Genre: Slash, PWP
Pairing: Sam/Castiel (or Sassy, for those who are picky about this kind of thing)
Word Count: 1,624
Timeline: Spoilers through 6.13
Disclaimer: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke and the CW and their associated corporate identities
Contents include: See listings above as well as first time, oral sex, and feral!Sam with powers
Authors' notes: Written for several members of callcastiel but in particular kalliel after they wrote a number of surprise Valentine's Day comment fics which somehow managed to hit almost all of my major squicks. This is my revenge.
Summary: Castiel had warned Dean this might happen; now Castiel alone is there to deal with the consequences.
"Sam, it's me. Castiel. We're... friends. Can you remember that?"
Sam stood in the corner of the cabin, half-crouched behind a bed, his wild eyes and flared nostrils giving Castiel the answer that Sam himself was no longer capable of articulating.
Castiel had warned them that this would happen, if Sam picked at the wall—that if his tortured soul broke down it would take Sam's mind with it. Without his soul, Sam had at least been rational—too rational for Dean’s comfort, certainly, and not the Sam Winchester Castiel had called his friend, but he'd still been a functional (albeit sociopathic) human being. The consciousness in Sam’s body now was barely human, driven by pure animal instincts.
Fight or flight: it had never been a question in Castiel's mind which side Sam would fall on. And though the mind was shattered, it still had access to the psychic powers—only now it had no compunctions about using them, as Dean's unconscious body on the far side of the cabin could attest.
Castiel needed to make Sam see him as a friend, needed Sam to grant him the right to close contact. And Castiel had to do it quickly, before things got even more out of hand.
Castiel shrugged out of his coat and loosened his tie, then dropped to his knees. Keeping his eyes down, he crawled slowly toward Sam, unbuttoning his shirt as he moved. Castiel could hear Sam's breathing slowing, calming, but the tension remained palpable in the room, demonic power thick in the air. Castiel reached Sam's booted feet and slowly dropped onto his side, his fingers splayed and his arms lax. When Sam didn’t react, he rolled over further, exposing his neck and belly while he nuzzled his cheek against Sam's calves. He kept all of his movements slow and tentative, his eyes hooded in submission—after all, he was alert with senses this feral creature couldn't conceive of.
After a few moments, Sam sighed and sat down on the bed beside him. Castiel made what he hoped was a soothing croon, but even he was surprised when Sam grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to his knees. Castiel briefly thought of trying for the forehead knock-out, but a glance up through his eyelashes revealed that Sam was far from trusting yet, his shoulders growing tenser at the reflexive tensing of Castiel’s biceps.
Castiel immediately relaxed his muscles, letting his face fall into Sam's lap, his nose brushing against Sam's muscled thighs. Sam groaned. His grasp on Castiel's arms loosened slightly as Sam's thumbs began kneading the skin with small circles. Castiel felt a flare of relief as he leaned further forward, rubbing his nose and chin against the rough fly of Sam's jeans and the growing bulge beneath it.
Sam refused to release Castiel's arms even as his hips bucked up so hard that the nose of Castiel’s vessel should have broken. Instead, Sam grabbed his wrists firmly and pulled them to his crotch, squeezing Castiel's ribs hard with his knees to make his demands known. Castiel kept his head ducked down as he submitted wordlessly. He opened Sam's fly and tugged down his jeans and boxers, Sam lifting his hips in assistance. But when Castiel made to put his hand on the hard shaft, already slick with precome, Sam growled and wrenched Castiel's hands up almost hard enough to pull them out of the socket.
So that's how it was going to be. Fine. Castiel was aware of the human fondness for this act, and it certainly would persuade Sam of his own dominance. The only sign of hesitation he made was a brief lick of his own lips before he leaned down to suck Sam's cock into his mouth.
Sam grunted softly in pleasure. Castiel found remarkable satisfaction in the sound. The taste was different than any of the foods which Castiel had tried: a little salty and a bit sour. He hummed. Sam gave an even more satisfying groan, along with another spurt of salty fluid from the slit on the head. Sam kept his grip on Castiel's wrists with one hand, stroking Castiel's hair with the other, pushing his mouth further down along Sam's cock. Perhaps he didn't realize that the size of his penis made it a virtual anatomical impossibility for Castiel to fit the entire thing inside.
