Shifting Rivalry - 2/2

[coragyps]

Back to Part 1

Sam woke up on his belly, face pressed into the pillows by a strong hand in his hair. Dean was already inside of him, deep and thick, not thrusting yet, just churning carefully, buried deep.

Sam managed a muffled groan.

There had been many, many mornings that had started the same way; it was a mystery how Dean always seemed to manage it without waking him up. Sometimes he was taken in the middle of the night (Dean was a capricious sleeper) and Sam dreamed through most of it, even his own orgasm. He’d wake up to half-remembered pleasure and wet shorts.

Dean tugged his hips up and sunk himself in a little deeper. “I love it like this,” commented Dean absently. “You open up so beautifully for me when you’re asleep. It’s like your body just knows what it needs.”

Apparently what it needed was to be face down with his legs spread wide, Dean’s cock rearranging his guts.

“Dean,” Sam complained, muffled by the pillow.

“Mmm, so good, sweetheart,” Dean crooned, picking up the pace a little, his hips slapping against the plush of Sam’s ass. “Love you, just like this.”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t help moaning in pleasure at a nice, solid stroke that lit him up from in the inside.

“Comatose, you mean?” he said dryly, turning his face to talk.

“You know I love you awake too,” said Dean consolingly, pinching his thigh. Then the hand in his hair nudged his face back into the pillow. “Mm, feel like I broke into your house to steal shit, found you sleeping here all alone.”

Sam was already hard from where he was being rubbed against the mattress cover, and he had to admit there was charm to this kind of sex, where no action was required - or even possible - on his end. He was pinned and helpless under the weight of Dean’s body, the pillowcase mashed against his open mouth, and it was almost like being forced.

Certainly it would be difficult to communicate it if he wanted to stop. But after so many years, Dean knew what he wanted better than he did himself.

“That’s right,” Dean soothed, “just gotta lie there like my sweet little sex doll, letting me use this nice clean hole of yours.”

“Dean?”

It was Cas, his gravelly voice unforgettable.

Sam hissed, squirmed, but couldn’t get leverage to lift his head out of the pillowcase. Had to endure being held down by Dean’s hand between his shoulder blades.

“Just a minute, Cas,” said Dean casually, as if it was not the first word the man had spoken. He thrust a little faster. “Mm. Sammy, tighten up.” His hand came down heavy on the side of Sam’s hip and his right buttock, a bright pop of pain that flared a second after the clap of sound. Sam automatically clenched down in surprise, gasping at the sudden magnitude of sensation, the reminder that he was impaled so deep on Dean’s dick.

It was Sunday: Dean was mixing up the routine. Usually Sam was spanked on Fridays, in punishment for whatever infractions (perceived or imagined) he’d committed that week. Dean kept a tally on the corner of the white board in the kitchen that also kept their grocery list.

The spanking bench was their hall table. Dean had screwed an iron ring in the back of it, hidden against the wall, to tie down Sam’s wrists.

They’d had some really good sex on that bench.

“That’s good,” said Dean, “again.” Spanking rhythmically, he soon had Sam squirming and whimpering, in front of God and everyone.

Dean ground down and came with a satisfied grunt, depositing his whole load of hot, sticky cum deep inside Sam. Sam wondered if Cas was watching, couldn’t tell. He’d been conditioned to come after Dean did, and the wet, softening pressure in his ass was an irresistible cue. He came, his cries muffled in the fabric, wondering if Cas was staring at him, naked and helpless like this.

“Good, good boy,” Dean soothed. “So perfect for me, just like that.” He pulled out as Sam whimpered, overstimulated and exposed, his wet, puffy asshole on display until Dean pushed his thighs together. Sam didn’t move at all.

Then he was covered up by the sheets, his hair combed back from his face. Dean gently turned his head so he could breathe. His cheek rested in the wet spot where his mouth had been, and his soft dick was buried in the cooling load of come on the sheets.

He still didn’t move.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” said Dean.

“Yes.” Cas’ voice was low and rough. But he had always talked that way, Sam recalled now.

