instant drug high. Dean was suddenly fucking himself on Sam’s cock, and Sam was groaning in satisfaction. The act fulfilled a need both internal and external to them both, and before either one of them realized what was happening Sam was pinning Dean to the floor. He ravaged Dean for hours, panting hungrily while Dean shouted in unbridled relief. Sam was soaked in feverish sweat and his older brother’s slick while his knot grew. Soon, he was filling Dean with load after load of his fertile cum.


Afterward, Sam slept like he was dead. He’d passed out still knotted inside Dean, who jerked off a few more times, getting pleasure from being claimed by Sammy even while he slept. Dean just prayed their dad wouldn’t chose that moment to come home.

Sam’s knot deflated at some point during the night and Dean wiggled out from under him at last. He deposited Sam in his bed and continued his research, this time on how to magic yourself not pregnant before your father found out you let your Alpha younger brother breed you. He couldn’t let anyone, especially their dad, find out about what happened, yet the act filled Dean with a pleasure so potent it was almost shameful.

There were a few times throughout the night that Dean realized Sam was hard again and groaning in his sleep. Those moments Dean put his books aside and slid his lips all the way down over Sam’s pulsing cock. Sam whimpered and whined while Dean let Sam knot his throat, unwaking. The sounds Sam made as he came were almost sweet. Dean did this two more times before Sam’s rut finally seemed to subside for the night.

By morning, Dean was exhausted, in pain, and noticeably bruised, but at least he wasn’t pregnant.


It took years for Sam to forgive himself for that night. Dean never blamed him, but he understood Sam’s pain and shame and tried to avoid the topic whenever he could. Things went back to normal. John was surprised, in fact he was thrilled, to have his little Sammy become an Alpha, not to mention proud that he’d sired not one, but two of them.


Years passed, and it seemed the close quarters and even closer bond synced Sam and Dean’s cycles. Every couple months they spent a week frantically avoiding each other, even while they hunted together with their dad. John blamed the boys’ constant bickering on having two young Alphas cooped up on the road together, but Sam and Dean knew the truth.

It was hard enough on the day-to-day basis, but when they went into heat and rut, Dean’s scent drew Sam in unlike anything he’d ever smelled, and Dean could smell that first night on Sam’s breath whenever he spoke. Sam would catch glimpses of Dean showering or changing and Dean would see Sam’s eyes change. Meanwhile, Dean would pleasure himself while remembering how Sam pinned and fucked him all night long. How he bred him.

But after each heat and rut, things would go back to normal. Dean managed to get away from their dad every time, and the spellwork took care of the rest. Sam would help by finding ingredients and slipping them in with Dean’s things. He even scent marked him so Dean smelled more like an Alpha around their dad. Dean wasn’t sure it helped, but he appreciated the gesture too much to stop Sam. Dean found something comforting about Sam casually rubbing on him whenever they had a moment alone.

Dean kept a box under his bed with one of his shirts that Sam had scented. He hid it even from Sam. When his heat was particularly bad, he’d bury his face in the shirt. Dean didn’t know that Sam had stolen a pair of Dean’s shorts he’d promised to clean after Dean ruined it with slick. The smell wouldn’t wash out, so Sam lied and said he’d burned it.


After a while, the boys suspected that John knew his sons weren’t both Alphas, but he never brought it up. He played along with Dean, who refused to talk about it even with Sam, and it was the first time Sam remembered feeling lucky to have John as their dad. Dean wouldn’t talk about it until after their dad died.


Things got better after Sam went away to school. Granted, it began with a fight that would haunt the three of them for the rest of their lives, but Dean’s heats calmed down for while. He dated a few Betas and even had a fling with an Alpha girl that John never found out about. Sam even found a nice Omega girl in college.

Then their father went missing.

After four years apart, the brothers were finally back together, with impossibly more baggage than ever before.

It turned out that their cycles never fell out of sync while they were apart, even though they seemingly shared nothing in common anymore. Dean was still masking his Omega scent, but he’d stopped outwardly presenting as an Alpha to cover his Omega nature. It seemed he had enough freedom now to just disappear from their dad when his pre-heat symptoms started. Sam was managing his rut with relative ease as well, although he admitted he still struggled with control and rarely let himself indulge. But even with the improvements the brothers had made while they were separated, the next cycle they shared together after all those years proved to be just as challenging as their first.


They had just finished hunting a vengeful spirit and were too tired to do anything but sit on the couch in their motel room at three am and watch whatever was on TV. They’d been so unusually busy that they’d abandoned their normal routines. Dean knew there was something he was forgetting, but he hadn’t had a second to himself to figure out what it was, until Sam rested his head against Dean’s.

Sam had got even taller in those four years and at first Dean thought Sam was just resting his chin on Dean’s head which was odd enough. Sam moved away after a moment, so Dean just ignored it. Then Sam put his chin back on Dean and rubbed his jaw over his short, soft hair. Dean glanced over at him and realized at once what was going on.

Sam was scenting him, just like when they were kids. Except now Sam wasn’t doing it because Dean needed to hide his own scent. Sam was flat out marking him.

Dean could see Sam’s collarbone rising and falling, just barely exposed beneath his shirt and coat. Sam wasn’t a kid anymore. He was toned and tanned, and had the body of a god - Dean had noticed it during their first hunt. Now as he sat on the couch with Sam marking him, Dean couldn’t bring himself to stop him. He liked the feeling of his brother rubbing himself on his head and shoulders, without so much as an attempt at explanation. It seemed Dean was starting his heat and Sam had given into the urge without thinking, spurred on the smell, unable to help himself. It was almost like he was grooming Dean. Dean’s breath quickened. He spotted the bulge in Sam’s pants, and Dean made his decision in an instant. He grabbed Sam’s hands and pinned him to the couch.

Sam seemed to snap out of it, but instead of clarity filling his expression, it was lust. He stared heatedly as Dean climbed onto his lap. Dean had never looked more like an Alpha, and yet he bowed his head onto Sam’s shoulder and rubbed himself against his jaw, presenting the back of his neck to him. He was succumbing to a sudden, indisputable desire to be dominated by the Alpha that claimed him all those years ago. At that, Sam just about lost his mind. The feral groan he emitted sent chills of shameless, submissive pleasure down Dean’s spine.

Sam broke out of Dean’s grip, grabbed his older brother, and pinned him to the floor just like he’d done all those years ago. Dean groaned. Sam was always the calm, rational one, which was probably why it was so damn sexy when he went into rut. He lost most of his control, going purely on instinct - it was Dean’s guiltiest pleasure.

For a minute, Sam just rubbed himself on Dean, spreading his scent all over his hair and clothes, before he started humping him through the layers and groaning into the back of Dean’s neck. Dean couldn’t take it. He was already painfully erect and there was slick dripping down his leg. In four years, no one had made Dean as wet as Sam had in that short time.

A powerful need suddenly rose in Dean and he started to fight back. He wanted Sam to consent to this, not just be driven by his Alpha brain. He needed Sam’s consent. Dean remembered what it was like when they were kids. When Sam went into his ruts, he locked himself away in his room because he was so afraid of hurting someone. Dean couldn’t let Sam feel like that again.

Dean’s struggling confused Sam giving Dean the upper hand. He wrestled Sam to the floor, slapping his face just enough to ground him. Sam sputtered and gasped, staring at Dean incredulously.


“Do you really want this?”

Sam groaned. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want this, Sammy. Tell me you want my ass. Come on!”

Sam growled at him, writhing on the floor. “I want your ass… I want you filled with my seed...” It looked like his every muscle was working to not overtake Dean’s grip. “I want your slick all over me, Dean. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Their conversation was brief, but it was enough consent for Dean. Dean broke. His grip on Sam loosened and Sam took that as his cue.

They were naked on the floor in seconds. Sam was surprisingly tender with Dean, like he’d gained some modicum of control over his Alpha nature in the last few years, or he at least truly meant what he said: he wanted Dean, and he always had.

Still, Sam’s cock was even bigger than Dean remembered. If he hadn’t been starting his heat, he wasn’t sure if his body would have been able to take all of it. Dean was wet and perfectly pliable for Sam’s cock, and every inch of pain was drowned out by miles of overwhelming pleasure.

Sam ravaged Dean like it was his first rut all over again. Only this time, Sam wasn’t inexperienced. His blind, greedy thrusts now had an edge of intent to them. He stroked up and down Dean’s seeping walls, stirring each and every little niche that had Dean unraveling into a horny, writhing mess on the floor. Dean had never moaned so hard in his life. At one point, he whimpered like Sam had in his sleep when Dean first sucked him. Dean would have been mortified if anyone but Sam heard it. Dean slammed his fist on the floor, bucking back into Sam and making him curse.

Sam urged him on, groping and kissing him all over, until Dean finally felt Sam’s growing knot press between his cheeks. They groaned in unison as it pressed against Dean’s opening.


They fucked for hours. Dean came first when Sam found his prostate and unleashed his lust on it. Dean had never cum so hard or so fast, even by his own doing. Dean’s heat kept him wet and ready after every assault, aching for everything Sam could give him. After his second orgasm, he was so stretched that, after the perfect thrust, Sam’s growing knot slipped right into him with a wet pop. They both groaned, and Sam fucked his knot into Dean’s quivering hole, trembling.

Sam was beside himself. That extra inch of his cock seemed to have the combined sensitivity of his head and shaft. It finally swelled to its full extent inside of Dean and Sam came, hard, hips pressed against Dean’s stretched hole. Dean dropped his forehead and palms onto the carpet and just moaned. Sam lost track of how many times he pulsed inside of Dean, planting his knot deep and letting it pin Dean’s ass to the floor every time. His thighs and knees were covered in Dean’s slick and his own sweat.

Dean could tell Sam was getting tired. He wanted him to pass out so that Dean could experience that rush again – the rush he now understood had been submissive pleasure. Dean never submitted to anyone. Call it years of repression or just Dean’s stubborn nature, but he was a shitty Omega.... Except with Sam. Sam was the only one he’d let treat him like an Omega and it felt so good.

Sam slowed in exhaustion and leaned down over Dean’s back, spooning him while he fucked him. He was barely pulling out at all, just pushing against Dean’s abused ass while his knot pulsed in Dean’s body. Dean felt Sam come once more, then finally still.

There was nothing but the sound of panting and gasping for a few moments. Then Dean finally spoke.

“Sleep, Sammy.”

Sam was scenting him again, lazily rubbing his jaw over Dean head and sweaty shoulders. Sam made to pull out, feeling Dean’s body resist the slowly receding knot like a plug, but Dean stopped him.

“It’s okay… just sleep,” Dean said shakily.

Sam understood. He kissed Dean’s temple and began to doze off, still inside of Dean from behind on their soaked motel carpet. Dean swallowed. He was spent. For a while he dozed too, waking with each of Sam’s little snores and stirs. His every movement roused Dean so intimately that he couldn’t help but wake. Finally, something woke Dean that was a little more rousing. Sam’s knot was swelling back up and he was humping Dean in his sleep. Dean groaned, remembering just how dead to the world Sam had been while he slept that first time. There’d be no waking him.

Urged on by what was most likely a dream of some kind, Sam thrust slowly in Dean’s ass, leaking precum and wetting his insides again. Dean’s breathing went shallow. He was erect in seconds. Call it Omega heat or whatever, but Dean could feel his channel tingling and urging Sam on, blissed out in satisfaction at being used. Sam nuzzled Dean’s neck, scenting him more. Dean groaned. Sam was claiming him in his sleep. His hand flew to his cock and he began stroking himself between his belly and the floor. Sam’s knot was full again, and Dean could feel the weight of it pressing him into the floor. He yanked his arm out of the way, and just humped the floor while Sam sleep fucked him at a teasingly uncoordinated pace. The motions of Dean’s hips aided Sam’s cock in sliding back and forth, and Sam soon orgasmed with a pleasured whine, spilling his seed deep in Dean’s plugged hole. The effort woke him and Sam slowly realized what was going on. He felt Dean rolling his hips, pinned beneath him but awake.

“’s that why you wanted to sleep like this?” Sam murmured in Dean’s ear.

Dean grinned sheepishly.

Sam planted his lips down on the back of Dean’s exposed neck and sucked, making Dean groan and buck into the carpet. Dean knew Sam wouldn’t mate him, not yet at least, but the gesture sent chills down Dean’s back. Sam angled himself so that his cock slid against Dean’s prostate, pushing down on it. Dean’s breath hitched. Sam grazed his teeth against Dean’s skin as he left hickeys on his neck, sensing that Dean liked it. Sure enough, Dean clenched around Sam’s cock, driving it unrelentingly into his pleasure spot, and Dean came right there, moaning hotly.

Once Dean had stopped trembling and cursing from his orgasm, Sam helped pick him up by the shoulders. Dean let him change positions, so that Dean was on his knees with his chest and forehead on the couch seat. Dean gave a murmur of thanks. Sam was clearly still in fuck or fight mode, but Dean was impressed by just how much he was able to control it now. Still… Dean clenched around Sam’s knot and got a surprised moan out of him.

He heard Sam’s breathless smile behind him. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean grinned, looking sideways at him.

Sam dragged his hands up Dean’s thighs and hips, earning a shiver from Dean. Then he cupped his hands over Dean’s taut stomach and dragged his nails down to his groin.

Dean bucked and bit his lips, groaning softly.

“Dean… why didn’t you tell me how much you wanted this?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean grit his teeth and Sam did it again, almost tickling down his treasure trail. Dean could feel himself full of Sam’s cum, warming him just above Sam’s hands.

“Touche,” Sam said, cupping Dean’s cock and balls with his large hands.

Dean moaned, widening his stance and sinking back on Sam’s cock. He could feel himself dripping from his cock and his hole in unison.

“Dean...” Sam started.

Something about the way he said it made Dean look back at him. “Hey… Look, I am loving this,” he prefaced. “For the love of God, you can tease me all night. Fuck.” He breathed, shuddering slightly as Sam idly fingered his slit. “But… no chick flick moments, okay? I don’t blame you for anything, and if this is something you want to do then… I’m here whenever you need me,” Dean said tersely.

Sam’s smile warmed, rubbing spurts of precum out of Dean’s cock. “Deal.”

Dean shivered. “Oh, thank God.” He flopped his head down on the couch.

Sam grinned. “You’re going to eat your words, you know,” Sam said, rubbing his fingers up and down Dean’s cock and making his whole body arch and shake.

“I’ve eaten worse.” Dean flashed him a cocky grin and stifled a whimper.

Sam almost laughed. Instead, he began to jack Dean off. Dean groaned gratefully. Within seconds, Sam was fucking him hard again. He groped and fondled him, holding Dean’s cock and stomach as if he were trying to fill him to the brim. Sam couldn’t pull out very far with his knot, but that meant his hips kept rubbing Dean’s stretched entrance with every thrust, filling Dean with eratic pleasure. Dean was a mess on the couch, arched up against Sam with his cock dribbling all over Sam’s long, stroking fingers, fisting the couch pillows on either side of his head.

They only lasted a few rounds that time. Dean came twice in Sam’s hands while he milked him before Sam’s thrusts became desperate and fast again. Sam was an animal, fucking and groaning like Dean wasn’t even there. Sam knotted him once more, then collapsed atop him, hands splayed on the couch beside Dean’s as he came. Dean gripped his wet fingers, just breathing with his brother.


Sam’s knot shrunk a little faster that time, and Sam finally seemed to have returned to his senses. When Sam slipped out of him, Dean could feel himself gaping, Sam’s cum flowing between his knees. Sam stroked Dean’s entrance soothingly, making Dean want to just sink into the couch and sleep. He was flaccid at last, and it had never felt so good. Sam seemed to have similar ideas as Dean, because he scooped an arm around Dean’s waist to pulled him onto the only clean part of the floor left. They passed out together, holding each other close until morning.


The next day was spent cleaning the motel room. Sam couldn’t believe he’d had a rut like that, but Dean was grinning with pride. After a greasy meal and several coffees each, they hit the road. On the way to their next case, they found it surprisingly easy to talk to one another. They laughed about dad, about their worst hunts, they even talked a bit about mom. Every conversation seemed to come back to what would surely happen if anyone took a black light to that motel room. Very little seemed to change between them, except that once every couple of months they’d take a few days off to take care of each other. That - and Dean was now on birth-control.

As they readjusted to living side by side again, they noticed little changes. Dean became a pretty good cook and didn’t use magic anymore, and Sam had somehow read the entire Stanford library. They both learned to handle their cycles differently when they were apart: Sam liked to research and prepare for each one, while Dean did absolutely nothing. In the end it was always the same: Sam was a hot mess while Dean somehow maintained a decent amount of self-control.


Overall, not much had changed, except now Sam and Dean weren’t ashamed of needing each other. Dean told Sam about the shirt he used to keep, and Sam replied with the story of Dean’s pants. Sam knew they’d be okay when, at last, Dean let it slip over the phone with their dad that his Omega cycle was starting soon and he couldn’t start another hunt right away. Sam heard the receiver go silent before a calm voice replied “Okay, son.”

Sam hid his smile from Dean when he got back to the table and they never talked about it again.

Chapter Text

Wet Dreams May Cum


Dean’s motel room was dark. The rain streaked window flashed behind closed blinds, followed by a distant rumble. Dean was sprawled out on the bed, half naked and twisted up in the comforter. It had been three days since he and Sam started a hunt, during which time neither of them slept. The first thing Sam did when they finished was get himself his own room. Dean snored when he was sleep deprived and he was too tired to argue. His head hit the pillow and he was asleep not three seconds later, snoring loudly. But after a while, the snoring stopped. His breathing deepened and he shifted dreamily under the sheets. A brief flash of dim light illuminated the lines of his bare neck and back, rising and falling slowly as he lay belly down, his face nestled in the crook of his arm. His eyes darted under his lids.

Trapped somewhere between waking and dreaming, Dean groaned softly into his arm. The rain was so relaxing, and Dean was so very comfortable, and yet, he began to move. He rubbed his hips into the mattress below him, sighing gently. He was having a very good dream.

Dean pushed his nose into the pillows and slowly, sensually, dry humped the bed through his pajamas pants. He moaned quietly, his expression open and pure with pleasure while he slept. His lips began to move, forming one word over and over again. He absentmindedly reached out and felt for an unused pillow. He grabbed it and dragged it down to his hips. When his body pushed into it, his expression rounded in relief. That was what he needed. He dry humped the pillow while he slept, until the word finally tumbled off his lips…



Blue orbs glowed at the foot of Dean’s bed and Dean awoke instantly.

“Whozeewhatsisthere?” He snorted. In less time than it took Gabriel to appear, Dean was sitting up with the pillow on his lap, pointing a gun at his midnight visitor.

“Woah, woah, easy tiger...”

Dean turned the light on. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was a mess.

Gabriel pointed, mischievous face was smirking at him. “Hey there, cowboy.” He rose a brow at the pillow.

“God damnit.” Dean rubbed his face with one hand and put the gun down. “Are you crazy? I could have shot you!”

Gabriel’s smirk widened. “Yeah you could’ve.”

Dean glared at him, but a yawn betrayed him. “A...aren’t you supposed to be dead? Again?”

“Yeah… that story is so not as interesting as whatever it was you were dreaming about.” He teased.

Dean glared harder than ever. “Get out.”

“Aw, c’mon, Dean-o.”

“Why are you even here? Where you just watching me while I slept?”

“You prayed for me.”

“No, I…!” Dean’s face fell. He looked simultaneously mortified and furious.

Gabriel’s eyes twinkled. “You…” He stalked towards the side of the bed. “...prayed for me.”

“I have a gun.” Dean stated.

Gabriel sighed. He looked a kid who was just denied dessert. “Fine! I’ll just take these talented hands elsewhere...” He gave Dean a playful look.

“Okay, but wait… how are you…?”


“...alive.” Dean blinked.

Gabriel was gone.