Still, Sam was relaxing, not only accepting Castiel into his personal space but making Castiel part of it, so Castiel hummed again, swiping his tongue around the pulsing shaft. He set about learning what else pleased Sam by listening to the moans spilling out of his mouth, by what sensations caused Sam's hips to piston up. He tried to remain pliant and non-threatening, pulling up a bit so that he could swirl the tip of his tongue around the crown. Dean had once referred to this sort of move as a tease. 'Check out that cocktease, dude, she's totally got that bastard wrapped around her finger now.' The mixed metaphor had confused Castiel at the time -- the bastard in question had been wrapped around her leg, not her finger—but now he believed he understood what Dean had been attempting to communicate.
Apparently Sam thought Castiel was teasing, too, because he growled again and grabbed Castiel's hair roughly, shoving Castiel's head back down while simultaneously thrusting his own hips up. Castiel slackened his throat and jaw and let himself go pliant once again, just running his tongue over the underside of Sam's dick while Sam fucked his face. It was strangely exciting, especially when he discovered that his earlier calculations had been inaccurate and that, by angling his throat just right, Sam could push his entire penis into Castiel's mouth.
Castiel groaned as he felt Sam's balls, hot and heavy, slap against his chin. It seemed an odd sensation to find enjoyable, but apparently Sam liked it too, because he kept Castiel pressed down in that position for so long that any human would have passed out for want of air. Castiel allowed his own muted moans to echo Sam's as the movement of Sam’s hips grew more erratic, right up until Castiel felt Sam's dick jerk wildly in the confines of his mouth.
Castiel wondered if the liquid spraying the back of his throat tasted different than the stuff that had oozed slowly. His curiosity was quickly satisfied when Sam pulled Castiel's head back hard: the taste was the same, the texture slightly thicker. Sam stood, pinning Castiel's arms back against the wall with one hand while he used the other to hold his still-spasming cock, directing the spray of his come over Castiel's face and chest. Semen burned when it got in his eyes, Castiel discovered, so he shut his eyes and ducked his head as best he could. Sam growled a warning when he tried to close his mouth, so Castiel let his jaw drop loose again.
A few moments after Castiel felt the last fresh drops strike his lower lip, Castiel was again pulled up by the wrists. This time Sam threw him onto the bed, and Castiel marveled anew at the fact that this manhandling was not entirely unpleasant. With his eyes still shut due to the come caking his eyelashes, Castiel didn't understand at first why Sam was rubbing his now limp penis against Castiel's lips. Castiel went with his body's instincts and licked at the flaccid cock, lapping up the stray strands of come that hadn't already made their way into or onto his body. Sam hummed his approval, petting at Castiel's hair.
Once the job was done, Sam flipped Castiel onto his stomach and collapsed on top of him. Castiel kept himself from tensing when Sam took the nape of his neck between his teeth, but as Sam peppered his back with the tender bites, Castiel realized that they were in fact a sign of affection. He even felt a fleeting moment's disappointment when Sam stopped, his chin tucked into the join of Castiel's neck and shoulder. That disappointment disappeared, however, when Sam sighed before dropping into sleep; a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a word.
Castiel waited for Sam's body to drop into true sleep before wriggling his arm free and, via a few contortions, pressing his fingers against Sam's forehead and applying a hefty dose of angelic anesthetic. Then and only then did he dare to roll Sam's bulk off of him and onto the other side of the bed, cock exposed, jeans still only down to his knees and boots left on. Castiel took a moment to pull the blankets of the bed over him. Only then did he realize what he himself must look like. He wiped his face, the drying come sticky and less pleasant when cool. Castiel felt exposed; he wanted his clothes back. He began searching the ground for his shirt.
Which is when he saw a very conscious Dean still sitting on the floor against the opposite wall. His jaw was slack. Castiel felt his cheeks redden—the reflexes of this body continued to defy him at every turn today.
At the sight of Castiel blushing, however, Dean regained some control over his own facial expression, quickly sliding into a wry grin. "So, who taught you that one? The plumber or the cable guy?"
Castiel didn't feel the need to dignify that with a response.
This entry was originally posted at http://moragmacpherson.dreamwidth.org/61