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"You ever think about how weird it is?" Sam's voice was flat, fingers dragging lazily down a page of some ancient text he wasn't really reading. The hotel bed creaked under his weight as he shifted, tossing the book aside. "All those years, all that devotion right there, ripe for the taking. And you never did a damn thing about it."
The air conditioner hummed, the only reply. Not that he expected one. The room smelled like cheap detergent and the faint, metallic tang of the demon blood still lingering under his skin. He rolled onto his back, staring at the water-stained ceiling. "I mean, I get it. Wings, halo, whole righteous fury thing. But come on, Castiel. Even saints have needs."
He licked his lips, letting his head loll to the side like his neck couldn’t be bothered to hold it up. The Bible on the nightstand was cracked open to Revelations, spine broken from years of Sam’s, not this version, the other Sam’s desperate thumbing through pages. Soulless Sam smirked. "Bet he prayed to you too, huh? Late nights, sweaty palms, all that guilt twisting him up inside. Bet he dreamed about it." He stretched his legs out, knocking over a half-empty whiskey bottle. "Bet he begged for it."
Silence. But Sam could feel it. The weight of something listening, the prickle of grace hovering just outside the edges of the room. He exhaled through his nose, slow, deliberate. "What's the point of being divine if you don’t let someone worship you right?"
He traced the condensation on the whiskey bottle with his thumb, smearing it into nothing. The sheets were rough against his bare arms, the kind of fabric that clung with static, cheap and thin enough he could feel every thread. The Sam who used to sleep here. The one with a soul, the one who ached probably laid awake nights imagining wings unfolding in the dark.
Sam rolled onto his stomach, chin propped on his hands now, staring at the empty space where Castiel would materialize if he ever stopped being such a coward. "He used to touch himself thinking about you," he said, voice dipping into something lower, crueler. "Quiet as he could, like you wouldn't hear. Like you weren't already everywhere, in his breath, in his blood." The mattress groaned as he shifted his hips, just enough to be obvious. "Funny, isn't it? All that holiness, and all you did was make him filthy."
The Bible's pages fluttered suddenly, though no wind touched them. Sam grinned. There. The air thickened, pressing against his skin like hands no, like feathers, like the brush of something vast and trembling just beyond the veil. He closed his eyes, leaning into the pressure. "You gonna keep pretending you don't want this? Or you finally gonna show him what he was praying for?"
The lamp flickered. Sam's pulse jumped. Not fear, not anticipation, just the mechanical thrill of a game played right. The whiskey bottle toppled off the nightstand, hitting the carpet with a dull thud. And then, like the answer to a prayer he never said, the scent of ozone filled the room.
Sam hummed low in his throat, rolling onto his side. "Bet you loved that, didn't you?" His fingers traced idle patterns on the mattress where Castiel's shadow should've been. "The way he'd bite his lip raw trying not to moan your name. How he'd choke on confession every time you looked at him too long." He exhaled, slow and filthy. "Tell me, angel—you ever jerk off to the sound of his guilt?"
Silence. But the Bible's pages kept trembling.
Sam chuckled when Castiel appeared, sudden and solid against the wallpaper, shoulders rigid, tie askew. "If only he knew that's exactly what you wanted." The angel's glare could've incinerated cities. "I want you to quit praying to me all these obscenities."
Sam ran his eyes up and down Castiel's body, lingering on the way his coat strained at the shoulders. "I'll stop when you stop hiding from me." He swung his legs off the bed, bare feet pressing into the tacky carpet. five steps, and he was close enough to taste the static clinging to Castiel's skin. "So, Castiel..." He twirled the angel's tie between his fingers, felt the hitch in his breath. "Gonna make every version of me mad wanting you?"
Sam shoved him into the wall. The plaster cracked. Castiel's wings burst through the veil. Not fully, just flashes of darkness at the edges of reality, feathers brushing Sam's wrists like shackles.
"Or," Sam murmured, mouth hovering over the pulse in Castiel's throat, "have you finally came to your senses?"
The angel shuddered. Sam smelled lightning, felt grace searing through fabric where their hips aligned. Castiel's hand fisted in his hair. "You're repugnant."