Dean threw the pillow in frustration and got up, grumbling about dead archangels cockblocking his own dick. He wasn’t sleeping now. He took the coldest, angriest shower, got dressed, then went and woke Sam up.

“Come on, sleeping beauty! Let’s go! You can sleep in the car.” He pounded on the door. At least Sam’s anger would distract Dean from his own.

Sure enough, Sam was pissed at him the whole car ride home, even though he slept through most of it. When Sam woke a few miles from the bunker, Dean decided it would be best to tell him that Gabriel was alive, if only to avoid him finding out later and getting even angrier.

“He what?”

“He just… showed up. So I figured we should get out of there.”

“Yeah, but… Dean. He’s supposed to be dead!”

“I know that, Sam.”

“So then, what? He came by just to say hi? What did he want?”

Dean shrugged.

Sam clearly didn’t believe him, but they were at the bunker before he could argue it further.


Dean didn’t think about the incident, or masturbate, for nearly a week. But whenever he had a moment to himself, he found his mind drifting back to that dream. It had been a very good one. Gabriel was behind him and Dean was sprawled out on the bed, his hips raised and captured by Gabriel’s warm hands. Gabriel must have been using his grace or something, because it felt like he was making love to his very soul. Dean’s every molecule was exploding with white hot pleasure. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. It melted his brain and made his whole body tremble in ecstasy. The point of entry was the best. Gabriel’s cock curved into him, pulling him under waves and waves of satisfaction. Dean recalled with a rush of embarrassment how he’d lifted his own ass in need and curled his fists into the sheets, groaning Gabriel’s name...

Sam woke him from his daydream, and he nearly fell out of his seat at the Men of Letters table.

“You need sleep.” Sam said.

“Shaddup and make me some coffee, will you?”

It was like being haunted by Freddy Kruger's porn star twin.

Sam needed the library to study, so Dean offered to help. He ignored Sam’s look of skepticism and pulled some books across the table to him. Anything to take his mind off that dream. But hours later, neither Sam nor Dean could figure out a sigil they’d seen on their hunt.

“Maybe it’s Aramaic.” Sam sighed.

Dean had brought the coffee pot right to the table and was pouring himself another cup.

“Dude. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” Sam stared at him in disbelief, then looked back at a book on angels. “The closest thing I’ve found is in this book. It says this language was used by gods. We could try calling Cas.”

“He hasn’t answered his phone in days, but if you want to try then be my guest.”

Sam huffed. “Why don’t you pray for Gabriel then?”

Dean went pale. “W...why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he visited you out of nowhere and you’re still not telling me why?” He suggested coolly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He set his cup down and cleared his throat. “Gabriel, oh Gabriel, wherefore art thou, you feathered dick?”

Sam laughed.

“We need your divine wisdom. Grace us with your unending innuendos.” Dean finished dramatically.

They both looked around despite themselves, but nothing happened.

“See?” Dean swiped the pot off the table and went to make more coffee. “Your turn.”

Sam sighed and pulled out his phone.


Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he was disappointed nonetheless. It made him feel dirty. And not in the good way. Or was it? He finally gave up trying to help Sam and went to his room to take a nap.

“Yeah, just drink two pots of coffee and then go sleep.” Sam commented.

Dean proceeded to lay wide awake in his dark room for ten minutes, silently cursing Sam. At least he’d learned one thing from failing to summoning Gabriel – he wasn’t magically attached to Dean as he feared. After all, the mere thought of him hadn’t caused the earth to crack and suck Dean down into Gabriel’s zebra printed, lava lamp filled sex dungeon. Whether that was good or bad, Dean didn’t know. What he did know was, it was probably safe to masturbate. Thank god. No, that made him feel dirty, too.

Dean undid his pants and lay down on his bed. He had a stash of magazines, but he didn’t need them. He’d been pent up since that dream. Like hitting play on a movie, he was brought back to it: Gabriel’s hands on his hips, his breath on the back of his neck, the tantalizing caress of his feathers as he thrust endlessly into Dean’s aching, electrified body... Dean wrapped a calloused hand around his cock and stroked.

Soon his head was resting against the headboard and his lips were parted in silent pleasure as he fondled all his favorite spots. He squeezed around his base and twisted up, rubbing his thumb under his head. He worked up a good amount of precum and lubed himself up with it. His breathing became audible as he pumped himself closer and closer to orgasm. He could almost feel that dream – Gabriel’s cock was spreading him wide, filling him deep, stroking him from the inside so divinely. Gabriel’s hands smoothed around Dean’s hips and began stroking his cock for him. Dean moaned. Gabriel’s fingertips were too perfect. They made Dean writhe and buck back onto Gabriel’s cock even as it pinned him to the bed. Within seconds Dean was close to coming. He thrust his hips into his hand, gritting his teeth.

“Gabe… Gabriel.” He groaned.


Dean swore loudly.

Gabriel snapped the lights on and caught Dean aiming a shotgun at him with his pants around his thighs. He was flushed, breathless, and very erect.

“Oh... naughty boy.” Gabriel’s eyes twinkled.

“I prayed for you twenty minutes ago!” Dean shouted.

“Well obviously you didn’t pray right.” Gabriel bit back a smile.

Dean glared at him. He dropped a hand to the blankets and tried to cover himself with them, but the bed was made tight.

Gabriel watched happily as Dean struggled to pull his pants up over his erection with one hand.

“Dean… I’m an Archangel. I don’t care what you look like out here.” He spun his finger around at him. “Although, I must say… impressive.” He winked at him.

Dean frowned and gave up. “You… are a dick!”

“Interesting choice of words...”

“A seriously… fucked up… asshole...”

“Oh my...”

“Shut up!”

Gabriel bit back a little laugh, and it drove Dean crazy. He glared at him dangerously, his mind racing.

“Comebacks aren’t really your forte are they? Speaking of comebacks...”

“Alright you know what? Get in here or shut up.”

Gabriel’s expression fell. “What?” His brow twitched. “Seriously?”

Dean stared in resignation. “Yeah, seriously. You in or out?”

Gabriel’s face lit up deviously. “Oh I’m in. I’m so in.”

Dean swallowed.

Gabriel stalked over to Dean’s side and, before Dean could overthink it, Gabriel undressed him with a snap of his fingers and pushed him back onto the bed. Dean hit the bed with a gasp. Gabriel grinned and lowered his lips to Dean’s chest. Dean lay his head back and shut his eyes stubbornly, taking steady breaths. Until he felt Gabriel’s hand wrap around his cock. Dean groaned.

“Oh, so responsive.” Gabriel purred.

Dean grunted irritably, but the sound was sucked out of him when Gabriel bit his nipple. Dean’s breath hitched. “Just hurry up.” He said gruffly. In reality, he could’ve laid there all night with Gabriel stroking him. His hands were perfect. Gabriel squeezed around his base and twisted up, rubbing his thumb under his head, making Dean curse and leak precum on his fingers. It was so good. Too good….

Gabriel watched Dean connect the dots in his head and smiled victoriously.

“You were watching me?”

“Bingo.” Gabriel smirked, then flicked his nipple with his tongue and rubbed Dean’s glans with his thumb.

Dean fell back, mouth agape. “...You pervert.”

“Oh yeah, talk dirty to me.” Gabriel snapped again, disrobing himself, then hoisted Dean into the middle of the bed.

Even though Dean knew he was an Archangel, his strength in that situation surprised Dean. He made an embarrassing little noise, but Gabriel gratefully ignored it. He kept toying with his nipples and stroking him, making Dean lose it his piece by piece.

“Fuck, Gabriel…”

Gabriel smiled. “Tell me about you dream.”

Dean swallowed. “You uh… we were in bed. And you were behind me. F...” Dean couldn’t say it. Partly because it was humiliating, but partly because Gabriel was pinching his nipple and making Dean squirm. They were way more sensitive than usual. “F...fucking me.”

“Uh-huh...” He flicked him with his tongue, getting pleasure out of seeing Dean squirm.


“You said that already.”

“I am going to kill you.”

“Oh baby...” Gabriel teased. He let Dean’s cock drop and rose a glistening a hand in the air. With a third snap of his fingers, Dean was on his belly on the bed with Gabriel between his legs.

Dean gasped. “Sh...shit don’t do that!”

“Oh you love it, Dean-o.” Gabriel goaded him. “Why don’t you show me that dream of yours? Might make this easier...”

Dean wore. He was loving this, even if it was seriously fucked up. Dean felt a brief but powerful rush of sympathy for Sam regarding Ruby. This was… hot. He looked over his shoulder at him. “You can do that?”

“Duh.” Gabriel gave him a look.

Dean nodded slowly. “Okay… sure. Go for it.” Dean didn’t really know what he was agreeing to, but he realized something when Gabriel put a finger to his forehead. “Wait!”


“Don’t possess me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He winked.

Dean felt himself relax a little. Gabriel was a pervert, but at least he was on their side. Right? Dean held his breath as Gabriel touched his forehead.

Immediately, Dean was back in his dream. He was belly down on that motel bed with the rain and thunder in the background, and he couldn’t move. He looked around wildly and saw Gabriel behind him. No, he was inside of him. Dean groaned and dropped his head on the mattress.

“Gabe… Gabriel!” He called out to him.

“Right here, Dean.” Gabriel breathed in his ear. Everything was the same, even Gabriel’s gigantic wings that were taking up half the room. Except Gabriel didn’t speak in his dream. This was the real Gabriel. “You just tell me if you want to stop. Got it?” He said.

Dean nodded weakly. “Holy… fuck.”

Gabriel smirked. “Bingo.”

Gabriel thrust deep, so deep that it could only happen in a dream, and Dean melted in ecstasy, moaning.

“Oh…” Gabriel purred. “So good, Dean. Atta boy.” He smiled, beginning to fuck him nice and slow. “I’m going to fuck you in here, and then I’m going to fuck you out there? Got it?”

Dean couldn’t move his head, so he gave him a silent thumbs up. Gabriel chuckled, rocking Dean’s body gently. Dean could vaguely feel himself back in the bunker with the real Gabriel. His body there was melting with pleasure, too. He could feel Gabriel’s fingers inside him, yet he was here with dream Gabriel’s cock inside him.

“Fuck, Gabe. This is… fucked up.”

“Oh, I know.” Gabriel smirked. “But you love it.”

Dean smiled breathlessly.

Gabriel wiped the smile off his face with a long, deep thrust. Dean had barely caught his breath before Gabriel was pulling back and doing it again. Dean groaned in earnest. The sound was music to Gabriel’s ears. He picked up the pace, making Dean writhe.

Dean grabbed the sheets to ground himself as Gabriel fucked his brains into outer space. His cock filled him unbelievably well, stirring all the pleasure spots Dean never knew he had. He was so thick and wet, and he glided right into Dean like he was made for this. Dean’s whole body felt electrified. Gabriel put his hands on Dean’s hips and Dean lifted his butt up for him.

“So good, Dean. I’m giving you a reward for that.” Gabriel purred.

Dean felt fingers reaching in and stroking a spot in him that made Dean feel like he was coming. Dean gasped and clenched down, but those muscles weren’t working for some reason. He couldn’t move them awake or asleep. Gabriel was milking his prostate in the bunker and fucking him here, all at the same time, and it made Dean short circuit, gasping and shaking uncontrollably.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gabriel grinned, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “You’re soaking the bed.” He told him. He sounded absolutely thrilled. “Oh, you’re definitely my favorite. I always knew you would be. So responsive, so pent up, I’m going to unwind you all night long.” He promised.

Dean groaned shamelessly. He could feel Gabriel’s fingers move and focus elsewhere back at the bunker, giving Dean a brief reprieve from the paralyzing pleasure. He sputtered and gasped. “Fuck Gabriel! Oh my god.”

Gabriel smirked.

Dean wasn’t even mad. “You gotta… you gotta do that again.”

“You got it, kiddo.” He found Dean’s sweet spot with his cock and stroked it hard. It wasn’t as intense, but it was enough to get Dean trembling again.

“Oh...yeah… right there.” Dean gritted his teeth.

Gabriel worked his hips expertly, giving Dean all the stroking, rubbing stimulation while still fucking him deep. It felt like he was making love to his very soul. Dean realized he probably was, and wanted to laugh. But he couldn’t. It felt like his nerves were exploding with white hot pleasure, making his whole body throb in ecstasy. Gabriel’s cock curved into him, soaking him in wave after wave of familiar yet entirely new satisfaction. It felt like it went on for hours.

“You ever done this before, Dean-o?”

Dean shook his head hastily. “ way.”

“Really?” Gabriel asked, enjoying his honestly. “A stud like you? Oh, I feel so lucky...” He gave Dean a long thrust, earning a shuddering moan from him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it for you. I’ll ruin you for every other man, angel and demon.”

“Lucky me...” He smiled breathlessly.

Dean was grateful Gabriel wasn’t treating him like a virgin. As a pleasurable and downright kinky as it was being dominated like this, he still had his pride. Gabriel seemed to sense this, and he picked up the pace, taking Dean’s mind off it. Dean cursed and pressed his nose into the pillow.

Gabriel’s cock was spreading him so wide, filling him so deep; it didn’t seem possible to feel this good. Even the way Gabriel’s skin brushed against Dean’s stretched hole at the end of each stroke felt incredible. Then Gabriel’s hands were smoothing around Dean’s hips stroking his cock. Dean cried out in pleasure, bucking back onto Gabriel’s cock even as it pinned him to the bed. It was like it had all happened before, and yet was happening for the first time – like he was stuck in a time loop. Dean couldn’t count how many times Gabriel touched him just right, only to have it happen all over again. He felt completely distant from his body, and yet bound by it, experiencing each moment of pleasure to infinity.

After what felt like hours, Gabriel’s voice reeled him back. “Are you ready, babe?”

Dean nodded dumbly. He had no idea what Gabriel was talking about, but whatever it was, he was ready for it.

All at once, both Gabriels pushed in, and Dean felt his body expand with devastating pleasure.


Gabriel must have been able to read his mind. He slowed, but he didn’t stop. Dean was grateful. Every little spark of pain complimented his pleasure so divinely. He couldn’t get enough.

“Keep...keep going!” He grunted, arching up uncontrollably and twisting his fists in the sheets.

Gabriel watched his back bow as he took everything Gabriel had, and it drove Gabriel wild. “Oh, Dean-o… you are absolutely... gorgeous.” He groaned. “That’s it. Take it. Take my cock. I want to fill you to the brim.”

Finally, Dean felt both versions of himself in perfect sync – two of Gabriel’s cocks filling him so heavily that Dean could barely move. Gabriel was panting against his back and Dean felt his wings drape over him, although he wasn’t sure in which bedroom. Gabriel kissed Dean’s neck in both realities, then he started to move.

Dean and Gabriel groaned in unison. It was unbelievable. Gabriel parted his tight, wet heat twice, filling Dean was impossible pleasure, all the while fondling his cock. It was like having four hands on him – stroking, petting, and rubbing him all over. Dean rolled his hips what little he could out of instinct, making Gabriel slide in even deeper.

Dream Gabriel pulled out a little and began focusing his thrusts on Dean’s prostate, while Gabriel in the bunker fucked him steadily. Dean groaned, burying his face in both beds. Soon he was gasping and moaning desperately.

“Gabe! Gabriel!”

When Gabriel replied, his voice was raspy and deep. “I’m going to bring you back now, Dean.”

Dean looked back at him and nodded. He was completely roughed up and tousled-haired. He looked drunk. It made Gabriel’s arousal soar. He pulled Dean into a kiss, their first kiss, and in the next second Gabriel’s wings faded and they were back in the bunker.

Dean’s bodies became one. The sensations, while less intense, suddenly felt more real. He felt his own sheets under his knees and chest. He smelled the familiar, stale smell of the underground bunker, mixed with his own cologne and the smell of their bodies intertwined. But most of all, he felt Gabriel’s cock heavy and hot moving inside him, and Gabriel’s hand stroking his leaking, throbbing cock.

“Good morning sunshine.” Gabriel rasped.

Dean groaned. He nearly came right there.

Gabriel fucked him a little more carefully out here, but it didn’t matter to Dean. It felt even better than anything that could happen in his head. Gabriel played him just right, and Dean felt an orgasm building up powerfully in his balls. He had no idea how long Gabriel was in him, but it must have been hours. That was the only way he ever orgasmed like this. It ate him up from the inside so slowly that it was almost painful. But it was the best kind of pain – a tingling, mind-numbing ecstasy.

“Gabe… keep going… just like that...” He groaned into his bed.

Gabriel squeezed his hand and twisted it over his cock, pounding into Dean’s prostate then gliding in deep. He rubbed his body against Dean’s entrance with each thrust, then slid part way out to do it again. And again.

Dean gaped soundlessly as his orgasm bubbled up just below the surface. He was shaking with the effort of keeping his butt up, and Gabriel seemed to have read his mind again.

“Come on, Dean. You’ve earned it.” Gabriel taunted with every thrust. “Let yourself go. Or I’ll just keep visiting you. I’ll make you come all night long. Every night...”

Dean whined, slamming his fist on the bed, his expression screwed up. With one more stroke and thrust, Dean’s orgasm finally broke the surface. He gasped loudly and spasmed for what felt like minutes. He arched up for Gabriel to ravage him, and ravage he did.

Gabriel fucked him through his orgasm, until he’d pushed every last drop of it out of Dean’s cock. Dean whimpered. He actually whimpered. He clawed at the sheets and grit his teeth. Gabriel came with a moan and slowed to a halt at last.

Dean collapsed. He barely felt Gabriel pull out of him, but he felt oddly empty when he was gone. Dean lay panting silently on the bed, laying in his own cum. He didn’t even care. He felt Gabriel’s warmth return as he pulled Dean to him. The pressure felt amazing. It pressed all of his reverberating bliss into a ball in the very center of his body, making his very soul ring in satisfaction. He looked up groggily and mustered out one word:


Gabriel chuckled. He let Dean ride out his pleasure high for a while. He was surprisingly patient. When Dean looked back up, Gabriel had turned a light on and had magicked him and his bed clean. He was laying on Dean, idly reading his copy of Busty Asian Beauties.

“Really?” Dean grumbled.

Gabriel flashed him a smile. “Morning, sunshine.”

Dean reached out and swatted the magazine out of his hand. Gabriel chuckled and set it down, then let Dean pull him into a sloppy kiss. Gabriel kissed back instantly. He cuddled Dean to him as they lay sideways on his bed, butt-naked.

“So uh...”

“Don’t tell Sammy?”

Dean grinned sleepily. “Yeah. That. But...”

Gabriel looked at him curiously.

“I can’t… I can’t keep me eyes open.” He admitted. “So I’m going to sleep. You’re going to give me a few hours, and then...”

“And then...” Gabriel smirked dangerously.

Dean flushed a little. “Then you’re to do all that stuff you said...”


“...about visiting me in my sleep and... all that.” Dean informed him. There was the slightest bit of embarrassment behind Dean’s exhausted attempt at nonchalance, and it made Gabriel’s smirk widen.

“You got it, Dean-o.”

Dean smiled in satisfaction. “You’re a freak, Gabriel.” He dropped his head onto the sheets and closed his eyes.

Gabriel chuckled. “Oh, you have no idea.” He snapped them both under the blankets and turned the lights off, leaving them in darkness once more.

Chapter Text

Getting To Know You


21 January 2015
Lebanon, Kansas

British Men of Letters
Attending Officer: Mr. Arthur Ketch
Report Type: Class C Sub 8


At 16:24 on January 20th, a type B spirit was reported in the home of Mr. and Mrs. White, 42 Oak Lane, Stockton, Kansas. Type C spirit was confirmed upon further investigation. Samuel “Sam” William Winchester and myself, Arthur Ketch, attended the scene under identification code 342. The subject in question was cremated and it was determined their spirit was attached to a self portrait, artistic taste notwithstanding. We returned to the house at 23:00. The portrait was burned by myself, while Mr. Winchester ran surveillance. Upon subsequent investigation, the spirit was determined to be evicted. We returned to Bunker 1A, where I proceeded to fuck Samuel “Sam” William Winchester in the artifact room.