Sam grinned. "And you're hard." He ground forward, relishing the choked noise it tore from Castiel's throat. "Guess we both lose."
The kiss was less a meeting of mouths and more a battlefield. Sam biting at Castiel's lower lip, tasting grace like burnt honey, while the angel's hands clawed against his hips, nails digging in hard enough to bruise and tear. He didn't care. Let Castiel mark him up. Let him try to pretend this was anything but surrender.
The belt buckle clattered to the floor, teeth marks gleaming in the dim light. Sam remembered the way Castiel had looked. Wild-eyed, desperate while searching for something in him that wasn't there anymore. Now, he'd give the angel something better to chase.
Sam shoved Castiel's pants down, fingers digging into the lean muscle of his thighs, spreading him wider. The angel's breath hitched, wings flickering in and out of existence, casting jagged shadows across the wallpaper. "Your precious Sammy," Sam murmured against the shell of Castiel's ear, "would've cried just seeing you like this." He palmed himself, slow, deliberate, letting Castiel feel the heat of him through thin cotton. "Bet he'd beg to taste you first. Make it holy."
Castiel snarled, hands fisting in Sam's hair. Not pulling him away, dragging him closer. Their foreheads knocked together, breath mingling, too-hot and electric. "You don't know what you're doing."
Sam laughed, low and dark. "Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing." He rocked forward, letting their cocks brush, reveling in the way Castiel's whole body jerked. "And so do you."
The angel's grace sparked, ozone sharp, filling the room with the scent of thunderstorms and something deeper, older. The musk of feathers and sweat. Sam licked a stripe up Castiel's throat, tasting salt and power. "Tell me to stop," he dared, fingers tracing the crease of Castiel's thigh.
Castiel's hips stuttered. His silence was answer enough. Sam smirked. "Didn't think so."
The angel's legs trembled as Sam hooked his fingers under Castiel's knees, pushing them apart. The wallpaper groaned under Castiel's fingernails, shredding in uneven gashes where he clawed for purchase. Sam lined up, the head of his cock pressing against Castiel's entrance, hot and slick with pre-cum. "Christ," he hissed, pushing in slow. Too slow, the drag of it maddening and Castiel arched off the wall with a choked noise, wings flaring out behind him like shattered stained glass.
"Fuck," Sam groaned, forehead dropping onto Castiel's shoulder. "You're tight as hell." The angel's thighs clenched around his hips, muscles twitching under Sam's grip. He didn't stop, though, kept pushing until he was buried to the hilt, until Castiel's ragged panting filled the space between them, until the scent of ozone and sweat clung to the back of Sam's throat.
Castiel's fingers dug into Sam's shoulders hard enough to bruise, blunt nails biting through fabric. Sam hissed through his teeth, pulling out halfway before slamming back in, harder this time, relishing the way Castiel's breath stuttered. The wall shuddered under his palm, plaster dust raining onto the carpet.
Sam's hips snapped forward again, and Castiel's head thudded back against the wall, eyes rolling shut. His wings, flickering in and out of the veil, left scorch marks on the wallpaper where they brushed against it. "Still wanna pretend," Sam panted, dragging his teeth along Castiel's jugular, "that you don't like this?"
Castiel's hips jerked, a silent plea for more, and Sam obliged, driving into him with a rhythm that had the angel's grace sparking wild and uncontrolled around them. The air smelled like burnt feathers and whiskey, like sweat and something electric, something holy unraveling at the seams.
Sam laughed, breathless, against Castiel's throat. "Look at you," he murmured, pressing his thumb into the jut of Castiel's hipbone. "All that divinity, and you're just—" Another thrust, harder, deeper, and Castiel's fingers spasmed against Sam's back. "—falling apart for me."
Castiel's answering growl vibrated against Sam's lips, more threat than protest, and Sam grinned. Drinking in the way the angel's resolve cracked with every roll of his hips. "Yeah," he breathed, "just like that."