See attached file for a full list of documents and expenditures.


Ketch paused, a subtle smirk on his lips.

“...You know you don’t have to write those anymore.” Sam appeared beside him. “You don’t work for the British Men of Letters anymore.”

Ketch took a calculated breath. “Yes, well. These are for my own records.” He minimized the document and swiveled around to face Sam.

“Uh-huh.” Sam said, unconvinced. “Does it say anything in there about the artifact room?”

“Oh.” Ketch said. “In vigorous detail.”

Sam laughed. “Unbelievable.”

“Yes. I thought so, too.” He eyed Sam approvingly.


The hunt had started off innocent enough. Ketch didn’t have any friends, you see. And Sam, well, as Dean put it, he had a habit of taking in strays. He was sensitive. Yes, that’s what it was, sensitive. Anyhow, Sam discovered that Ketch spent his evenings alone and decided to offer his friendship. These were trying times, he said, and it was important to stick together, previous complications and attempted assassinations aside. So Sam invited Ketch to join him on a local hunt. Nothing major, in case Ketch tried to murder him again or what have you.

Ketch had to admit he was curious. He had never truly seen Sam work a case, and he’d been told that Sam was simply the best. As it turned out, these rumors were vastly understated. Sam was a convincing and effective liar, proficient in both evasion and combat, and a natural born killer. In other words, everything that made Ketch’s nether regions quiver.

Once they hunt was over, they didn’t made it three feet into the bunker before they were making out, hard and severe against a storage cabinet. Sam was always Ketch’s favorite. Sure, Dean was hostile and aggressive with the mouth of a sailor, suggesting he’d be quite the bed mate. But Ketch had a secret fetish for damaged goods, and Sam was the perfect balance of broken yet unbreakable that made Ketch want to see just how far he could bend him.

It hadn’t been entirely Ketch’s fault. Sam had certainly played his part.

“So much for friendship.” Ketch muttered smartly, directing Sam’s hips to rub against his erection as they made out against a table in an unused artifact room.

Sam huffed a laugh, grinding against him gladly. “Yeah. Wasn’t it you who said you don’t have friends because you end up either killing them or sleeping with them?”

“Mm.” Ketch hummed approvingly. He grabbed a fistful of Sam’s luxurious hair and pulled his head back, “And what was it you said in return?” He kissed Sam’s neck, holding back a prideful smile. “That it ‘had better be the latter’?”

Oh yes, it was all Sam’s fault.

Sam smiled breathlessly. “Yeah. I didn’t think you’d be all talk though.” He goaded him.

Sam was even more resilient than Ketch had expected. He immediately understood what Lady Bevell saw in him, as regrettable as it was to be reminded of her in such a moment.

Ketch planted his hand firmly on Sam’s ass and rolled their hips together. “Are you challenging me, Mr. Winchester?” He rose a brow.

“What if I am?”

Ketch smiled, then pushed Sam down onto his knees, “Then I’d have to put you in your place.”

Sam gave him a dangerously flirtatious look and began unbuckling his pants.

“That’s a good boy, Sam.” Ketch watched him fixedly, “Perhaps you American hunters are a smart lot after all.” He teased, although his voice was heady and breathless.

Sam sprung Ketch’s cock free of his trousers as casually as if he were flipping through a page of lore in the Men of Letters’ library. Ketch’s breathing went shallow. Sam flashed him another one of those promising looks that made Ketch’s knuckles go white on the table, then he opened his mouth and dove in.

Ketch swallowed and groped a hand through Sam’s hair, “Although, if you were truly smart, you’d have shorter hair. Harder for an enemy to pull.” He seemed to be speaking more to distract himself, but Sam wouldn’t let him get distracted. He licked a broad stripe up the underside of Ketch’s cock.

“What if I like it pulled?” He licked his lips.

Ketch had a response prepared, until Sam swallowed Ketch’s back into his mouth and sucked. Ketch sighed in pleasure instead.

“That’s it Sam...” He clenched his jaw.


Ketch’s hand tightened in Sam’s hair as he bobbed about him. He found a steady, comfortable pace, making Ketch melt against the table. Soon Ketch was pulling his hair in earnest, forcing his cock down his throat. Sam craned his neck and closed his eyes, but he wasn’t just letting Ketch face fuck him – he was fucking him back. While Ketch thrust his hips off the table, making Sam’s lips brush against his hot skin, Sam’s fingers were woven into the belt loops of his pants, pulling him back and forth.

“Sam, that’s so bloody good.” Ketch panted.

Sam grinned inwardly. He could taste Ketch’s precum dripping down his throat and thickening his saliva. Sam gave Ketch a firm, claiming suck and enjoyed the shudder of Ketch’s hips and the shameless groan that followed. It made all the discomfort worth it.

“Oh, I knew you’d be naughty.” Ketch breathed. “Oh Hell. I’d take you right here, Sam, if you’d let me. Show you what it’s like to be fucked by a proper Man of Letters. Hm?”

Sam swallowed a rush of arousal. That was the most polite way anyone had ever asked to fuck him, and yet Ketch said it so savagely that Sam could feel the lust dripping off his lips.

“Can a ‘proper Man of Letters’ get the job done?” Sam flirted, enjoying the sight of Ketch so uncharacteristically riled up.

Ketch may have been breathless and overcome with need in that moment, but his old stiffness returned to him in an instant, “Oh Hell.” He muttered, then unceremoniously grabbed Sam by the hair and shoved him onto the ground.

Sam could have laughed. “There’s the Ketch I know.” He swallowed, tasting him again.

“Hm.” Ketch smiled. “I thought you hated ‘this’ Ketch?” He said, making quick work of Sam’s pants and boxers.

Sam looked sideways at him. “I do. I mean, I did. You were such a dick...”

“Apology accepted.” Ketch replied. His gaze softened as he eyed Sam’s toned ass and proud cock jutting between his legs.

“...But I always knew you’d be good in bed.” Sam finished.

Ketch’s gaze sharpened. “Very impressive, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam smiled in amusement.


It took a while for Ketch to get Sam loosened up (“And you call me a tight ass.”), but he turned out to be quite good with his hands. Sam thought so, anyway. Ketch found some oil in a supply cabinet, and soon he had one hand on the back of Sam’s neck and three fingers inside him. Sam groaned shamelessly on the floor, but it seemed that not even Ketch’s fingers could wipe that look of defiance off his face. (“Where’d you find lube?”) Ketch didn’t mind at all. He actually preferred it that way.

At last, Ketch slid a condom on (“You just keep those on you?”) threw his tie over his shoulder, and sunk into Sam’s ass. Sam’s defiance faltered at last. Their groans fed off one another as Ketch pushed in hot and slow. Within minutes, Ketch was fucking him hard. He gave Sam all he had, while Sam shouted his approval on the floor. Ketch grit his teeth and goaded him on the whole time.

“You’re so fucking tight, Sam. Oh bloody… you feel incredible.”

“Too many… syllables… fuck harder.”

Ketch didn’t hesitate to, not when he was buried to the hilt and Sam was still talking back; still fucking back. Ketch grabbed Sam’s knee and bent it against his chest, removing his leverage. The sideways position finally seemed to do the trick. Sam gasped and grabbed a chair leg for support, knocking it over, while his other hand flew down and began stroking himself.

They were both down to one syllable in no time.

“Oh, yeah… there… fuck, Ketch!”

“Yes… that’s it, so good, Sam.”

Sam was stroking himself, tight lipped and eyes shut, while Ketch ravaged him. Ketch himself was only slightly disheveled, but that alone did wonders for Sam. He could see the lust in Ketch’s eyes and hear it in his voice. He loosened his tie as he began to sweat and threw his jacket off, redoubling his efforts. Sam groaned in encouragement.

Ketch’s hips pumped hungrily into Sam’s ass while Sam stroked himself faster than ever. Within seconds, they were both seizing up and trembling. Sam came first, spasming in bliss with his cheek pressed against the tile floor. He moaned hotly and arched up like he couldn’t get enough of Ketch’s cock. Ketch came within seconds. He pulled out quickly and stroked himself through it, groaning heavily. He sank down into a sitting position against the table leg while he caught his breath. It took him longer than Sam.

Sam sat up groggily, noting the mess they’d made.

“Why did you pull out?” He asked. “I thought you had a condom.”

“I did.” Ketch nodded breathlessly. “But olive oil breaks down latex you know.”

Sam considered this as he tossed Ketch his clothes. He had taken off the most, yet was still the more fully dressed. “We had olive oil? In the artifact room?” Sam asked, getting dressed.

Ketch took a deep breath, then smirked slightly. “Well, holy oil is derived from it so... I’d say yes, you do.”

Sam blinked. “Holy oil? Really?”

Ketch rose a brow.

Sam scoffed. “Well at least I’m angel resistant.”


After the room was cleaned, Sam and Ketch decided that what happened in the artifact room stayed in the artifact room. Frankly, it was nobody’s business except theirs. Well, theirs and the report filed away on Ketch’s laptop. But it was like Sam said, Ketch didn’t work for the British Men of Letters anymore, so there was no reason anyone needed to find out at all.

Chapter Text

An Angel and Demon In Us All


Sam didn’t know how it went so bad so fast – they were just supposed to be keeping watch. Castiel, Meg, and himself were outside the warehouse while Dean and Benny sneaked around inside. It was an odd group, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The next thing they knew, demons were swarming them from all sides and Meg was down. Sam got Meg to safety while Castiel fought them off.

“Cas!” Sam shouted. “We need to get out of here! Get Dean!”

“No!” Castiel panted, “The building’s warded. We need to clear them a path out.”

Sam looked around desperately. This was bad. Meg had taken down a few of her fellows but there were too many. A demon jumped Sam and he stabbed him with the demon blade.

“Sam,” Meg slurred. “The warding... Only Cas could get me inside. Leave me and go.”

Sam didn’t respond. He didn’t fully trust Meg, but he trusted Castiel. And he knew Castiel didn’t want anyone left behind.

“Sam. Leave me.”

“We’re not leaving anyone.” Sam breathed.

“Then you know what you gotta do.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. He looked over his shoulder at Castiel, then at the warded building. It a new kind of warding Sam had discovered in the Men of Letters bunker; it deterred all demons except those escorted by the bearer of the blood used for the seal, which in this case was Castiel. But Meg was in no shape to move. So Sam took a steadying breath and turned the blade on himself. “Fine. Hurry up and do it.”

Meg smiled lazily.


Sam and Castiel smashed down a boarded up window and threw themselves into the warehouse. Demon smoke bounced off the invisible border and ricocheted away into the night. Sam and Castiel watched apprehensively, then sank onto the dusty floor in shock. For a while the only sounds were that of their labored breaths and the wind howling outside. Castiel’s hand was clasped firmly on Sam’s arm, and Sam’s tattoo was bleeding down his ripped shirt.

Finally, Sam smirked, “Well I’d say that worked out pretty well.”

Castiel glanced at him warily, “That was risky, Sam. If you hadn’t gotten to me in time you would have been warded, too.”

Sam got up and stretched stiffly, “He knows.” Meg dismissed him in Sam’s voice. He walked over to Castiel and patted his head. “Heal up, buttercup. You’re hurt.”

“So are you.”

“Not in this body.” Sam quirked a brow, still smirking, “And it’s a pretty great one if you haven’t noticed. Or maybe you have.” He rose a brow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam ignored him and was examined himself lazily. “Kudos, Sam. Looks like the adrenaline and powerbar diet is really working out for you.” He picked vaguely at his fingernails.

Castiel felt winded listening to him. Her. Whichever. “Well, we just have to wait for Dean and Benny now. I’m sure we can finish off the rest of the demons with their help.” He stole a glance at Meg. “You can leave Sam now, right?”

“Are you inviting me in for slumber party, Clarence?” Sam tilted his head, “Because I don’t see a whole lot of other options. There may be a rat somewhere in here...”

“Right.” Castiel sighed, “Well, just… be careful.” He looked away from her.

“Mhm. Say, why don’t you call Dean and tell him we’re waiting inside now?”

“Can’t. I don’t have my phone. Sam should.”

Sam checked his pockets, coming dangerously close to groping himself a few times.

Castiel eyed him anxiously.

“Relax, would you?” He found the phone in his back pocket, flipped it open, and dialed Dean. “Dean! How are you? That’s great.” He said in one sultry breath, “Listen, the boys and I got ambushed by demons. We’re waiting for you inside.”

Castiel jumped up in realization and tried to take the phone, but Meg was taller now. And she was enjoying it. Sam bit back a grin, standing on his tiptoes to keep the phone just out of reach of Castiel. “No, nothing’s wrong at all! I feel better than usual actually. Sexier, too. Mhm. No, you had it right the first time...” He sounded bored again. “Yes, yes… I’ll leave your brother once we’re...” There was a loud click. “Huh.” Sam looked in the phone in mild amusement. “He hung up on his own brother. What an ass.”

Castiel gave him a warning look.

“Oh come on, Cas. It’s a joke. Sam’s laughing in here, trust me.”

When Castiel gave him that skeptical look of his, Sam took Castiel’s hand in his larger one and put it on his forehead. “See for yourself.” She invited.

Castiel looked hesitant, but he closed his eyes. For a second he sensed Sam. Meg wasn’t lying. Sam wasn’t panicked or asking for help. He was calm. A little annoyed, but ready to do the time if it meant they got out of there in one, or less, pieces. Castiel removed his hand.

“See?” Sam smiled.

“Alright.” Castiel nodded. He backed up, looking anywhere but at Sam.

Sam quirked a brow, “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

Castiel glanced at him, wide eyed.

Sam’s smile widened. He folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned on one hip, doing a striking impression of Meg. “You are. You’re getting off on seeing me in this giant, muscular body.”

“That’s not… What are you implying?” He squinted at him.

Sam tilted his head knowingly, “Oh Cas, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Sam is pretty hot after all. Doesn’t take a genius to notice that.” He leaned casually against a crate. “So what do you say? Should we have a little fun before the cavalry arrives?” He purred.

Castiel felt winded again. He looked around, avoiding Sam’s gaze like it was a sin, “No. No. We can’t. It’s wrong.”

Sam shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

Castiel swallowed.

Sam let the silence spiral horribly. The windows around them rattled softly in the wind. Castiel sat back down stiffly.

“So.” Sam sighed, his gaze sliding over to Castiel. “How do you want to pass the time?”

“We could sit here quietly.” He offered.

Sam groaned. He sat down beside Castiel anticlimactically.

“You know… Sam wouldn’t say no to you.”

Castiel glanced over at him.

“I’m in his head. I can see all his secret little feelings. Sometimes he thinks about you when he touches himself.” He bit his lip. “He wonders what it would be like… with an Angel of the Lord.”

Castiel felt dizzy, “I… that’s… Sam wouldn’t want me to know that. Even if it’s true.”

“Why would I lie, Cas?” Sam asked seriously. He turned to face Cas and put his hands on his shoulders. “He reveres you, you know.” He almost sounded annoyed by it. And yet, he slid a leg over Castiel’s lap and smoothly sat himself down. “Besides, Sam’s got the juice to force me out if he wanted to.” He put Castiel’s hands on his waist and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “And uh… if you haven’t noticed… I’m still here.”

Castiel’s jaw was slack, and his eyes were hazy. “He really… I mean, he’s really...”

“Into you? Yup.” Sam pressed himself against Castiel, rolling his ass teasingly on Castiel’s lap. “And he’s really, really into this. You and me, in his body.”

Castiel felt his heart thumping against his chest. He closed his eyes as he felt Sam’s breath ghost his lips. The next thing Castiel knew, he was grabbing Sam and pulling him into a kiss.

Sam hummed in interest and immediately kissed back, nipping and sucking on his lips. They made out shamelessly in the warehouse, humping and grinding against each other, until Castiel couldn’t take anymore. They began stripping each other and, in less than a minute, Castiel was pushing Sam onto the floor. Sam’ was half naked with his jeans and boxers around one leg and his shirt pulled up. He was missing a boot. Castiel’s pants were around his calves and his shirt was open. He lifted Sam’s butt off the warehouse floor, prepped him with grace, then sank his cock deep into Sam’s tight, wet body.

Sam cried out in pleasure. It was a sound Castiel couldn’t have dreamed of. It was so indulgent and radiant that he couldn’t help but begin fucking Sam at once.

Meg and Sam gasped in unison as Castiel ravaged them both on the floor. Through Meg’s eyes, Sam saw Castiel’s dark wings flared out, each feather quivering with lust. His tie was swept over his shoulder, and his body was flushed and taut. He looked downright feral, and neither Sam nor Meg Sam had ever been so turned on.

Lubricant seeped out of Sam with every thrust, creating a mess at Castiel’s scuffed knees. Castiel’s soft grunts and groans rang clear in the tall ceilinged room, but Sam’s voice echoed. He shouted and begged in pleasure, and Castiel couldn’t tell if it was Meg or Sam anymore. He didn’t know what was sexier – the fact that Meg was so into this, or the fact that Sam was.

Sam was completely erect and leaking precum, so Meg reached down to stroke him. She clearly had not been expecting it to feel as good as it did. Sam shuddered in surprise and moaned hotly. All of Sam’s muscles melted around Castiel as Meg got to know his cock. Castiel helped her, guiding her hand with his own. Sam made a sound that sounded more like Sam than Meg – an overwhelmingly encouraging sound – as both angel and demon played with his cock.

It was a kind of bondage Sam had never experienced: his own body was his binding. He was free in his mind, yet he couldn’t do a damned thing to affect the sensations; he could only endure them. Meg and Castiel had full reign and, between the two of them, they played him just right. They attacked his most sensitive spots, driving him crazy with pleasure.

Castiel hiked Sam’s ass onto his lap, and the resulting angle made Meg cry out in alarm. Castiel nearly stopped, until he realized what had happened: He’d found Sam’s prostate. Castiel grabbed Sam’s thighs to hold that position, then fucked Sam’s prostate until both he and Meg were a trembling, cursing mess. Meg had stopped stroking Sam, so Castiel took over, pumping his cock expertly. Sam, or maybe it was Meg, stretched out with their arms above their head, mouth open wide, completely lost in bliss. He arched on Castiel’s lap and moaned his name over and over again. The sight of Sam so undone, murmuring and whimpering with Meg’s simpering tone, was almost too much for Castiel. He was going to come any second.

At last, Sam’s body seized up on the floor. Castiel stroked the cum right out of him as Sam cried out in ecstasy. Castiel was right behind him. He groaned and came hard in Sam’s ass, working through it to milk them both dry.

When all three of them were winded, Castiel collapsed atop Sam, panting and gasping in unison. Sam could feel his feathers brushing against him as his wings spread out on the floor. Meg reached forward and pulled Castiel close. It was Heaven.

“Congratulations, Clarence.” Meg sighed. “You’ve officially nailed a demon and Sam Winchester at the same time.” She hummed in his ear. “Feel good?”

Castiel nodded lazily. “Yes.” He said, cuddling them both.

“Hm… Sam is one happy camper, believe me.” She smirked. “Oh. And he likes your feathers.”

Castiel looked surprised. For a moment his wings shrunk a little, like they were hiding, but then he relaxed again. “Oh really? Well...” He nuzzled Sam’s lips with his own. “Sam Winchester is welcome to see them anytime he wants.”

Meg hummed in approval, petting Castiel’s feathers.

Sam’s phone rang, dragging them all back to reality. Meg found it by her feet, but she gave it to Castiel and lay back down to relax.


After some quick cleaning up and getting dressed, Castiel and Meg were greeting Dean and Benny. They’d found what they were looking for and were ready to take on the demons. Except… the demons were gone. Castiel looked at Meg suspiciously. Dean hadn’t stop glaring at her since they met up. Meg, or Sam, was beaming.

Overall, it had been a successful mission for all involved. Castiel healed Meg’s body and she returned to it without issue. She seemed happy to have herself back, except she kept hinting that she missed having one part of Sam in particular. Sam avoided everyone’s gaze for a while, but eventually everything returned to normal. When Meg thanked him for temporary housing, he thanked her back and smiled at Castiel. Castiel blushed furiously.

Dean and Benny decided not to ask any questions.

Chapter Text

Exorcising Those Demons


"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii...".

"Tell us what you know!"

The demon chained to a chair cackled.

"Omnis legio! Omnis con potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii..."

"This isn't going to work," Balthazar sighed. "Can't we just kill him?"

"Trust me,” Dean ignored Balthazar and approached the devil’s trap, "sending you back to Crowley will be much worse than death."

The demon spat blood and laughed victoriously.

"Omnis legio!” Sam rose his voice. “Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica!"

The demon roared and began to shake violently.

"Tell us where it is!" Dean roared back.

"Ergo! Draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica..."

The demon's head fell back and his mouth opened wide...


Sam, Dean, Balthazar, and the demon turned their heads towards the door.

Rowena MacLeod, sopping wet from the storm and looked harassed, burst into the abandoned church.

"Hello boys! My what a party you all are having! Hope you don't mind one more." She sang, trotting right up to Sam.

Sam stared at her in disbelief, "Actually, we do-"

"Now now, Samuel," Rowena was already taking out a tiny mirror and fixing her hair, "if you'll let me, I have a wee spell to remove that stick from up your arse."

Balthazar rose a brow.

"Uh... Rowena," Dean turned on her, "we're kind of in the middle of something here."

The demon giggled.


The door burst open again, making the five of them jump. Rowena squeaked and hid behind Balthazar.

A handsome, older gentleman in a suit vest and slacks sauntered in. There was a scratch by his eye that was bleeding into his carefully sculpted beard.

"There! That's the man! Get him boys!" Rowena hollered.

The man exposed a fanged grin.

Sam and Dean raised their guns at once.

"What the hell, Rowena?" Dean said.

"What are you waiting for?" She yelled.

"Rowena..." the man simpered, walking towards them desperately, "please, can't we discuss this like adults?"

Sam shot him in the chest, but he waded right through it.

"Are you two daft? Kill him!" She shrieked.

"Rowena, love..." he begged, "we can make this work!"

Dean rolled his eyes, "this is ridiculous." He grabbed a sword from the table beside the demon and attacked. He tried to cut the vamp's head off, but the man dodged, grabbed Dean by the collar, and threw him like a rag doll across the warehouse.

Sam paled, "What the hell did you get us into, Rowena?"

Rowena snarled and stepped out from behind Balthazar, "It's over, Winston! Over! I don't want to see you anymore!"

"You can't get rid of me that easily," Winston warned.

"I... I'm seeing someone else…!" Rowena blinked, putting on a quick but nasty smile, "and you can't touch him. He's even more powerful than you," She sneered.

"Is that so?" He asked skeptically.

"Erm..." Rowena looked around desperately.

Balthazar looked half amused half annoyed at the unexpected conflict. He caught Rowena’s glance just in time to sputter a confused, "wha...?" before Rowena got on her tiptoes, swept her arms around Balthazar, and kissed him passionately.

Dean looked up from a pile of boxes. Sam lowered his gun. Winston looked crestfallen, and the demon was idly inspecting his fingernails.

The kiss lasted far too long. Sam coughed. Dean groaned. Finally, Rowena slid off of Balthazar who now had an arm around her waist. Balthazar shared a shocked look with Winston, who was paralyzed.

“You...” Winston rose a shaking finger at her and approached, “...trollop! You whore! You…!”

"Oh bloody hell... " Balthazar sighed. He flicked his wrist and the vampire exploded, spraying Sam with blood and viscera.

Rowena sighed in surprise, "Oh!"

Sam gagged.

"Rowena!" Dean shouted, clambering out of the ruined boxes. "What was that?"

"Tell me about it!" Rowena said. "What kind of apology was that?"

"No,” Sam helped Dean over, "he means... what was that." He pointed his gun at the bloody pile in the middle of the warehouse.

"Oh." Rowena deflated, "Winston,” She answered shortly, "the incredibly wealthy and tragically single heir to a large family estate that I was kind of courting. Turns out the family was head of the largest vampire nest in New Hampshire so..."

"So you led him here. To us!" Sam accused.

"Of course!" Rowena said, glancing flirtatiously up at Balthazar, "You boys usually have an angel up your sleeve. Although I must say I like this version much better..." She slid her palms up Balthazar’s chest.

Balthazar smirked.

"And... you're leaving," Dean said. “You've done enough damage here..."

"Oh, I dunno," Balthazar interjected, "I think she could do some more." He winked at her.

Rowena giggled and pressed herself against Balthazar.

"Really?" Sam sighed, "this is an exorcism, if you hadn’t noticed."

"An exorcism?" Rowena glanced at the demon dismissively, "Why don't you just kill him?"

Balthazar looked at them exasperatedly, "That's what I said!"

"You know what?" Dean picked up the sword and rounded on the demon. The demon gave a startled shout before Dean decapitated him. His fell to the floor with dull ‘thud’.

Sam sighed.

"There. Exorcism over." Dean threw the blade on the ground, "now, how many vampire-mobster-family hit lists are we on now?"

"Oh, goodness,” Rowena said, “All of them."

Balthazar chuckled darkly.


Crowley was having a terrible day in Hell. The contracts were never-ending, the demons were petty and insufferable, and there was never enough infant blood to go around. At four o clock Crowley fancied himself a kip and slipped away to his royal bed chambers. Except, he heard an odd noise coming from inside. It sounded like a woman dying in agony. He pushed the doors open, hoping it was his mother.

Fortunately, it was his mother. Unfortunately, she wasn’t dying in agony.



"Oscar Wilde!"

Crowley and Rowena both looked at Balthazar.

“What, I thought we were just saying names...”

Rowena and Balthazar's shamelessly nude, intertwined bodies were draped in Crowley's expensive furs and silks, and Crowley's aged bottle of scotch was opened and half drunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Crowley snapped.

“What’s it look like, Fergus?” Rowena scoffed, “maybe you should try knocking next time!”

“It’s my room!” Crowley glared at the both of them, "Out! Both of you!”

"How rude...”

“...That’s your son, then?” Balthazar asked casually.

“Some son he is! You’d think the King o’ Hell would have enough on his plate to spend a whole day at work! For once!”

“While you screw Raphael in my bed?”

“It’s Balthazar,” Rowena corrected him.

"Oh, please," Balthazar turned to Crowley, "call me Daddy." He winked.

Rowena smirked.


“Okay, but, I am still inside your mother.”



Sam and Dean spent the whole day looking for another demon to interrogate, this time without Balthazar’s help. But they had no luck. They returned to their motel room surly and exhausted.

“How are we going to find Lucifer’s crypt now, Dean?” Sam asked as Dean let them inside.

“You think I know?”

"Oh, you're looking for one of Lucifer's crypts?”

Sam and Dean raised their guns towards the intruder lounging on Dean’s bed. Crowley had a glass of Scotch and was flipping Dean’s porn magazines, wearing nothing but a motel robe.

“Why didn't you ask me sooner? It's on route 83 just past the diner."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

"Why are you here, Crowley?" Sam asked hotly.

"Because I can't stand one more minute around Mother.” Crowley threw the magazine aside.

Dean caught it gingerly. Sam gave him a look.

“Did you know she's brought an angel to my lair?” Crowley ranted. “My lair! An angel!"

Sam and Dean made uncomfortable sounds.

"That arrogant bastard," Crowley took a long sip and recrossed his legs.

"Uh Crowley... " Sam shielded his eyes painfully, “Could you uh, maybe put some more clothes on?”

“No,” Crowley replied immediately. “And I suggest one of you get another room. Unless you want to share.” His voice dropped to a sultry tone and he rose a brow at Dean.

Dean glared, “I’m sleeping in the car.”

Crowley shifted his gaze to Sam, “Works for me. Say, Samantha, why don’t we push the beds together tonight, hm?”

“I’ll join you,” Sam said stiffly as he followed Dean back outside.

Crowley shrugged and regally sipped his drink.

Chapter Text

Heaven and Hell


Meg Masters was waiting in a small rental cabin in the woods. She’d lit a fire and was sprawled out leisurely in a chair facing the front door. She was also naked.

It was pouring rain outside, but there was no mistaking the burst of sound as an angel appeared outside her door. Meg smirked and fondled her breast as the door opened. Her phone lay forgotten on the mantle showing a single text:

“42 Forest St. Come alone. I need your help, Clarence.”

Castiel rushed inside and froze. He was soaked, tousled-hair, and looking frantic. For a moment he seemed confused. “Meg! I came as soon as I could. What’s… the matter...” His eyes followed Meg’s hand hypnotically as she touched herself, “Why are you...”

“Naked?” Meg supplied. Her voice was smooth and sultry, “I said I wanted to thank you, didn’t I? For saving my life?”

Castiel swallowed.

“But you forgot the pizza,” she purred, smirking wider than ever. “Naughty angel.

Castiel finally seemed to understand. He slammed the door shut and loosened his tie. Meg hummed in interest and stayed right where she was.

Castiel stalked over to her and she pulled him onto his knees and into a long awaited kiss. Castiel was soaked, but Meg didn’t care. She held him close, her breasts pressing against the panels of his damp trench coat.

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes, hm?” She smoothed his coat off his shoulders.

Castiel smiled slightly and began to strip. He sat back to make a little show of it and Meg rose a brow in approval. She slipped a hand down her body and rubbed herself as Castiel got undressed.

“How about you leave the tie on?” She rasped.

Castiel did as she said. Once he was naked he leaned forward to kiss Meg’s neck. She put her arms around him while Castiel groped her bare skin.

“This is a good look for you, Clarence.” Meg sighed, raking her nails down his muscular back.

Castiel seemed beside himself with Meg’s body. He groped her breasts and sucked at her collarbone. When his lips found her nipple she moaned softly. Castiel may not have understood much about social cues, but he knew that that was a very good sound.

Castiel nibbled and sucked at her nipples, making Meg moan and pet his wet hair encouragingly. He fondled one with his hand while he planted kisses on the other. His thumb brushed and rolled the sensitive bud, and in no time Meg was undulating against him. She took Castiel’s hand and pushed it between her legs. She spread them out over the chair arms and let Castiel feel her throbbing clit.

“Right there, Clarence,” she told him.

Sure enough, when Castiel rubbed the pad of his thumb over her wet clit Meg moaned again. The sound was beautiful to Castiel. He moved his head down and Meg helped without complaint, guiding his lips right down. She draped her legs over Castiel’s shoulders and cried out when Castiel’s tongue replaced his thumb.

Meg gasped softly as Castiel ate her out. “That’s it, Cas. Mmm… you’re a natural. Use that tongue, baby,” she rasped.

Castiel licked her apart then lapped at her sensitive clit. Meg smiled and moaned. He caught it between his lips and sucked, like he trying to get every last drop out of her. He’d never been confident with sex, so he was delighted to be able to make Meg cry out in pleasure with such a simple, intuitive task. It was like eating ice cream – except this tasted much better.

“Oh! Cas!” she trembled, grabbing his hair, “Oh, good angel. Yes baby. Yes… use your teeth a little... not too hard,” she pet his hair and tightened her legs around him, “that’s it...”

Castiel used his fingers to hold her lips apart as he ravaged her with his tongue. He brushed his chin stubble along her weeping entrance, making Meg jump and giggle. Then he pressed his nose into her and sucked, using his teeth to gently coax her clit into his mouth.

Meg melted and began humping his face. “Oh yes… Castiel… oh...” she writhed, “oh I am going to make love to you, Cas. I’m going to pin you to the floor and bring you down to Hell with me...” she buried her face in her hand as Castiel buried his between her legs.

Castiel hummed in response. He slid two fingers into her as he worked his jaw and tongue. He was more than pleased with the result.

Meg gasped and held onto Castiel with her arms and legs. “Mmn… you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” She breathed happily, riding those fingers along with Castiel’s mouth.

She was gripping him so hard that he was glad he didn’t need to breathe. She found his tie and pulled on it like reigns to keep him going. Castiel wasn’t complaining. Meg’s intimacy smelled so good, and it tasted even better. He wanted to eat it all night. But soon Meg was shaking and cursing and riding him harder than ever. Castiel massaged her while he licked and sucked her clit, and within seconds she was coming in his face.

“Cas!” she moaned in ecstasy.

Castiel flinched when she came. He clearly hadn’t been expecting a face full of… was that cum? He dabbed at his face with his tie. He was just pleased his work had made her so happy. Meg’s head was against the chair and she was panting happily. Her legs were trembling on either side of Castiel’s head. He rubbed his cheek against her smooth thigh and kissed her.

“Oh, Clarence,” Meg caressed his face with surprising tenderness.

Castiel held the back of her hand kissed her palm.

She ran her finger through the clear fluid on his nose and smirked. “You made me squirt... I didn’t know this body could do that.”

She seemed very pleased by this, so Castiel smiled slightly. “Yes, I thought only men ejaculate during sex,” He confided.

Meg giggled. She pulled Castiel up into a kiss, then licked his face clean. She even licked the spot on his tie. Castiel had no idea licking some could be so sexy, but he was more erect than ever.

“You’re… beautiful.” Castiel breathed.

Meg smirked and slid down onto his lap, “Don’t sappy on me, Clarence.”

Castiel’s hands groped Meg’s ass instinctively, “I’m… not. Only trees can make sap...” Castiel’s voice faltered as Meg’s hand found his cock. He groaned softly.

“Oh? And what can you make?” she teased, rubbing her heat against his throbbing cock.

Castiel’s grip on her tightened. Meg grabbed Castiel’s tie and steered him flat on his back. His eyes widened in surprise as Meg climbed onto him and pinned his chest with one hand.

“I can make love to you.”

“Good answer,” she purred. “You know, I keep my promises, Clarence. And I said I was going to thank you,” she dragged her nails down Castiel’s chest, leaving faint red lines. She tickled down to his cock, earning a small shudder from him, “You ready, baby?”

Castiel nodded breathlessly. He watched in hazy arousal as Meg gripped Castiel’s cock firmly and positioned herself over it. He felt her raw heat kiss the head of his cock, then slowly swallow him whole.

They groaned in unison as Meg sank down. She was so smooth and wet. Castiel watched his cock disappear into her body, until she was sitting flush on Castiel’s hips.

“Oh, Meg...” Castiel groaned, groping her thighs weakly.

Meg gave an open-mouthed grin and began to move. She set a slow, indulgent pace, undulating on Castiel’s cock. His head fell back against the floor and he groaned. She rode him like an angel, fondling her breasts and tipping her head back in ecstasy.

Castiel couldn’t believe how sexy she was. She was carelessly having her way with him, soaking up all the pleasure she could from his cock. Soon he was gripping her hips and rolling his ass up to meet her. Meg smiled and picked up the pace. She began riding him into the floor, moaning shamelessly. She dragged his hands over her breasts and held them there. Castiel was in Heaven. Or maybe it was Hell – because he would have killed for another second of this.

Luckily, Meg had no intentions of stopping. Her voice was climbing and she dropped Castiel’s hands to lean back and steady herself on his thighs. Castiel fondled her everywhere he could reach. His thumb found her clit again and Meg gasped.

“Oh… you’re an angel, Clarence.” she smirked.

She rode Castiel like a bull, grinding her clit into his hand. Castiel began fucking her in earnest and she cried out in pleasure. She shivered and she soaked Castiel for the second time.

Castiel was breathless with arousal. He had a perfect view of Meg’s orgasm: her whole body lit up with pleasure and her expression was screwed up with bliss. It seemed to radiate from her belly outwards, curling her toes and making her drag a hand through her hair.

Castiel brought his messy fingers to his lips and licked off Meg ejaculation. Once she opened her eyes again to smile down at Castiel, he grabbed her and flipped her onto the floor.

Meg exclaimed playfully. Castiel smiled.

“Oh, Clarence,” she teased, rubbing her butt off the floor, “I love it when you get all wrathful.”

Overcome with feral pleasure, Castiel held her wrists to the floor and fucked her hard. Meg cried out in satisfaction.

They fucked each other back and forth all night, lost in the resounding pleasure of their human bodies. Neither of them could remember how many times they had come, but after a few hours they both agreed that they needed rest.

They were sweating and panting on the floor in front of the fire. Castiel picked her up, making her giggle, then deposited her onto the bed. She pulled him down with her and they cuddled close, their bodies ringing with satisfaction.

“So what are you going to tell your boys when they call?” she asked, playing with Castiel’s tie. It was so loose that it slipped right off. Meg threw it mischievously.

Castiel smiled, “That I was out delivering pizzas.”

“There’s my Castiel,” she grinned.

Castiel sighed, “I need to save your life more often.”

“Or… you could text,” she countered.

“Or I could text,” He agreed, “That sounds much easier.” He smiled.

“Only for you, Clarence.”

They dozed for hours, completely undisturbed by Heaven or Hell. When Castiel returned to Sam and Dean, neither of them questioned Castiel's story. It would be his and Meg's little secret.

Chapter Text

The Trap


Dean was bouncing back on the legs of a metal chair in a dimly lit storage room. The walls were lined with shelves full of unfamiliar crap, but Dean had barely noticed. He wished he had his headphones. He wasn’t bored, he was on edge. His gaze was unfocused, resting on the unconscious figure lying in an angel trap. Castiel was bleeding from his nose and his face was ruddy – he probably had a fever. When the guilt became too much, Dean looked away. This was all his fault.


Sam and Dean had been hunting a witch for three days. She’d enslaved a town in some sort of twisted revenge scheme, and they had to kill her to break the spell. It should have been a simple hunt, but it was never simple with witches. That was why Dean hated them. Well, most of them. Rowena did end up saving their lives at the last minute, but at the cost of Castiel’s well-being. So, yeah, Dean hated witches.


Dean’s eyes flicked back to Castiel when he heard him move. Castiel made a low grumble of a sound, like an animal stirring from a deep sleep, then lifted himself up on his hands. He’d had been knocked unconscious by Sam, but an angel could only stay unconscious for so long.


Dean didn’t say a word.

“Dean…” Castiel repeated desperately. His voice was low and rough. He sat up and leaned heavily against a storage shelf, making it creak. He took a shuddering breath, “You need to leave...”

“Rowena will be here soon,” Dean assured him in a voice of forced calm, “I’ll stay with you until then.”

“No,” Castiel shook his head, “Need to… leave… you need to leave… I need… I need it...” Castiel made a pained sound and his eyes flashed blue. A wave of angel power extended to the edge of the trap and fizzled out. The light hanging from the ceiling flickered and swayed.

Dean swallowed his fear and put on a stoic face.

“I need it.”

This wasn’t supposed to happen.


The witch Sam and Dean had been hunting was stronger than either of them expected, so Castiel flew in to help. It was a coincidence that Rowena called. If she hadn’t, they would have never known that killing the witch outright could have ended their lives.

After hearing what the witch was capable of, Rowena told them that she was probably protecting herself with a revenge spell that would curse whoever killed her with whatever her most powerful spell was. The four of them assumed it would be the mind control spell, but there was no way to know for sure, so Castiel decided he should be the one to kill the witch.

Castiel reasoned that no matter what the spell was it probably couldn’t kill an angel. Rowena could then meet them and reverse whatever damage it had done. Sam and Dean didn’t like the plan, but they didn’t see another option. So they gave him their gun loaded with witch killing bullets and, after an intense fight, Castiel killed the witch.


“Dean…” Castiel growled.

The sound startled Dean and he looked over at him.

Castiel looked feral. His eyes were radiating blue energy and he was trembling with a ferocious need.