The angel's thighs trembled around Sam's waist, slick with sweat where skin met skin. Sam could taste the salt of it on his tongue, mixed with something sharper. Grace leaking through the seams of Castiel's vessel, sparking against Sam's teeth when he bit down again. Harder this time, right over the pulse point. Castiel arched off the wall with a sound that was a snarl turned into a sob, nails raking down Sam's back like damnation.
Sam didn't slow. Couldn't if he tried. Not with Castiel clenching around him like a vice, not with the way the angel's moans hitched higher, fractured into something desperate. Sam fucked into him with a rhythm that left the wallpaper cracking further behind Castiel's shoulders, each thrust punctuated by the wet slap of skin and the ragged hitch of Castiel's breath.
He knew the second Castiel came. Felt it in the way his whole body seized, grace erupting like a supernova between them. The angel's shout was raw, unhinged, wings bursting fully into the physical plane for one blinding second before vanishing again. Sam watched, transfixed, as Castiel's head tipped back, throat working around silent pleas, come streaking untouched across his stomach.
That was it. That was what undid him. The sight of an angel, this angel, falling apart under his hands, because of him. Sam's hips stuttered, rhythm fracturing as his own orgasm ripped through him, white-hot and relentless. He buried his face in the crook of Castiel's neck, teeth sinking into skin as he spilled inside him, pulse hammering in his ears loud enough to drown out everything but Castiel's ragged breathing.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Sam's fingers ached where they dug into Castiel's hips, the angel's legs still locked around his waist. The air reeked of sex and burnt feathers, the carpet littered with plaster dust and torn pages from the Bible. Sam exhaled, slow, against Castiel's sweat-damp collar. "Still repugnant?" he murmured, lips brushing skin.
Castiel's hand fisted in his hair. His voice was wrecked. "Worse."
Sam laughed, low and satisfied. "Liar."
He watched Castiel's lips twitch, the way his gaze flickered to the wetness still smeared across his own stomach. The angel's fingers flexed against the wall like he wanted to hide it, to wipe it away but didn't. Couldn't. Sam grinned. "Never once did Sam imagine you'd cum untouched, especially by him."
Castiel's eyes darted away, a flicker of something raw in them. Shame? Hunger? The angel swallowed hard, throat working around nothing, and Sam chuckled, dark and pleased. "Wonder how many times I can get you to do that."
He grabbed Castiel's wrist, tugging him toward the rickety wooden table in the corner. The angel stumbled, still loose-limbed and dazed, his coat hanging half off one shoulder. Sam shoved him backward, letting Castiel catch himself on the edge just as his knees buckled. "Let's find out, shall we?"
The table groaned under their combined weight. Castiel's fingers scrabbled at the laminate surface, blunt nails leaving fresh scratches in the cheap wood. Sam crowded between his legs, pressing in until their hips aligned again, until Castiel could feel every inch of him still hard against his thigh. The angel shuddered, wings flickering at the edges of reality. Not fully formed, just fractured glimpses of darkness.
Sam leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Castiel's ear. "Still think you're righteous?" He rolled his hips, slow, deliberate, relishing the way Castiel's breath hitched. "Or do you just like pretending you are?"
Castiel's jaw clenched. His hands fisted in Sam's shirt, twisting the fabric tight enough to tear. But he didn't push him away. Didn't say stop. Just stared up at him with eyes gone dark as damnation, grace sparking wild and untamed under his skin.
Sam smirked. "Yeah," he murmured, dragging his teeth along Castiel's collarbone. "Thought so."
The table creaked ominously as he lifted Castiel's hips, sliding him back until his shoulders hit the wood. The angel gasped, legs falling open like surrender, like invitation. Sam didn't hesitate. Didn't ask. Just pressed back in, slick and easy, watching the way Castiel's spine arched off the table, wings shuddering into full view for one blinding second before vanishing again.
Sam groaned, fingers digging bruises into Castiel's thighs. "Fuck," he breathed, dragging his cock out tortuously slow before slamming back in. "You take me so good."
Castiel's answering moan was ragged, broken, his hands scrabbling for stability that wasn't there on the table's edge. Sam leaned over him, caging him in, and licked a stripe up his throat. "Say it," he demanded, thrusting harder. "Say you want this."