“I need you.”

Dean paused. “W...what?”

Castiel seemed to be going through some sort of internal transformation. One moment he was clutching the floor and groaning in pain, and the next moment he was growling and eyeing Dean hungrily. Dean could feel the angel trap pulsing with power.

“I want you, Dean.”

Dean swallowed. One look at Castiel confirmed his worst fears. Castiel was horny. He was fucking horny. Dean’s mind went blank. He looked away quickly, telling himself it was just a malicious side effect of the mind control spell, but he knew that wasn’t true. Castiel hadn’t been attacked by the mind control spell; Dean knew that the moment Castiel killed the witch. The spell she’d attached to the revenge spell was something much worse. Sam called it the attack dog spell, but Dean knew it wasn’t that, either.

The moment Castiel shot the witch, he turned on Sam and Dean. They fought him off in complete shock and baited him all the way to the storage facility. Dean had no idea how they managed to trap a violent, ravenous angel full of grace into some poor stranger’s storage room, but there they were. At least the town was saved, right?

“Dean...” Castiel was repeating his name over and over again, like some twisted mantra. It sent chills down Dean’s spine that he couldn’t shake off, but he couldn’t leave Castiel like this.

Castiel groaned and growled in the angel trap, “Dean…” he took a deep, unsettling breath, “...come here.”

Dean stared wearily at the storage room door.

“Come. Here.”

“No, Cas. You’re going to wait this out. Rowena’s on her way.”

“Can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Yes you can.” He said firmly, but Castiel looked a mess. He wished Rowena would hurry the hell up.

“Dean...” he sputtered, “I want you.”

Dean tried to block him out.

“I want you so bad. I want you on this floor… beneath me… writhing.”


“I want… to take you apart, Dean...” he rasped, “I want to feel you melt...”

Dean couldn’t hide the look of alarm on his face. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Cas. This isn’t you.”

“Come to me.” Castiel commanded.

“No. Not happening.”


His shout shook Dean embarrassingly deep. He closed his eyes. He hated himself for doing this to Cas. If he could help him, he would, but he couldn’t do this. Not this. Not with Cas. It was tearing him up inside.

Castiel groaned. The sound was borderline erotic, and it woke a tiny voice in Dean’s head that reminded him quite plainly: you’ve thought about it. You’ve thought about that noise... at the back of your neck. Dean immediately shut the voice down and berated himself for it, but he couldn’t block out Castiel’s voice.

“I want you, Dean...” He growled, “I’ve always… wanted you. I pulled you… from perdition. I made you mine. Come here… and let me make you mine. Let me claim you… again…”

“Enough.” Dean’s voice shook. His gaze was fierce, but it hid something weak and uncertain.

“Dean...” Castiel was unrelenting, “Let me… let me fuck you.”

Dean had never heard Castiel talk like that. He stared at him hard.

“I need it.”

Castiel was radiating angelic power from inside the trap. It should have been enough to keep Dean away, but like it or not, it only made enticed him more. Dean closed his eyes resolutely.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed, “come here.”

It was moments like these when Dean’s rational failed him. People often considered it one of his strengths; He never felt nervous before a fight, he never worried about the plan, his thoughts just stopped, allowing him to charge head first into danger. But in this situation, it wasn’t a strength at all. Dean’s thinking had completely abandoned him, leaving him only able to consider the unthinkable. He glanced at the metal storage door, visualizing Sam outside waiting for Rowena.


Dean opened his eyes. He didn’t remember telling himself to get up, but the next thing he knew he was crouched outside the angel trap, staring at Castiel.

Castiel’s blue eyes were dark with promise. His breath was heavy, falling off his lips in pants. It sounded like it was right in Dean’s ear.

In a moment of weakness, Dean moved into the trap.

For a moment nothing happened, but then Castiel lunged. He sprung on Dean like a wild animal, pinning him to the floor with inhuman strength. Dean gasped and, like a spark of ignition, his instincts kicked in. He thrashed, struggling for some control at least, but it was useless. Castiel held him to the floor with one hand on his collarbone, the other crushing Dean’s bicep. He was beyond reasoning, and Dean wasn’t going anywhere.

“Sh...” Castiel hushed him, although it sounded more like a growl.

Dean tried to relax, he really did, but now that his adrenaline was pumping, he only knew how to fight.

Castiel ignored his struggles completely and ripped Dean’s pants down with ease, although he fumbled a little getting them around his boots. In another lifetime, Dean might have laughed. But he suddenly found himself naked from the hips down and didn’t feel much like laughing.

“Cas!” Dean breathed, only to be shoved back onto the cold, concrete floor.

Dean knew it before he saw it: he was completely erect. A part of him was mortified, but Castiel didn’t seem to notice or care. Dean cursed his own twisted sex drive while Castiel made quick work of his own pants. Then he grabbed Dean by the thighs dragged him across the trap.

Dean knew what he was getting himself into, but it was still a shock to see Castiel’s cock so suddenly between his thigh. He was… thick. Dean swallowed. This was going to hurt like a bitch. What the hell was he thinking? But then Castiel laid a hand on Dean’s forehead and he felt a curious sensation work its way down his pelvis and into his groin. Dean realized what Castiel had done the minute he tried to squirm away. He couldn’t flex anything between his hips and his thighs. Castiel had shut off Dean’s muscle control, making him completely lose and pliable. And lubed from feel of it. Dean felt a rush of panic that was strangely erotic. Sure, he’d tampered with bondage before, but this was a whole other level. Castiel seemed to have done for his sake rather than Dean’s, but Dean didn’t care. He was embarrassingly, impossibly more erect.

“Cas...” Dean sputtered, his nerves finally getting the best of him.

Castiel was unresponsive. He reaffirmed his hold on Dean, then flipped him over. Dean groaned outright. He couldn’t help it. The objectification got to him, and it sent a flare of arousal straight to his groin. He knew what was coming next. Sure enough, he felt Castiel climb on top of him, grappling him brutally to the ground.

Castiel said Dean’s name again, like he was making sure it was still him beneath him. Dean didn’t get a chance to think about it, because in the next second Castiel’s thick cock was parting his ass without warning.

Dean groaned through his teeth and clenched down, but the muscles surrounding Castiel’s cock didn’t respond. Dean had never felt so violated. Castiel slid it without any resistance, spreading Dean further apart with every inch of his throbbing cock. Dean nearly hyperventilated. It was the most intense sensation he’d ever felt. He couldn’t take it. He thrashed in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure, but Castiel just grappled him even more effectively. Dean could feel his hungry breath beating against the back of his neck and Dean moaned. He actually moaned. A rush of fear paralyzed him. Sam was just outside. But it was so hard to keep quiet with Castiel filling Dean to the brim. And when he began fucking him without any reprieve, Dean shoved a fist into his mouth to keep from shouting.

Castiel fucked Dean into the concrete floor like an animal, making him shout and moan into his fist. He could barely breathe. No matter how he writhed or twisted, he couldn’t do anything about the cock fucking him raw and hard. He couldn’t even reach down to touch himself, and he could tell Castiel wasn’t thinking about that. He was groaning in satisfaction. The sound was incredible. Castiel may not have been in his right mind, that groan… that groan was all Cas.

As he passionately, carelessly hard his way with Dean, Dean finally began to submit. It was almost out of necessity. The sensations were beginning to feel way more good than painful, and Dean couldn’t handle it. Every thrust made his skin light up, and the way Castiel was dragging his cock up and down his walls made Dean want to die from pleasure. He slammed his fist on the floor, looking in completely agony, but he’d never felt anything so good in his life. He cursed himself for it, but at the same time he needed more.

He tried to shimmy out of Castiel’s grip so he could hump the floor, but Castiel didn’t let him. He pinned his free arm behind his back, forcing his chest to the floor, and pounded his ass with his hips. A shout died in Dean’s throat. The angle changing everything. Castiel was assaulting his prostate and Dean couldn’t buffer the sensation without use of his pelvic muscles. Dean was gone in seconds. He gasped and sputtered uselessly, helpless to stop the orgasm from being fucked out of him.
Dean moaned and keened on the floor, screwing up his expression. He came harder than he’d ever done in his life. The sensation seeped into his every nerve and, being unable to clench, it reverberated like a shock-wave, endless and severe, through every inch of his body. Dean was lost in pleasure.

Castiel didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. Dean’s ecstasy soon inverted, and Castiel began overstimulating him to the point of tears. Dean couldn’t even move now with his arm trapped behind his back. He wanted to thrash and break free, and yet, he was grateful he couldn’t. He was grateful that he had no choice to lay belly down and endure. It was his deepest, darkest fantasy. He groaned Castiel’s name as his knees and chest repeatedly scuffed the floor.

Castiel heard him that time. He reached down to the floor and grabbed Dean’s cock. Dean’s lurched, but couldn’t move. His head spin in submissive pleasure. Castiel’s hand glowed and Dean was suddenly on the verge of orgasm again. It shocked him and he moaned in surprise. It built up painfully slow, then burst in a fresh wave of ecstasy. Dean moaned shamelessly. Castiel reached down and squeezed Dean’s balls possessively, and it sent Dean even higher into ecstasy. He bucked his hips and pounded the floor as Castiel squeezed the cum out of his balls. Dean had to stop himself from shouting encouragements loud enough for the whole town to here.

Just as Dean thought he couldn’t possibly take any more, he felt Castiel shudder to a halt and drive his cock impossibly deeper. Castiel came with a feral groan and Dean’s grace orgasm finally stopped. Castiel grabbed his hips like reigns and fucked his orgasm into Dean’s ass.

He could barely see straight, but Dean chanced a glance over his shoulder. He had to know. When he saw Castiel coming, his heart flew up into his throat. He looked wild and undone. His lips were parted in a silent moan and his eyes were fluttered closed. He was sweating and glistening with grace. His tie was swept over his shoulder and he’d removed his coat at some point. His white collared shirt was sticking to his chest. Dean dropped his head on the floor and focused on not passing out.

Castiel’s orgasm felt prolonged. Maybe it was the magic, maybe it was just how angels came. Dean had no clue. He just lay there, aching and throbbing in both bliss and exhaustion, somewhere on the verge of consciousness.

Finally, he felt Castiel finish. He was sure of it, because not a second later Castiel collapsed on Dean’s back. It winded him, but Dean was still strong enough to not be crushed. Castiel was panting slowly now, and Dean was suddenly confronted with a new fear: if Castiel passed out, Dean wouldn’t be able to move. His only saving grace would be in Sam and Rowena walked in. Except… yeah, Castiel’s dick was still in his ass.

Luckily, Castiel came to quickly. He pulled out and got off of Dean, leaving Dean feeling winded and oddly empty. Between Castiel’s heavy breaths and pants, he heard a zip. If Castiel had enough presence of mind to cloth himself, Dean wondered if he was back to normal. Dean glanced sideways at him, barely seeing him. He still looked feral, but there was more intent to his gaze. His eyes weren’t glowing, either. Dean felt Castiel grab him and turn him on his back. Dean felt like he was made of cement. Castiel looked around and found his jeans and boots.

Dean dressed himself, deciding he needed to maintain what little dignity he had left. He sat up and winced. Everything ached. Castiel wasn’t speaking, and Dean was grateful. He didn’t think he was stable enough to respond. He got dressed lamely and collapsed on the ground again.


Dean looked at him. He knew that voice. It was Castiel. The Castiel. Or most of him, anyway.

“Yeah.” Dean breathed.

Castiel didn’t respond. So they sat there, panting and half staring at one another.



“Can you… I think I’m uh...” Dean shifted a little. He was definitely bleeding.

Castiel understood and reached over to Dean’s thigh. Dean felt his muscles return to normal and pain leave him. Dean felt weirdly heavier. He felt the cum seeping out of his ass disappear, too. His jeans were probably stained, though.


Castiel nodded numbly.

“What happened?” Castiel mumbled.

Dean sighed. He filled him in, but he found he wasn’t capable of much detail. The first pangs of guilt and humiliation were getting in the way, but Castiel seemed to recall it anyway. After a moment of quiet recollection, he tried speaking. Dean knew what he was going to say. Castiel had that sad look, and it made Dean’s heart flutter.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said brusquely, “You healed me. We’re good.”

Castiel stared at him hesitantly.

“Cas. I made that decision. Not you. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”

“I forgive you.” Castiel said in confusion.

“Great. Now c’mon, let’s get Sam and get out of dodge.”


Neither of them even tried explaining how Castiel had beaten the curse on his own. Sam eventually gave up and assumed it was because Castiel was an angel.

Rowena called bullshit. She arrived not ten minutes later and questioned all three of them about it. Luckily only Dean and Castiel had any real grasp of what the spell was, and they both feigned ignorance. Dean had a creeping suspicion that Rowena knew exactly what had happened, but she kept her lips pursed.

Dean was more concerned with what it was going to be like with Castiel. The ride home was quiet, but Sam was in the car after-all. At the bunker, Castiel was awkward and oblivious, but that was nothing new. A couple times, Dean caught himself considering telling Castiel the truth: that it had been the best sex of his life.

Dean turned in early. Sam didn’t say a word. He was too tired to keep asking the same questions over and over again. Dean was grateful.

That night, as Dean tossed and turned replaying the scene in his mind, he heard his door open. He ignored it, feigning deep sleep, until he felt a weight on his bed. Castiel’s breath was at his neck again. Dean glanced over his shoulder and didn’t say anything. Castiel slid his arms around Dean’s chest and buried his head in the crook of his neck. The guilt and humiliation that had accompanied him since the storage room gradually faded, replaced by Castiel’s gentle breathing and the warmth of his bare skin. Dean relented and closed his eyes.

“Come here,” he sighed, pulling Castiel close.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d be cuddling Castiel in his bed, but it felt too good to question. He felt Castiel relax in relief, and Dean couldn’t help but indulge that voice of his. He fell asleep in Castiel’s arms, dreaming for the first time in a long while.

Chapter Text

Ride ‘Em Cowboy


Sam was enjoying a quiet morning alone in the Men of Letters’ library. He had a book open at the table and was sipping a fresh cup of coffee when he heard the familiar whoosh of air that signaled Castiel.

“Morning, Cas.”

“Good morning, Sam.” Castiel came in and looked around, “Where is Dean?”

Sam shrugged, “No clue. Probably out getting breakfast burgers.”

Castiel deflated on the spot.

Sam had noticed Castiel acting weird lately. He suspected something was going on between him and Dean, besides all the sex. They’d been not so subtly hooking up for a while, so much so that Sam had become very good at going temporarily blind and deaf. He was so good, in fact, that it took him a few minutes to realize Castiel was still standing there, watching Sam work. Staring at him.

Sam cleared his throat, “You know you’re still here, right?”

His voice made Castiel jump. He glanced around, then slid into a chair and sighed hopelessly.“Sam. Can I ask you a question?”

“You just– yes,” Sam sighed, closing his book, “As long as it’s not about Dean.”

Castiel nodded solemnly, “It’s about Dean.”

Sam made a small noise in the back of his throat, “I, uh... I’m not sure I’m the best person to help you with that. I mean, I am his brother.” He gave him an apologetic smile.

“Exactly. You know him better than anyone,” Castiel pleaded. He had this look on his face that made Sam shift awkwardly in his seat. He was like a heartbroken puppy.

Finally Sam relented. “Alright... What’s up?”

“Thank you, Sam.” Castiel sighed in relief.

“Sure. Just don’t ask me about sex, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel agreed, then he took a deep breath. “When Dean I have intercourse...”

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Sometimes I can’t… I mean, it can be difficult...” He made some strange hand gestures then said, “...sometimes I can’t bring Dean to climax.”

“Uh! Yeah, okay. No.” Sam rose a hand, but Castiel carried on innocently.

“Usually Dean is the one penetrating, but recently I expressed interest in penetrating him.”

“Oh my god–”

“It’s just… Dean is so, so good at intercourse...”



Sam had turned a spectacular shade of pink, “Just…” he took a steadying breath, “it’s called sex, okay? And...”

“Right. Dean is very good at sex,” Castiel clarified, “I just wanted to make sure I was satisfying him in every way possible. But whenever I try having sex with him, I just can’t make him orgasm.”

Sam was stony faced.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m not as experienced as he is and I… I’m afraid I’m doing something wrong. You’re his brother – do you know if there’s any way I can...” he started making that hand gesture again and Sam cut him off abruptly.

“Ah! Ha...No. Sorry, Cas, but I just...” Sam was struggling to find the words. He cleared his throat twice then said, “I try to stay out of my brother’s love life, so I really don’t know what to tell you.”

Castiel finally stopped talking. He sunk into the chair and stared at his fingers in defeat.

Sam sighed. He felt like he’d just had his brain washed with bleach, but a part of him really wanted to help Cas, and by extension Dean. He took a calculating breath and tried to think of a solution that didn’t involve visualizing his brother with an angel dick up his… no. Just no.

“You know...” Sam sighed, “maybe...”

Castiel looked up hopefully.

“It might not be your fault, Cas.”

Castiel looked at him curiously. Sam knew there was no turning back now.

“Okay, look.” He shifted to face him, “When we were growing up, our dad was kind of… weird… about dating. We were hunters, you know? It wasn’t good to get attached. But still...” Sam realized he was approaching a subject Dean probably wouldn’t want him discussing with anyone, but the more he thought about it the more relevant it seemed, “Don’t tell Dean I told you about this.” He warned. When Castiel nodded, he continued, “When we were kids Dean was always hitting on everybody. Girls and boys. Well, one day I bought a friend over. I think I was nine. He was just a friend, but dad got suspicious of us and...”

Castiel was listening raptly. He thought he sensed discomfort in Sam, so he waited it out with him. Sam continued quickly enough.

“Well, let’s just say John’s generation wasn’t so keen on guys dating guys.”

“You mean, homosexuality? Yes, I’ve read about that.”

“Yeah.” Sam cleared his throat. He smiled a little at the thought of Castiel researching Dean like a case, “Anyway. Dad told me off in front of Dean. He obviously didn’t know Dean had been into guys since I could walk. I think he said something like, ‘I have enough to worry about with you boys being hunters. I don’t need you becoming fags’.” Sam sighed, “And that was that. I never brought home guys, and Dean… well, I never saw Dean with a guy again. Until you, of course.”

Castiel was silent. He considered this deeply, “Are you saying Dean is… repressed?”

Sam shrugged, “Yeah, maybe. I mean, it makes sense.”

Castiel frowned.

“Look, just make Dean feel safe and I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“I always carry protection.” Castiel gestured to the angel blade in his coat.

“No,” Sam bit back a smile, “I mean, safe in your relationship. Tell him how much you care about him, and then… well...” Sam looked awkward again, “you know.”

“Then I penetrate him.”

Sam sighed into his palm.

“Sorry. Have sex with him.”

Sam closed his eyes and mustered a rigid, “Yeah. Now can we please talk about something else?”

Castiel smiled in relief, “Yes. Of course. Thank you, Sam.” he looked around for something else to discuss while Sam reopened his book. He noticed the cover said “Occult Lore”, so Castiel said, “Is Dean into roleplay?”

Sam stared at him.


Despite their conversation, nothing seemed to have changed between Dean and Castiel. In an effort not to repeat their conversation ever again, Sam decided to give Castiel a little more direct help.

After a successful vengeful spirit hunt in Northern Texas, Sam suggested they stay an extra night to enjoy the Wild West town. Dean was surprised, but agreed instantly. It had been a while since the three of them had some fun away from the bunker. Plus, Dean would never turn down eating steak under a buffalo head.

Except, Sam then announced he was going to a bar. Alone. Dean eyed him suspiciously. He was used to Sam giving him and Castiel a wide berth, but he didn’t see any reason for it at the moment. Dean hadn’t gotten any action in days. But Dean let him go anyway. A few seconds later he was pounding on the bathroom door.

“C’mon Cas, let’s get dinner. I’m starving. Sam’s out playing with dice or whatever nerds do instead of getting laid...” The door opened and Dean’s voice faltered.

Castiel walked out dressed head to toe in leather and denim. He had an open leather vest exposing his broad chest and a loose Kentucky bowtie dangling off his collarbone. The bulge in his form fitting jeans was framed sinfully by leather chaps. His look was completed by tall leather boots, a large belt, and a cowboy hat shadowing his face. He had on a look that could only be described as Kilmer-esq.

“Howdy, pardner.”

Dean’s mouth went dry. It felt like his center of mass had shifted to his crotch, causing him to sway a little, “H...howdy.”

Castiel almost smiled. He had never seen Dean’s eyes so wide. He was utterly dumbfounded. When it became apparent that Dean was too tongue-tied to speak, Castiel spared him and pulled him into a smooth kiss. Castiel had taken a shot of whiskey (or six) for his nerves, and the flavor made Dean swoon. Castiel got a rush of confidence and opened the kiss. Then in his deepest, darkest voice, he rumbled against Dean’s lips, “What do you say we break in the this motel room?”

Dean gaped at him, then finally mustered three words: “Oh… hell yeah.” He grabbed Castiel and kissed him eagerly.

Castiel was elated. He helped Dean strip all the way to the bed, practically hearing a Spanish guitar and whip cracking in his head. Then Castiel pushed him buck-naked onto the mattress. Dean grinned. Castiel threw his hat on Dean’s chest and Dean put it on cheekily while he watched him get out of his jeans. He used a bit of grace and managed to keep the chaps still on, shamelessly showing off the slope of his hips and his fully erect cock.

Dean’s breath left him at once, “...fuck.”

Castiel smiled slight and kneeled on the bed. Dean had never been so turned on. Castiel was dressed only his vest, tie, and chaps as he slid over Dean. Despite his enthusiastic consent, he was shaking a little. Castiel kissed him soothingly, mutterings words of encouragement in his false accent. Dean had only ever ridden him before, so Castiel was surprised when Dean lay back and let him between his legs.

While they made out on the bed, Castiel used a little grace to lube and stretch Dean. He could tell by how handsy Dean was getting that he was more than okay with it. Finally, Castiel broke away from the kiss to line himself up. Once he was pressed against Dean’s wet entrance, he swatted Dean’s hand away from his own erection, earning a cocky little smirk from Dean, and held him like a saddle horn as he slowly pressed in.

Dean was used to this part, but it was still jarring. Castiel’s thick cock parted him with ease, although it still felt tight. Castiel groaned and Dean grunted, arching up for him to find the right angle. It felt good, but Dean couldn’t help but tense. Castiel fondled Dean’s cock to make him relax, allowing him to slide in the rest of the way.

Dean looked winded, so Castiel gave him a moment. He knew Dean didn’t like being coddled though, so it didn’t last long. Castiel began moving his hips and Dean groaned in approval.

Castiel ravaged him into the mattress, while Dean panted in pleasure. His hands were balled up in the headboard and his hat had fallen behind his head. It’s strings bounced on Dean’s glistening chest with every thrust.

Things were going better than usual. Dean was loose and groaning freely. Castiel would say things like “Giddyup, cowboy”, making Dean smirk and fuck back. His expression screwed up whenever Castiel found his sweet spot. Castiel could tell Dean felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Something was still off. Dean’s lips were parted and his head was tipped back like he was concentrating hard. Much too hard.

Castiel slowed down a little, making Dean look up. His green eyes were hazy with lust.

“Dean...” Castiel mumbled between thrusts, “You know I care about you, right?”

It took a few seconds for the words to navigate Dean’s pleasure-soaked brain. “Yeah, Cas.” he nodded distantly. He looked like he just wanted Castiel to keep going, but Castiel didn’t relent.

He let go of Dean’s cock and smoothed his hands up Dean’s body, nestling under his jaw and ears. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed in surprise. Castiel was amazed such a gentle touch could affect him so strongly.

“Dean, I want you to feel good.”

Dean half laughed, “I figured that out already.” He shifted his hips a little.

“No...” Castiel leaned down and kissed him gently. He was nearly laying on him, their bodies rolling together with each thrust. Dean trembled. “I mean, you should know that I truly, deeply, care about you. More than anyone.”

Dean stared up at him, winded, “That’s called love, Cas.”

Castiel nodded in understanding, “Then I love you.”

Dean stopped moving and just stared at him. A small smile parted his lips, “Rookie move, Cas. Saying I love you during sex,” he joked. But when Castiel’s expression didn’t change, Dean’s did. “You don’t mean that...”

“I do.” Castiel assured him. For a moment he feared he’d said something wrong. But then Dean’s expression softened.

“I love you, too,” he breathed.

Castiel smiled in relief, then took him into another kiss. Dean was still for a moment, but then he folded his arms around Castiel and kissed him back. Castiel resumed fucking him at once.

This time, Dean melted. He gasped out of the kiss and moaned as Castiel rocked his body so perfectly. Castiel had never heard anything so beautiful. He held him close, nearly brushing their noses together, just listening to Dean’s voice as he panted out his pleasure. When Dean started cursing, he knew he’d gotten the angle right. Within seconds, Dean was completely unraveled, taking everything Castiel had and wanting more. He was moaning out encouragements and undulating against the mattress.

“Dean… oh, Dean,” Castiel panted, “that’s it.” Dean had once told him he liked the sound of his voice, so Castiel tried something new, “Dean… I love you so much.”

Dean moaned, so Castiel kept talking to him. He whispered sweet nothings into his ear and made love to him, and Dean began to tense up in to time.


Castiel knew he was about to come, but in the next second, Dean was moving. For a wild moment Castiel thought he had changed his mind and was getting up, but instead he pushed Castiel onto his back and threw a leg over his leather chaps. Breathless with arousal, Castiel watched as Dean sank onto his cock and rode him like a bull.

They were both groaning in seconds. Dean looked like a god rolling his hips on Castiel. Inspired, Castiel fumbled for the hat and put it on Dean with a small smile. Dean returned the smile with his eyes then tossed his head back in absolute pleasure.

Castiel’s hands swept up Dean’s body, feeling his muscles shivering with pleasure, “Yeah, Dean. Yeah...”

Dean’s thighs were burning, but it just made his ecstasy spin faster. He was sweating and swallowing air, while Castiel told him he loved him over and over again. With a sudden jolt, Dean’s body seized up and he came on Castiel’s chest and neck with a soundless groan. His mouth flew open and his eyes slammed shut. Castiel could see the shock waves ripple through him like waves in a pond. He watched, dumbfounded, as Dean’s orgasm wrecked his body. Dean’s pace had changed. He rode Castiel nice and slow, working him like a stud, and Castiel grabbed his hips and came instantly, groaning in ecstasy.

Dean either didn’t care, or enjoyed being filled with Castiel’s angelic seed. He didn’t say a word until he collapsed on Castiel, their bodies completely spent and ringing with bliss.

“Oh my god...” Dean breathed. He’d never had an orgasm like it. He didn’t even think Castiel had touched his cock.

Castiel pulled him close, panting softly in his ear, “Call me Cas.” he put the accent back on.

Dean grinned.

Dean wasn’t always in the mood to cuddle, but that night there wasn’t an inch of space between the two of them. They lay together in the sweat and mess of their bliss, exhausted and carefree. Eventually Castiel cleaned them up with grace and rolled over to lay on Dean.

“How was that?” he asked.

Dean covered his eyes with his arm, but he couldn’t hide his grin, “Awesome, Cas. That was… awesome.”

Castiel beamed with pride, “We can do that whenever you like.”

“You’ll keep the clothes?” Dean eyed him.

Castiel nodded, “You can keep the hat.”

Dean smirked and checked to see if it was still on, “Ride ‘em cowboy.”

Castiel chuckled.

The peaceful silence went on a little too long, until Dean finally asked, “So, you really meant all that, huh?”

Castiel got up on his elbows to look at Dean, “Are you asking if I said I love you just so you would let me p… have sex with you?”

Dean looked at him hesitantly. Castiel’s pale, blue eyes were piercing in the dim light, “Yeah. I am.”

Castiel sighed and began playing with Dean’s fingers, “No, I didn’t. I meant it.” He said simply, weaving their fingers together.


“Did you mean it?”

Dean looked at him for a moment, “Yeah. I did.”

“Good.” Castiel leaned forward and kissed him gently.

Dean smiled and kissed him back.

“I love you, Dean.”

“I love you, too.”

Castiel needed to send Sam a gift basket. Dean just so happened to be thinking the same thing.

Chapter Text

Ramble On


One of the downsides of being friends with Castiel was that he rarely let himself go. He never laughed at Dean’s jokes, never fell for Sam’s puppy dog look, and he never reacted when Dean got a great head-shot. It was disappointing to say the least. He was just so brutally honest that unless something really struck him, you wouldn’t even know he was paying attention. That’s why if he actually laughed at movie Dean made him watch, you knew it was funny. And if he actually moaned while Dean was fucking him, well, then you knew it was damned good.

That’s why Dean loved blowing Cas. When he really wanted him to loosen up, all he had to do was wrap his lips around him. Something about it ruffled up all those angelic feathers and brought out the human in him. It was absolutely divine.

So there Dean was, on his knees against the Impala one moonlight night while they were supposed to be Sam’s lookout. Nothing had happened for fifteen whole minutes and Dean was growing restless.

Castiel protested the minute he gave him that ‘how ‘bout it?’ look, but the protests stopped once Dean sunk down. Dean had never been one to fall to his knees for someone, but it was worth it with Cas. Castiel shut up immediately and let him get to work, watching with anxious anticipation.

Dean took Castiel’s warm cock into his mouth, and within seconds Castiel was leaned back against the Impala’s passenger door, a sliver of hips and stomach visible above Dean’s head while Dean bobbed back and forth, nice and slow. Castiel’s breath hitched then slowed, and it soon succumbed to the rhythm of Dean’s lips.

The first moan made Dean feel like the king of the damned world. He’d found that spot in his mouth where he could suck with his tongue and swallow Castiel’s head a bit in his throat, and the sound came out of Cas like a reflex. Castiel shifted against the Impala, making her whine, but it was nothing compared to his own. Dean planted his palms on the cool exterior of his Baby and went all out.

Dean’s whole mouth was filling up with Castiel’s intoxicating, raw flavor, and his ears were ringing with Castiel’s steadily growing breaths. The slightest lick or flick of his tongue made Castiel’s breath hitch anew, but it always fell back to Dean’s rhythm.

The second moan meant Castiel was getting close. Dean had discovered that perfect pace that made Castiel fall apart molecule by molecule. A clumsy, broad hand found Dean’s head, and Dean nearly smiled as Castiel patted him like a dog. Dean ignored it and continued. With anyone else, he would have tied those hands up after that, but it was different with Castiel. It was like Castiel didn’t know what to do to show how good he felt. But Dean got the hint. He lavished him with suction like a damned porn star and pulled him deep into his throat whenever he could. He’d never been particularly experienced with this, but it was the amazing what the right motivation would do.

Deciding Castiel had earned a treat, he hummed around his cock and got a third moan out of him. Castiel’s hand shook and he gripped the Impala’s side mirror. Dean winced but he kept going. The sound of Castiel sprawling out on his Baby and gasping on air was worth a few hand prints. In fact, Dean loved sandwiching Cas between him and his Baby. There was something so right about it; like it was exactly where Castiel belonged. He hummed a little more, picking one of his favorite Led Zeppelin tunes, and he was confident that Castiel was finally enjoying the music as much as he did.

The fourth moan sent chills down Dean’s spine. He chanced a glance up and caught sight of Castiel’s chin and neck bathed in moonlight. His jaw was agape and his head was drooped back on the hood of the car. Dean imagined Heaven looking down on their angelic soldier, seeing him in the throws of shameless human pleasure. Dean gave a particularly possessive suck that made Castiel’s jaw quiver. He wanted all of Heaven to see them.

Castiel’s chest rose and fall with every suck and pet of Dean’s tongue, and soon he was sputtering Dean’s name.

“Dean… Dean...”

Dean pressed his nose into Castiel’s stomach and prayed his gag relax would hold. It did, and Castiel came in seconds, giving Dean his fifth and best moan. It was more like a grunt at first, but then it spiraled into that perfect, tight sound that only Dean could get out of him.

Dean sucked his cum right out of him while Castiel grabbed at Dean’s jacket, overcome with pleasure and pleading silently for it to never end. Once he’d sucked him dry, Dean eased him out of his mouth, a strand of cum and saliva glistening in the moonlight.

Castiel panted like he’d come out of water while Dean cleaned them both up. He wiped his mouth, re-buttoned Castiel’s pants, and gave his crotch a little pat that made Castiel jump then melt against Baby again. Dean stood up and smirked at him, his chest was bursting with pride. He patted Castiel’s shoulder and Castiel gave him a winded look.

“Thanks,” he rumbled.

“Anytime,” Dean winked at him.

“Clearly.” he glanced around, making sure the coast was still clear. Then he smiled at Dean. It was one of those rare, human things that Castiel only did for him.

Dean grinned.

They both rested against the Impala, catching their breath while they resumed keeping watch. Once Sam came back and they all piled into the Impala to go home, Dean put on a Led Zeppelin song and hummed along, loving the silent look of blue-eyed realization in his rear-view mirror.

Chapter Text

How To Train Your Demon


Dean was kneeling on the floor of a rustic cabin, counting his breaths slowly and carefully. An antique rug and coffee table had been pushed aside, leaving a wide, wooden space in the middle of the floor for Dean to be chained to. He was completely naked, with long red marks covering his back. The only other noticeable mark on his body was the Mark of Cain, stretched tight over the taut, strained muscle of his forearm. There was no fire lit in the fireplace, but he was sweating profusely.

Dean’s wrists were chained to the floor on either side of him, holding him down, while his hips and calves were tied with a series a ropes attached to metal rings on the floor, holding his knees apart with his ass resting on his heels. He could move his upper body if he really wanted to, but it didn’t do him much good. He was trapped.

Small sounds disrupted his counting, and he concentrated instead on the sharp footsteps circling him predatorily. He could only listen to them because, on top of everything else, he was blindfolded.

With a narrow rush of air and a whip-like sound, a new mark was added to Dean's back. His body lit up with the sensation, making Dean gasp and then whine futilely.

“You can do better than that.” A low, drawling voice coated the room. It was patient but severe, and it sent angry chills down Dean’s spine.

Another hit, and Dean bit back his surprise, instead trembling as the sensation hit him all at once and then spread nice and slow, licking down bound muscle and limb.

“Come on, Dean,” Cain goaded.

It wasn't pain that was making Dean writhe and pant, it was something much more unendurable, and Cain was forcing him to to do just that: endure it.

Cain rapped a rhythm against his palm with the narrow piece of wood and observed the marks on Dean’s back. The marks were red and harsh, but none of them had broken the skin. Dean’s back bore the appearance of a practiced wielder; one determined to pleasure, not punish. Yet, with a cane, a little of both was unavoidable.

“That’s it. Control it. Fight it!” Cain snarled.

Dean snarled back, and Cain rapped him with the rod again, making Dean growl deep in his throat and keen forward. It didn’t hurt anymore. In fact, it felt so good Dean wanted to cry, but he refused to let himself sink that low.

He remembered going to Cain for help controlling the Mark. Cain said it couldn’t be done. It was his own impulses that he needed to control so that the Mark couldn’t use them against him. But if Dean had known this was what Cain had in mind, would he have turned away?

Another crack, and Dean knew the answer was no.

Dean thrashed his head to the side, but he kept quiet. Cain smiled.

“Good, Dean,” Cain soothed. He swept a calloused hand over the marks on Dean’s back, making Dean shiver and tilt his head to the side. Cain removed his hand, and Dean felt filthy for enjoying it. He sucked in a breath and tried to control himself as Cain dragged the tip of the instrument down Dean’s raw, flushed back. He couldn’t help but squirm slightly at the fresh wave of sensations, and he felt Cain respond with a wooden slap to his shoulder.

“I said control it,” Cain criticized. “If you want to control the Mark, this is how you do it!”

“Right,” Dean panted, feeling self-conscious. “Because this is how Lucifer trained you, huh? Tied you naked to the floor?”

Cain observed him sharply, and for a moment Dean thought he crossed the line. Then Cain said, “Don’t make me gag you,” and continued pacing.

As tempted as he was to retort, he didn’t think he could handle a gag. This had already surpassed Dean’s darkest fantasies, and he wasn’t sure he could walk away from it whole if he lost all sense of control.

Cain dragged the tip of the instrument up and over Dean’s glistening shoulder. “You have no idea what Lucifer did to me. Consider yourself lucky.”

Dean was silent. He felt the cane drag over his collarbone as Cain walked around his front. Then the dragging, unnerving sensation vanished, replaced with another sharp slap, this time to Dean’s chest. Dean keened slightly in surprise.

Then he struck Dean’s chest, making Dean flinch and suck in a sharp breath. Cain proceeded to give Dean a series of lashes over his chest that were rhythmic and light, but were almost harder to endure than the hard, sharp smacks. Dean’s breathing was quickening, like the air in his lungs was being replaced by the rapid sensations. Just as he felt his lungs burn with the need to breathe, Cain stopped. Dean gasped for air. He could feel his skin throbbing in the absence of the cane.

As Dean’s senses came back to him, he realized that Cain had moved closer. He could feel his presence like a storm cloud looming over him. Dean became self-conscious again and tried to close his legs, but the ropes kept him open and vulnerable.

Out of the silence, Dean felt the cane again, this tapping a steady trail down his stomach. Dean somehow knew it was going to happen before it did and, sure enough, he felt the cane tap Dean’s bare erection. His whole body shivered like he’d been hit on the back. He bit his lips and swallowed a whine.

“Be still,” Cain commanded.

Dean began counting his breaths again. It had helped him endure the caning to his back, but he had no idea if it would help now. He could only try.


The tip of the cane dragged down Dean’s cock.


Cain tapped the swollen head.


The cane dropped and lifted Dean’s cock, like Cain was observing it.


Did Dean say four aloud? He couldn’t think straight. The cane was skimming Dean’s cock up and down, then dragged along his inner thigh.


Dean gasped as the cane hit his inner thigh, right along the crease of his pelvis. He tried to close his legs again, but the chains responded indifferently and kept him splayed for the next hit. Dean could hear the whoosh of air and braced himself for it, but it still took the breath out of him.

“Control it, Dean. Fight it!”

“I am!” Dean shouted hoarsely.

Cain slapped him again, and when Dean failed to keep quiet, Cain didn’t respond. He gave Dean a brief reprieve for which he was thankful.

His inner thighs were so sensitive. Even a light hit would have drawn a response out of him. How on Earth was he supposed to endure that? Not to mention his cock was so hard it was pushing out every thought in his head.

Cain seemed to change tactics then. When the cane returned it was lighter. It dragged along Dean’s muscular thigh, then back up towards his cock. Then it rubbed under Dean’s ass. Cain watched in satisfaction as Dean’s neck flushed. His breathing slowed deliberately, until Cain found what he was looking for. With a flick of his wrist, he tapped Dean’s balls smartly. Dean looked like he’d been electrocuted. The floor groaned under him and his restraints shook noisily.

“Control it,” Cain repeated.

Dean bit his lips, but the sensations were just pilling atop one another. Cain went from slapping Dean’s inner thighs, to caressing and smacking his balls, and it was driving Dean insane. He bit down hard enough to draw blood, then stopped, realizing Cain might gag him just to keep him from hurting himself.

One well-aimed hit had the cool wood landing perfectly on Dean’s exposed hole, and he groaned. He actually groaned. Dean’s heart sank in embarrassment and he shut up fast after that. He knew Cain was smiling.