Castiel's lips parted. His silence was louder than any confession.
Sam laughed, breathless, and fucked it out of him anyway.
The table groaned under their combined weight, laminate peeling where Castiel's nails clawed deep, creating a new groove. Sam watched, transfixed, as the angel's vessel strained under the force of his thrusts. The way tendons stood out in his neck, the way sweat pooled in the hollow of his throat. "Sammy had wasted so much time fantasizing about worshipping you," Sam taunted, dragging his teeth along Castiel's jugular. "Ready to start a new religion just for your cock." He snapped his hips forward, brutal, relishing the choked noise it tore from Castiel's throat. "And he had it so wrong."
Castiel's grace sparked, wild and untamed, scorching the air between them. Sam could taste it on his tongue. The burnt honey and thunderstorms as he leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of Castiel's ear. "You wanted to be fucked," he murmured, fingers digging bruises into the angel's hips, "and taken apart to the point that your vessel couldn't handle it."
The table legs screeched against the floor as Castiel arched off the surface, wings bursting into the physical plane for one blinding second before vanishing again. Sam grinned, ruthless, and fucked him harder, chasing the way Castiel's resolve fractured with every thrust. The angel's thighs trembled around his waist, slick with sweat and pre-cum, his breath coming in ragged, punched-out gasps.
Sam could feel it. The exact moment Castiel's control snapped. The way his grace flared, searing through the room like a wildfire, the way his fingers dug into Sam's back hard enough to draw blood. He didn't stop, didn't slow, just leaned in closer, lips brushing Castiel's parted ones. "There it is," Sam breathed, triumphant. "That's what you really prayed for, isn't it?"
Castiel's answering groan was raw, unhinged, his hips stuttering as Sam drove into him again, harder, deeper, until the table shuddered beneath them and the angel's thighs clenched tight around his waist. Sam watched, mesmerized, as Castiel came untouched for the second time that night, grace sparking like shattered stained glass across his skin.
He didn't pull out. Didn't give him a chance to recover. Just fucked him through it, ruthless, until Castiel's moans turned ragged, until the angel's fingers twisted in his hair like damnation and salvation all at once.
Sam smirked, breathless, and chased his own release with the angel's name on his lips like a prayer.
Sam's nails dug into Castiel as he came, dragging crescent moons of pressure down the angel's back. Probably enough to draw blood if Castiel was human and not an ancient being desperately trying to keep himself composed inside a flimsy vessel. Sam stayed pressed against Castiel, still deep inside him, relishing the way the angel's thighs twitched around his waist, the way his grace sparked erratic and wild where their skin touched. "You know there's a perk to the soulless never sleeping," Sam said, lips brushing Castiel's sweat-damp temple. "How many times do you think you'll cum before sunrise?"
Castiel shuddered, wings flickering at the edges of reality like fractured glass. His fingers tightened in Sam's hair. Pulling him closer as he turned his face into the crook of Sam's neck. His breath was ragged, uneven, his voice raw when he finally spoke. "You're insufferable."
Sam laughed, low and dark, and rolled his hips just to feel Castiel tense around him again. "And you're still hard." He traced the curve of Castiel's ear with his tongue, tasting salt and ozone. "Tell me, angel—" Another slow thrust, deliberate, savoring the way Castiel's breath hitched. "—how many centuries has it been since someone fucked you like this?"
Castiel's nails bit into Sam's shoulders, blunt and bruising. The table groaned under their weight, one leg wobbling dangerously as Sam shifted, angling deeper. Castiel's thighs trembled, his grace sparking wild where Sam's fingers dug into his hips. "Not—" His voice fractured as Sam thrust in again, hard enough to knock the Bible off the table. "Not centuries."
Sam stilled, pulse jumping at the admission. The room smelled like sex and scorched feathers, the air thick with the weight of something unspoken. He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Castiel's ear. "Just Sam, then?" he murmured, voice dropping into something darker. "Just him—just me—and you still walked away every time?"
Castiel's silence was answer enough.
Sam grinned, ruthless, and dragged his teeth along the angel's throat. "Guess I'll just have to make up for lost time."