Cain went from Dean’s balls to his hole without any rhythm whatsoever, denying Dean’s ability to prepare himself for either. It was torture. Dean wanted to rip the chains from the floor and touch himself, or get down on the floor and fuck something. After one particularly electrifying slap to his hole, Dean had a wild desire for Cain to slide the cane in and fuck him with the damned thing.

Yet, all of the stimulation produced the desired result: Dean was shaking and sweating, but he was silent. Suddenly, Cain stopped, and Dean was left breathless again.


Dean’s head drooped onto his chest, so Cain picked his chin up. He held him there, blindfolded and staring at nothing while Cain’s stormy eyes took in his form. “Silence does not equal acceptance. Just because you are quiet does not mean you are conquering your pain.”

“Then what do you want from me?” Dean slurred.

“I want you to fight. I want you to feel, and release your pain. I want you to let it hurt and then push it out! I want you to admit to what you want, and not let it control you!”

Another slap to Dean’s hole, and Dean tried to thrash, only managed to shove his face in Cain’s hand. Cain grabbed Dean by the jaw and slapped his stomach with more force than before.

Dean shouted in surprise, but Cain did it again.

“Tell me what you want! Say it!”

“Ab… Abaddon. Dead.”

Another slap. “Wrong! Tell me what you want.”

Dean tried to thrash, but Cain’s grip was as strong as the chains.

“I want to… to save Sam...”

Another slap, this time breaking the skin across Dean’s upper stomach. Dean growled in pain, feeling his cock twitch uncontrollably.


The cane found Dean’s erection and lifted it dangerously. Precome seeped onto the wood and Dean thrashed in apprehension. But it seemed the contact lifted some barrier in Dean’s mind and, without any hesitation, he breathed, “I want to come.”

Cain stared down at him, then gently smacked Dean’s cock, “Well done, Dean.”

Dean shuddered and groaned.

Cain slapped his cock with the rod again, watching Dean flush.

“Controlling it doesn’t mean denying it. It means conquering it,” Cain instructed, punctuating his words with his cane and watching Dean’s mind slowly deteriorate. “So you are going to endure this. I will let you come, but only after you’ve earned it.” Cain stopped slapping him so Dean could respond.

Dean was already a mess, but he collected himself enough to stammer, “”

“One hundred. I want you to count to hundred. If you mess up, you start over. You may come only after you’ve reached one hundred,” Cain said clearly.

Dean swallowed a rush of debilitating arousal and nodded.

“You may begin.”

Dean took a deep breath and counted,“One...,” then immediately shouted as the cane smacked his inner thigh, “Fuck!”

“Start over.”

Dean took another steadying breath. “One.” Cain slapped him again, but this time Dean gritted his teeth and said, “Two...” The cane moved down and resumed lightly slapped his cock, occasionally surprising him with a slap to his balls, or worse, his now pulsing hole. “T...three...”

Dean got to five before Cain really hit him hard again. He hit his stomach this time, making Dean keen forward. Cain grabbed his jaw and forced him to sit up straight. Dean didn’t resist, just kept counting blindly.

He got to ten, then stifled another shout as Cane left a red line on across his nipple. After a few more hits, both of Dean’s nipples were reddened and puckered. Dean cursed internally for feeling so good. His whole body was vibrating with heavy pleasure.

There were only two spots on Dean’s body that were not being lashed while Dean counted: Dean’s forearm, where the Mark of Cain lay, and the open cut across Dean’s upper stomach from where Cain punished him. Dean couldn’t feel either spots anymore. Every inch of his body felt like it was expanding, leaving him endlessly vulnerable to each hit in a vicious cycle of pleasure and pain.

Dean wasn’t sure how he’d gotten to fifty already. He wondered what would happen if he came before he reached one hundred. The thought distracted him, and an unexpected smack to the fleshy rounds of Dean’s ass made him lose count. He went backwards, realized it at once, and cut himself off and went silent. The cane stopped on his ass and drew away.

“Dean. Did I say to stop counting?”

Dean sat there in his frustration for a moment, then he understood what Cain wanted. He didn’t want silence, or frustration, he wanted Dean to move on with what he knew had to be done. With lips tight, he repeated, “One.”

Cain nodded in approval. “Very good.” As if to reward him, he dragged the cane over Dean’s nipples and down his side. It would have tickled had Dean not been so aroused. By then again, his skin was so tender that even a light touch felt overstimulating. It almost made Dean slip up again, but he got to five soon enough.

From five to thirty, Cain went all out. Dean’s cock and balls were stimulated constantly, and his inner thighs were red and throbbing. His stomach and chest hadn’t escaped the torment either, especially after Cain found a sweet spot between Dean’s cock and belly button that was just as sensitive as his inner thighs. That, too, bore the marks of the cane.

Once Dean got to fifty again, his endurance recharged. Cain must had sensed this, because he walked around Dean and smacked his ass from behind. He had better access to Dean’s hole this way, which Cain abused thoroughly. He went from fast, light taps to swift, solid smacks. The muscles pulsed in the aftershock and Dean moaned out the numbers.

Then Cain found his feet. He tested the rod against Dean’s stretched soles, making Dean jump. He had no idea he was so sensitive there. He almost lost count again, but he was at ninety already and he refused to let anything conquer him now. Cain dragged the tip of the rod over Dean’s soles, sending sparks of pleasure and pain to Dean’s leaking cock. Then he smacked the taut skin and Dean groaned through his teeth.


Cain smacked Dean’s hole and rubbed the cane back and forth over the quivering muscle.


He stalked around Dean, letting the rod drag over his hips and thighs.


He stopped in front of Dean and touched the rod to his leaking tip of his cock.

Dean lurched and trembled. “Ninety-eight.”

Cain couldn’t believe he’d overlooked this particular hotspot. He aimed the rod for Dean’s swollen cockhead and delivered several swift yet tantalizingly light taps to the slit. Dean’s chest swelled and gaped silently.

“Ninety-nine...” Dean shuddered.

Cain kept it up, repeatedly tapping Dean’s head so that his whole cock felt like it was vibrating from its most sensitive point. It felt so good it hurt, sending unbearable sparks up Dean’s entire body that paralyzed him in the beginnings of a deep orgasm.

“One hundred.”

Cain withdrew the rod and looked Dean over, a subtle smile lifting his beard. “Good, Dean. You did so well.”

Dean gasped like he’d been holding his breath and just hovered there on the edge of too perfect pleasure.

“What do you want, Dean?”

“I want to come.”

Cain’s gaze sharpened. He got down on one knee so that he could whisper directly to Dean, “Then come.”

Then he gave a swift flick to Dean’s cock-head and rubbed it slowly. Dean keened on the spot. His whole body lurched and his hips fought his restraints. Cain gripped his shoulder to steady him. “Control it, Dean. Master it.”

Dean grit his teeth and slammed his eyes shut to still himself while his orgasm burst out of him. He soaked the floor and painted the cane with his release, shaking violently. Cain kept tapping him, drawing his spasms out, and Dean just focused on Cain’s grip on his shoulder. He whined and groaned in his throat but didn’t move. His orgasm deepened even more for being restrained, both physically and by Cain’s command, and Dean nearly whited out from the force of it. A tear escaped his eyes and he couldn’t have cared less. He would have cried freely if he had the power, but his body was beyond control. Finally he shuddered to a halt and his body relaxed. Dean gasped like he’d come out of water.

“Good.” Cain released his shoulder and stood back to let Dean catch his breath.

While Cain’s heart would always belong to Colette, there was no denying the breathtaking beauty of Dean’s human body taut and glistening in the throes of pleasure, completely undone and at Cain’s mercy. There was nothing in Heaven or Hell like it, he was sure of it.

Cain removed the blindfold, then tipped Dean’s chin up with the end of the rod. Cain was smiling darkly. Dean knew he looked a mess, but he didn’t care. He felt like his body was hovering above his restraints, like a helium balloon trying to bob against the ceiling.

“I’m beginning to enjoy being proven wrong by you, Dean. You are worthy of this Mark.”

Dean didn’t know what he was talking about, and frankly he didn’t care.

“But perhaps I’ve pushed you too far for our first session.”

“First?” Dean swallowed thickly.

Cain removed himself and the rod from Dean, “Yes. I will continue teaching you to control yourself, if you wish.” He wiped the cane down with a rag before setting it down. “In return, the Mark’s lust will be easier to quell, as should your own.” Cain knelt down behind Dean and begin untying the bindings. “Don’t answer now. Think about it when you’ve recovered.”

“How thoughtful,” Dean managed.

The corner of Cain’s lips twitched. “Don’t act surprised. Lucifer invented consent.”

Dean didn’t want to think about that. Once he was freed, Cain helped him to the couch where Dean fumbled with his jeans for a moment before collapsing on his back. He seemed to regret it, then realized his front was just as bad and gave up.

“Did they name the cane after you?” Dean mumbled.

Cain smirked. “Of course they did.”

Dean dozed off with the responding smile lingering on his lips.

Cain put his living room back in order while Dean napped. After that, he covered Dean with a blanket and lit a small fire. Perhaps Dean could handle the Mark, unlike Cain. And if not, well, then he’d a damned fine Knight of Hell anyway. Cain returned to his office, satisfied that he’d see Dean again very soon.

Chapter Text

Natural Born Leader


Balthazar never took Castiel for a top. He was a great angel, sure. He was righteous and brave, and he’d even gained his own following to take on Raphael. But Balthazar was there when Castiel was first placed on Earth, and he knew that deep down Castiel was a follower, not a leader, but he was doing what he had to do to stop the other angels from starting the Apocalypse anew. He had been forced into dominance, the poor lovesick pup. Balthazar almost felt sorry for him; him and those monkeys he ran around with who were always stopping this crisis and the next. That’s why Balthazar, in his wildest dreams, would never have taken Castiel for a top.

Until Castiel fucked him like one.

In what would be a surprising but not unwelcome turn of events, Balthazar found himself bent over the edge of his four poster while Castiel fucked him with that glorious, Alpha-human Jimmy's cock. Sure, Jimmy was in Heaven, and now Balthazar was, too.

"Oh, bloody... hell... Cas!" Balthazar groaned as Castiel thrust him into the mattress.

The two of them were sweating and heaving in the dimly lit room. Castiel was holding Balthazar down by the shoulder, while Balthazar’s toned back glistened and writhed beneath Castiel's ever moving body. Castiel watched his cock glide in and out, his blue eyes dark with lust.

Castiel wasn't sure what came over him. Part of him had just wanted to shut Balthazar up, he was always flirting with him with that sly wit, but another part of Castiel was lonely and, frankly, pent up. So after Balthazar propositioned him for a snag or a shag or whatever the heaven he'd suggested, Castiel agreed.

Balthazar hadn't been expecting that answer, nor had he expected Castiel to immediately bend him over and fuck him like an Omega. But there Balthazar was, an Alpha angel, groaning like a slag and loving every second of it. Castiel was like a god, filling Balthazar with relentless, savage pleasure.

Balthazar had expected at most some light spanking and comfort sex. But this... this was absolutely filthy. Two of Heaven’s most wanted angels, not only working in secret but fucking in Balthazar’s five star hotel room where he usually took Omegas and Betas of his own, but never an Alpha. It just didn’t work that way with humans unfortunately, societal rules and all that, but Balthazar had to concede that having another Alpha’s cock in his ass was sweeter than sin. Especially when his knot began to inflate.

“Oh, Cas...” he groaned encouragingly, glancing over his shoulder for a peek at Castiel all wild and ruffled up. Castiel looked darker than ever. His wings were fully extended and huge, and he was panting open mouthed. Balthazar’s stomach dropped in arousal.

“You filthy animal,” Balthazar smirked.

Castiel grunted and Balthazar felt his growing knot begin to drag up and down his walls.

“Oh… that’s it, Cas. Come on, love. Knot me...”

Castiel was close. He reached down and grabbed Balthazar’s cock, and Balthazar keened. It was rare that he could knot without topping, but Castiel was fucking him so well that he’d been knotted for minutes, hovering on the edge of orgasm. Castiel grabbed him by the knot and fucked his own into Balthazar’s ass, and that was it for Balthazar. A shameless groan tumbled off his lips as he came against the side of the bed. His knot pulsed in Castiel’s broad hand, and in seconds Castiel’s own knot caught.

Castiel pushed his hips right up against Balthazar’s ass and came with a long moan, ramming Balthazar against the bed and squeezing his knot. It sent shivers of submissive pleasure through Balthazar at the height of his orgasm, and he knew he’d found his latest fetish: Castiel.

Soon, nothing but the sound of heavy panting filled the room. Castiel eased off of Balthazar, but he stayed inside him, still knotted.

"Cas, you kinky bastard...” Balthazar glanced over his shoulder in approval, “you're going to be the death of me.”

Castiel looked drunk. He gave a slight smirk and Balthazar smiled.

Once Castiel could safely pull out, he and Balthazar collapsed onto the bed together. And although it was very sexy having Castiel’s cum seeping out of his ass, Balthazar took care of their messes with a snap of his fingers.


“Yes, Cas?”

The stress that had left Castiel’s features was already finding its way back, and he asked in an exhausted voice, “Can I have those weapons now?”

Balthazar stared at him, then chuckled, shaking the bed slightly beside Castiel, “Yes, I think you’ve earned them.” He eyed him closely, then pulled him into a cuddle, “Just don’t tell me you only fucked me for that.”

Castiel gladly put his arm around Balthazar, “No. In fact, we’re doing that again.”

“Oh, absolutely!” he agreed.

Perhaps Castiel was a natural born leader after all.

Chapter Text

Whiskey and Spice




“Shit, goddamnit, asshole! Son of a bitch!”

“...Is that completely necessary?”

Dean glared wildly at Ketch, gripping his injured arm, “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come with me. That means you forfeit the right to bitch and moan.”

“Yes, you’ve got that covered nicely.”

Dean faked a laugh, “I’d like to see you get stabbed in the elbow with a meat thermometer and not swea…hey, don’t touch me...”

“Oh just shut up, will you?” Ketch sighed and pushed Dean into a chair.

Dean winced and shut his eyes, “Damn it hurts.”

“Mhm.” Ketch agreed, inspecting the end of the kitchen instrument protruding from Dean’s arm. It was sticking out of his ninth or tenth layer of flannel, Ketch assumed, so he couldn’t remove the clothing to tend to the wound. He’d just have to rip the blasted thing out. “Uh oh.”

“What? What?”

“It seems you’re running a fever.”

Dean glanced at the end of the thermometer sticking out of his elbow, then caught Ketch stifling a smirk, “You’re an asshole. You know that?”

“Yes. Now hold still.”

Dean knew what that meant. He grabbed the back of a chair just as Ketch gripped the thermometer and dislodged it from his elbow. He swore again, his veins raising in his hand.

“My, that’s quite an extensive vocabulary you’ve got.”

Dean ignored him. He slumped against the chair while Ketch rolled up the sleeve of his many shirts and began cleaning the wound at last. Dean couldn’t see his elbow or else he’d be doing it himself. He felt the sting of alcohol, then some prodding, then finally the stitches. He didn’t comment, mainly because he’d spent half the trip giving Ketch crap for delaying them to search for the med-kit that was now opened on the kitchen table.

When Dean thought he was finished, he glanced over at him, only to find Ketch stripping.

His brow furrowed, “What are you doing?”

Ketch ignored him. He was bare chested before he stopped. He straightened out his undershirt then began wrapping it around Dean’s arm, “I assume you’ll insist on driving back, so unless you want to bleed all over your...” he took a deep breath, “Baby... I suggest you pipe down.”

Dean smirked. He eyed Ketch up and down, a force of habit really, then asked, “Did you forget the bandages in your medkit?”

Ketch eyed him smartly, “It would seem so.”

Dean tilted his head, watching Ketch bandage his wound. Of course a jackass like Ketch had a nice body, Dean thought. He was firm and lean with plenty of scars, just like Dean liked, and he smelled of bergamot tea, deep woods, and something wilder like cardamom. Dean could tell it was adrenaline leftover from the fight. It figured, not only did Dean’s career alienate him from normal society, but so did his attraction towards other Alphas.

Just as Dean had gotten enough and was about to look away, he saw it. Among Ketch’s religious and esoteric tattoos, he had one that didn’t quite fit in. It was tucked away beneath the hem of his pants where the cardamom smell was the strongest, but Dean recognized it immediately. He looked up at Ketch in surprise, who was staring down at him with an odd, piercing expression.

“Alright. I’m driving,” he said flatly.


“You’re clearly delirious from blood loss. I am driving ‘Baby’ and you are going to rest.”

Dean felt a jolt of understanding: Ketch thought he was checking him out. Well, he was, but not really. Never really. “Woah, no no no… I just… that’s Sex Pistols.” Dean collected himself, “You have a Sex Pistols tattoo.”

Ketch’s expression tightened at once, but Dean’s loosened.

He grinned smugly, “Maybe you’re not a total douchebag after all.”

“Yes, well, there’s all sorts of things about me that you don’t know,” Ketch asserted.

Dean’s eyes fell back down to the tips of that scratchy, bold writing, backed by a Union Jack Flag faded into Ketch’s skin. His V lines pointed right to it, making Dean assume it stopped right above his cock. Probably the only place a stuffy British private school for serial killers wouldn’t look. It was actually kind of hot. Ketch’s skin was beaded with sweat from the fight, and Dean licked his lips like he was trying to taste the smell on the air.

Shit. Dean really was checking him out, now. He looked up at Ketch, once again finding that odd gaze staring back at him. Dean would have never known what it meant if not for that smell. What Dean thought was adrenaline from the fight was from something else entirely, and Dean was sure he reeked of it now, too.

High on pain and no longer giving a fuck, Dean reached out and pulled Ketch to him by the hem of his pants. Ketch made no attempts to resist, which was as good as a marriage proposal for him, so Dean closed the distance between them, planted his lips down, and tasted the sweat off of Ketch’s body at last.

The flavors burst in his brain and shot straight to his cock. He tasted like sex; pure, raw, Alpha sex. Dean’s knuckled grazed the tattoo, and he could see the rest of it down his trousers. Dean grabbed them with both hands and hurriedly unbuttoned them, eager to taste more. Ketch grabbed Dean’s short hair and leaned into him as Dean licked a wide path up his tattoo. Ketch shuddered and pushed Dean back against the chair, making it skid into the table.

The next few seconds were a haze. Dean was hit so hard by arousal that he forgot he’d been stabbed, and Ketch called him a few names that Dean would have to borrow Sam’s British phrasebook to look up. It didn’t really matter what he said, though. He tipped Dean’s head back onto the table and kissed him so hard he could taste the cardamom on the back of his tongue.

Ketch put his knee on the chair between Dean’s thighs, pressing it into Dean’s growing erection, and Dean ripped Ketch’s pants down.

He was right, the tattoo ended at his cock, which was every bit as perfect as the rest of him. Dean went down on him without a second thought, until he was burying his nose in the Sex Pistol’s logo and inhaling deep breaths of cardamom, woods, and bergamot.

Ketch groaned, “Oh bloody hell….”

Dean swallowed him down, sucking and petting his cock with his tongue. Ketch rolled his hips into that perfect, plush mouth, unable to get enough. A few quips about shutting Dean up crossed Ketch’s mind, but Dean was just too damned good at this and Ketch couldn’t string two words together. Having forgotten all about blood loss, he began face fucking him in the chair.

Dean gripped Ketch behind the thigh and by the ass, rising to the challenge with vigor. Dean prided himself on being an excellent fellator, and was rewarded with a series of not-so-Alpha sounds from Ketch. Dean undid his own pants and began stroking himself, unable to resist any longer.

As much as Dean wanted to know what Ketch’s cum tasted like, he didn’t want to be throat knotted, so when Ketch’s smell became stronger than ever, he grabbed his hips and pushed him off. Ketch stared down, pupils blown. Dean’s lips were swollen and his eyes were dark with promise.

“Ride you on the table?”

Ketch sucked in a breath, “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day.”

Dean grinned and stood up, backing Ketch into the table. They stripped and hefted themselves up onto it, knocking an assortment of things off that shattered and skidded across the kitchen floor. Neither of them cared.

Ketch had found them olive oil and, after some quick self-prep that Ketch was keen to watch, Dean was sliding down on his cock, thighs straining and body bursting with pleasure.

Dean and Ketch groaned in unison. Dean could have been looser, but he liked the pressure, and Ketch obviously did too. His eyes were closed and his jaw was agape, like he was trying to concentrate and failing. It was a good look for him.

Dean fucked himself on Ketch’s cock, eliciting all sorts of exclamations from him. Olive oil was leaking out of Dean and dripping down’s Ketch’s balls, but neither Alpha seemed to care about the mess. Ketch’s palms were under Dean’s ass and Dean’s hands were in the chandelier above his head as Dean rode him back and forth. Soon their combined smells made the kitchen reek of whiskey and spice.

At one point, Ketch bent his knees to fuck back, and Dean swore. He’d found his prostate and seemed determined to make Dean lose his mind with it. Dean cursed and sputtered, hardly aware of his surroundings while Ketch milked him with his cock.

“Fuck! Fuck yeah!” Dean cursed.


Dean reached down and clamped a sweaty hand over Ketch’s mouth, giving him a cocky look. Dean could bottom all day long, but he wasn’t taking Ketch’s sass now. Dean was no sub.

Something in his flushed, heated glare must have communicated that because, in the next moment, Ketch submitted. He kept his eyes on Dean but otherwise backed off, and Dean’s arousal soared. He thought of that young boy at boarding school getting a Sex Pistol tattoo in secret, acting like a punk but secretly wanting to get caught and bent over a desk to be paddled. Dean put both hands on the table and fucked Ketch like a true Alpha – dominating him with all his might while he rode that tattoo.

Ketch moaned his approval, and soon his knot begin to press into Dean. Dean’s body shook in anticipation. It was his deepest, darkest pleasure to be knotted, and he was going to make Ketch do it if it killed him.

Ketch gripped Dean’s thighs and thrust up into him, his expression screwing up in ecstasy. Dean’s head spun as he felt Ketch’s knot swell to its full size and immobilize him. It was overwhelming. Words of encouragement spilled off his swollen lips, and in the next second, Ketch came hard in his ass. Dean kept grinding on that tattoo and, with that knot in him, he came on Ketch’s chest and the table.

Dean’s hand flew down to stroke himself, making his own knot show from the sheer pleasure of it all. He hadn’t knotted without topping in years. He threw his head back and moaned. He felt Ketch’s hand come up to massage his knot, and he bit back a whimper. Ketch helped pump the last few drops from him, then they both melted beneath the shaking chandelier.


The table was covered with oil, cum, and blood by the time Dean and Ketch came to. Dean panted atop him, loving the sight of Ketch so uncharacteristically untidy, although he still looked much better than Dean. Dean was flushed and his hair was a mess. Ketch’s undershirt was soaked through with his blood, and he had a hickey on his chest he hadn’t noticed.

Dean looked around the room in mild interest, “Wow. That ghoul sure made a mess of this place, didn’t he?”

Ketch smirked and closed his eyes, “Oh yes. I’ll have to include that in my report.”

Dean chuckled to himself. It took a few minutes for Ketch’s knot to shrink enough to let Dean off. Once he was back on his feet, the pain in his elbow returned full force.


Ketch rose a brow.

“Shut it, Mr. Spock,” Dean snapped.

Ketch smiled in amusement.


They both got cleaned up and dressed, and began covering their tracks. They made sure the bodies were burned to ash in the backyard before heading back to the car. Ketch was shocked when Dean threw him the keys.

“If you hurt her… I’ll kill you,” he warned.

Ketch stared, “Glad to see you maintaining your professionalism after screwing a coworker.”

Dean held back a smile, “Oh, and I’m going to look up what a ‘slag’ is when we get back.”

“By all means, do.”


Dean and Ketch were back to normal in no time. They came into the bunker bickering about nothing, and Sam and Castiel seemed satisfied that everything had gone according to plan. Dean figured this would be the easiest affair to cover up, because Ketch was a total asshole, even if Dean couldn’t stop looking at where he knew that tattoo was beneath Ketch’s trousers. But then Sam got an odd look on his face as Dean neared him.

Dean and Ketch stopped in their tracks, still laden with their things.

“What?” Dean asked.

Castiel had noticed it, too. It looked like he was smelling something.

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it, his eyes locking with Dean's. He didn’t need to say a word.

Dean’s gaze hardened at Ketch, “Did you scent me?”

Ketch looked around furtively.

Dean’s expression was wild with disbelief.

“I might have…accidentally...”

Dean dropped his things, “Seriously?! You son of a bitch!”

Castiel looked confused. Sam would have been amused if not for the sudden, crippling nausea, “You two…really? You two?”

“Shut up, Sam!”

Ketch bit back a smirk, “It’s not the end of the world. In just a few short weeks...”

But Dean wasn’t listening. He looked mutinously around the room, then grabbed his things and stormed off to take the longest shower of his life.

Sam and Castiel stared at Ketch, who innocently resumed unpacking.

For the next few weeks, Ketch slipped in terms of endearment whenever talking to Dean, who maintained stony silence. Dean wasn’t mad, though. Not really. All in all, it seemed like a fair exchange. He might have even added a Sex Pistols CD to his collection.

Chapter Text

You’re Mine


The denizens of Hell were used to hearing the shouts and moans of the damned, but when those sounds came from the throne room they knew to steer clear. Nights like those always coincided with that asshole demon showing up, the brother of the Boy King of Hell.

Dean Winchester.

Dean had all the power and blood lust of Sam, but none of the style. Dean was all swagger and sarcasm, coated in whiskey and topped with a short temper. Why the King of Hell let his asshole of a brother stroll through whenever he pleased was beyond them.

It was probably because they were fucking.

Becoming a demon seemed to have heightened Dean’s sexual prowess, and he’d been taking it out on Sam. There was something so sinfully delicious about making his younger brother beg for release, especially once Sam had taken over Hell as their prodigal king. Sure, Sam was drinking more demon blood than ever these days, wielding power unlike any ever seen in Hell, but it only made the twisted dynamic between the brothers all the more satisfying. Sam loved every second of it.

While all of Hell bent to Sam’s will, Dean made Sam bend over for him.

So on that particular night, Sam found himself chained to the floor where his demons awaited judgment, prostrated before the throne of Hell. The objectification of it had his head spinning, especially while Dean sat in his throne watching him come undone.

Sam was completely naked with his arms chained above his head. His legs were in spreader bars and chained to metal rings in the stone floor. Sam could move his midsection but nothing else. He had a blindfold on, but no gag. Dean liked hearing his voice crack.


Dean was sat on throne chair, something he always swore he wouldn’t do, watching Sam writhe and shake on the floor. Dean had his phone in his hand with his thumb on a new app. It didn’t take long to convince Sam to try it, and the effect was instantaneous.

Sam had a silicon cock buried in his ass with a nub on his prostate, and the toy was vibrating with deadly precision. Dean upped the dial on his phone, and Sam cried out.

“Dean! Fuck!”

Dean smirked to himself.

Sam’s body was covered in love bites and red hand prints. His straining cock and balls were on displayed via a cock ring with demonic writing engraved in it. Sam wasn’t coming any time soon.

Sam thrashed and panted on the floor, shaking as the vibrator seemed to push and pull his body in every direction, sending wave after wave of arousal to his balls.

Dean couldn’t help himself. He moved from the throne to kneel over Sam. Sam’s breathing went shallow. He couldn’t see, but all of his senses were heightened by demon blood. Dean took advantage of it by tracing his thumb over Sam’s cockhead. Sam bucked and moaned.

“Swear at me all you want, Sammy. But you’re mine tonight,” Dean grinned. He bent over and just breathed on Sam’s cock, making it twitch. “And I am having way too much fun to let you cum.”

Sam sucked in a breath as Dean licked the beaded precum off of his cock. He tasted like heaven, ironically. Dean savored the flavor, then licked Sam nice and slow, making him shiver in response.


“I love it when you say my name,” Dean goaded him, continuing to tease him with his tongue.

Sam’s voice cracked when Dean planted his lips down and hummed. Dean’s lips amplified the feeling of the vibrator, and Sam’s muscles trembled. Dean smiled against Sam’s cockhead.

After a few minutes of tortuously slow, indulgent licking, Dean swallowed Sam’s cock into his mouth, making Sam’s expression melt.

Dean was the only one who had ever braved Sam’s entire cock at once. Sam was big, but Dean was fearless, so he choked himself on Sam’s cock, swallowing and sucking and knowing full well that Sammy couldn’t cum.

Sam just about lost his mind. He hovered on the edge of a mind numbing orgasm, tingling as the vibrator and Dean teased him endlessly. Then Dean reached down and pushed the vibrator in deeper.

Sam keened forward, but he was held down by his many restraints. It looked more like a violent twitch than an honest attempt at escape. Dean tasted Sam’s precum as he lazily played with the toy.

Having no way to see, every sudden turn and change in pattern sparked Sam’s arousal anew. He could only lay there and take it as Dean circled his stretched entrance with the wide base of the toy, dragging the shaft of it around in his body. Then he pulled it out a bit and slid it back in, spilling lube onto the floor. Sam moaned.

The toy had all sorts of strange ridges and markings on it, and Sam had never felt anything like it. Then Dean began fucking Sam with it, stirring it deeply in his body, and Sam shouted in bliss. He tried to hump Dean’s throat, but his restraints denied him once again. The sensation spiraled uncontrollably as a result, “Dean! Please! Let me come!”

Dean smiled internally. He popped off of Sam’s throbbing cock and began sucking and nibbling at his balls instead. Sam groaned. Dean pushed the dildo all the way it, then slapped the base, giving Sam a jolt of sensation.

“You know the rules, Sam,” Dean said, “You don’t come until I’ve had my fill.”

Sam shivered. This was the biggest toy yet, and it reached all the too-good-to-handle places. He listened as Dean pulled away from his cock and took something off the throne. Sam swallowed apprehensively.

In the next second, the vibrator shifted to its highest power, and the Sam felt his arousal flush out every other feeling in his body. It was so overwhelming that Sam almost went numb, but Dean kept striking the base, causing the sensations to reignite in Sam’s body. His mouth gaped silently at Dean, speechless with the force of his ecstasy.

Then Dean bent over and tore off Sam’s blindfold. Sam’s pupils were blown and he was tearing up. Dean experienced a wave of affection so rare that it had become a kink of its own, and he smiled at Sam indulgently.

“That’s it, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes fluttered and he gasped Dean’s name, his head swimming in submissive ecstasy.

Dean moved back to his side and resumed teasing his cock. He knew Sam very well. He knew how to play with all his most sensitive spots so that he could never rest. He knew exactly where to stroke and squeeze so that Sam dribbled precum like a fountain. At one point he dipped down and flattened his tongue between the dildo and Sam’s entrance, rimming him here and there. Sam’s whole body shook uncontrollably, and Dean smirked to himself. He knew Sam better than anyone.

He spent a while longer sucking his brother’s cock, relishing in all the sounds and moans he could draw out of him at will. He even flicked his tongue into Sam’s slit, knowing that it was the secret spot that made him freeze up with arousal.

Finally, he eased the vibration down. After being on such a high power, Sam didn’t even feel the dildo in him anymore. Dean had a feeling this would happen, so he popped off of Sam and pulled the toy out a bit. He slid it back in, fucking him with it, and Sam arched off the floor.

“Atta’ boy. Show me how good this feels,” Dean encouraged.

Sam’s body reacted more and more with each thrust, until Sam was tossing his head to the side and lifting his ass off the floor. Dean grabbed Sam’s cock while he fucked him, stroking it with renewed interest. Sam was so gorgeous like this, being fucked with a piece of silicon and loving every second of it. Sam panted out broken words of encouragement, and soon Dean couldn’t stand the toy having all the fun.

Dean tossed the toy aside, giving Sam a chance to catch his breath. He was sweating and shaking on the floor, his cock straining in need.

Sam knew what would happen next. Dean could see it in his eyes. Sam stared hungrily as Dean lubed himself up. Dean adjusted the spreader bar so that he could sit between Sam’s dripping, flushed thighs. Then he readjusted it so that Sam’s legs were spread wide. He slid a wedge under Sam’s lower back, forcing an arch in his spine. His hole was gaping slightly from the toy and leaking lube, and it had never looked so inviting. Dean stroked it with his fingers, then slid in just to feel his body.

Sam moaned as Dean fingered his prostate, forcing more precum out of his cock. Dean stroked him from the inside, fingering him just right so that Sam was out of his mind with lust.

“Dean…Dean, fuck me. I can’t take it,” Sam breathed.

“You can,” Dean countered, “I know you can.” Still, Dean pulled out and lined himself up at Sam’s sweet hole, “But you’re in luck. Because I’m going to fuck you anyway.”

Sam didn’t have time to register his relief. In the next second, Dean was pressing into his body and Sam was crying out in satisfaction.

“Yes! Oh f...fuck yes!”

Dean grinned breathlessly.

Once again, the throne room was filled with moans. Dean pushed in until he was flush against Sam’s ass, then he began fucking him powerfully.

The throne of Hell was nothing compared to this. Sam’s ass was Dean’s favorite sin, and he could have buried himself in it night and day. It was so tight despite the years of use, and it reacted perfectly to every thrust. Soon Dean was panting and cursing right along with Sam.

Dean raked his hands up Sam’s body, taking full advantage of his vulnerability. He groped his cock and balls, then scratched his fingernails down the underside of Sam’s thighs. Sam was in heaven.

“That’s it, Sammy. Take it. You can have Hell but, this?” Dean grabbed his cock once more, “This is mine. Every inch of you, it’s all mine. Let me hear it!”

“It’s yours, Dean! I’m yours,” Sam breathed.

Dean closed his eyes, getting a feral pleasure out of those words. They spurred him on, and soon he was grunting with every thrust, “I want you lubed and ready at all times. When you’re sitting on your throne, or giving orders, or drinking demon blood…I want you to know you’re mine.”

Sam nodded distractedly, but Dean knew it was sincere. He angled his cock into Sam’s prostate as if in reward, and Sam shouted in pleasure.

Dean’s hand left Sam’s cock at last. He found his pocket knife on the floor by his jeans and used it to cut into his own palm, still rocking his hips between Sam’s legs. Sam knew what he was doing, and he groaned in approval. Dean reached down and smeared his blood along the cock ring. It released Sam at last, and Sam felt his orgasm begin to rise dangerously.


“Keep talking, Sammy. Let me hear it. Let all of Hell hear it.”

Sam gasped and stammered Dean’s name, filling him with a feral pleasure. He fucked Sam with all his might and Sam came instantly. Dean pumped it out of him with his bloodied hand, watching heatedly as Sam lost his mind with bliss. Blood and lube mixed with Sam’s cum, and Dean was soon to follow. He came in Sam’s ass with a savage groan, thrusting until the very end.

Then, they were still. Their panting echoed throughout the throne room, sounding like a hundred people had joined them. Dean stroked Sam again, getting a sadistic pleasure out of watching him squirm in post-orgasm sensitivity. But Sam loved it. He trembled and jerked as Dean played with his slit and rubbed his glans.

Piece by piece, Dean began releasing Sam from his bonds. Although Sam wasn’t going anywhere. He felt like static; like he was floating through space with no mass, just throbbing vaguely with pleasure. He felt Dean pull him off the floor and into a spooning position sitting up against the throne. He could smell blood. As if reading Sam’s mind, Dean placed his palm over Sam’s mouth. Sam drank from his brother, and Dean rested his head on the seat on his throne.

“Atta boy, Sammy,” Dean murmured, closing his black eyes in bliss.

Chapter Text

Blueberry Pie


Dean loved everything about his brother. He loved the sound of his voice, the sweat on his brow, and the way his back arched while Dean fucked him in a dimly lit motel room.

Dean had always been the obedient one, not Sam. Sam was the rebel, the freethinker, but in the bedroom it was a different story. In bed, Dean was the dominant one, and he could make Sam bend for him as easily as he’d pick up a gun.

They were both Alphas sure, but they were also brothers, so as far as Sam and Dean were concerned they were going to Hell anyway. And honestly, it was just too sweet not to sin.

Dean had a fetish for Sam’s Alpha status. His woodsy smell, his taste of whiskey and blueberry pie, even his brutality. It was always aimed at the right person, but still, it was fucking hot. Sam was the perfect Alpha, and Dean loved making him submit.

That’s why one evening after a hunt Sam found himself handcuffed to the motel bed with his legs locked behind Dean's head, while Dean passionately had his way with him. Sam may have been the stronger one, but Dean had a talent for tying him up and filling him to the brim. It was like his ass was made for Dean’s cock.

"Fuck! Dean!" Sam sputtered.

The hunt had ended with an impressive kill on Sam’s part, and Dean found himself unable to keep his eyes off of him. Now Sam could barely keep his eyes open. Dean was like a god, rocking his body between Sam’s legs and fucking him right to heaven.


"Someone's begging for a gag tonight," Dean teased. Like all of his teases, it had a threat of truth, something that made Sam tremble in all the right places. Dean eyed Sam's thick cock and stroked it lazily, loving the sound of Sam's shameless moans.

Dean loved pinning him down and taking him from behind, but he also loved being in the front row and watching Sam fall apart. And that night he was falling apart beautifully. His whole body was shaking and sweating. His lips were parted wide and his hair was wild and unkempt. His cock was leaking precum onto his flat stomach, and he'd started to knot out of sheer pleasure. Dean was sure he looked a mess too, but nowhere near as much as his brother.

"You love this, don't you?" Dean goaded him. "You love taking your brother's cock. You love being knotted and bred like a bitch in heat," Dean breathed in satisfaction, playing with Sam's knot. It wasn’t often an Alpha could knot from bottoming alone, but Dean could get it out of Sam every time.

Sam groaned and wept precum onto his stomach, arching harder than ever.

"That's it. Come on, Sammy. You're my Alpha, aren’t you? My bitch." Dean groaned. "Say it."

"Yes...Alpha," Sam panted between thrusts, his expression screwed up in bliss, “I’m yours.”

Dean closed his eyes as those words shook him with pleasure. As a reward, he found Sam's sweet spot and fucked him hard. All Sam could do was let it wreck him. He was completely knotted in no time, hovering on the edge of orgasm and moaning in encouragement as Dean assaulted his prostate.

"Dean! Alpha! Oh f..."

Dean hefted Sam's legs up over his shoulder, leaned forward, and fucked him fast and deep. Sam shouted in bliss. Dean’s own knot began stroking Sam's walls, and within seconds it swelled up completely. Trapped in Sam’s ass, he pounded him into the bed with his hips.

"Sammy," Dean breathed, grasping him firmly by the knot, “come.”

Sam groaned and coated his chest with his release at those words. Dean came soon after, their expressions mirrors of shuddering ecstasy. Sam’s head fell back, overwhelmed with submissive pleasure as Dean’s knot stretched him from within. Dean threw his head back and rocked himself against Sam's spread hole.

He loved how Sam's knees shook on either side of his face, how his stomach spasmed. He loved how Sam tossed his head to the side like a stallion and pulled at his cuffs, trying to fuck himself a little more on Dean’s knot. He loved everything about his not-so-little brother.

When Dean had emptied himself completely into Sam, he collapsed and took him into a long, satisfied kiss. Sam kissed back weakly, barely moving his lips. He was always slow to recover after a round or two with Dean, but Dean loved that too. He felt a rush of pride for a job well done, and kissed Sam patiently, savoring his taste while his knot slowly deflated and Sam came around.

Dean loved everything about Sammy, and Sam loved everything about him. Even the mess they had to clean up in every motel room, and the occasional apocalypse. They wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world.