“He’s much better behaved when he’s gotten a nice load fucked into his ass, that’s for sure,” Dean chuckled. “All of a sudden my evil hellion is a just a sweet little puppy, rolling over to bare his belly and beg for treats!”

Sam might have rolled his eyes if he could have moved.

“Guess I wore him out.” A big hand stroked over Sam’s hair, down the nape of his neck. It cupped Sam’s eyes, pressing them closed. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Dean murmured. “It’s still early.”

When Sam woke up next, there was a thick, slippery set of beads, eased all the way up inside him, and he had no idea how they’d gotten up there.

-

A few hours had passed by the time Sam padded down the hallway to the kitchen, following the smell of bacon. Under the light streaming in through the kitchen windows, Dean was standing over the stove, humming quietly to himself. Sam watched him fondly.

“Hey,” he said.

Dean turned around, a smile on his face. “Hey Sleeping Beauty, look who’s up! Come sit down, I’ll make you a plate.”

Obediently Sam sat, and was presented with an omelet made with tomatoes and green peppers. He hid a smile. Although Dean didn’t like vegetables, he always made them for Sam.

“There’s bacon too,” said Dean, coming to sit next to Sam with a full platter. “Here, open up Sammy.” Delicately, he fed Sam a crispy strip.

“Can I start?” asked Sam, chewing appreciatively. It was another rule; he asked permission before anything other than water passed his lips.

“Sure, tuck in while it’s hot. Nobody likes cold eggs.” Dean went to go pour him a glass of orange juice, and Sam dug into to the omelet, pausing only to sip from the cup Dean held to his lips. “S’it good?”

“Yeah, it’s real good. Thanks.”

They ate in silence - well, Sam ate, while Dean nursed a cup of coffee.

“Where’s Cas?” asked Sam finally.

“Taking a nap. He sat up for a couple of hours. I got some scrambled eggs into him.”

“He say anything else?”

Dean shook his head. “He's a little clearer though. Stopped putting the Cas in casatonic.”

“It's catatonic,” Sam corrected.

Dean took a sip of coffee. “It’s funnier my way.”

“You’re just lucky he wasn’t doubly traumatized by the sight of us fucking,” Sam grumbled. Not like they hadn’t had public sex before, but that was years ago. And frankly it would be nice to be consulted on these things some times.

“Nah, a good deep-dicking is a thing of beauty. Anyway, I figured it was important for him to watch.”

“ … Uh, why?”

“I don't know what happened to him, but he’s gun-shy,” said Dean. “I’ve never seen him like this; even when I’m right there with him, he’s tense; fighting himself, resisting me. He’s always submitted so perfectly, freely and fully, like he was just made that way, you know? Like he needs orders just to function.”

Sam frowned. He understood that Dean and Cas had a long history together, but that didn’t mean he liked to think about it. “Okay?”

“I figure he needs to be reminded how good it can be. Maybe if he sees us together, witnesses for himself that nothing bad happens … maybe it’ll help him come back to himself.”

At least that was a goal Sam could get behind. He needed Cas on the road to recovery soon, because there was only room for one sub in a relationship, and Sam was it.

“What’s your plan for today?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I figure we let him sleep. He’s exhausted and he needs it. Let's just keep it low-key, veg out on the couch and watch the game?”

Sam nodded. Low-key sounded good to him. Curling up on the couch sounded good too.

“I think it starts in an hour,” said Dean. His fingers drifted over Sam's neck. “Wanna dry-hump until we get off, then fall asleep?”

Sam was pretty sure he had accepted this offer before, but now he wrinkled his face up, pouting. “No.”

“You wanna get fucked again?”

Sam shook his head.

“D’you want to fuck me instead?” asked Dean, flexible as always. “That sounds pretty good to me, riding my big strong stallion, huh?”

“No,” said Sam, shaking his head. “I just want - I wanna lay down with you for a while, okay?” He stared up into Dean’s beautiful face. “Can we just lay there, and you pet my hair and call me sweetheart?”

“Oh, you want to cuddle,” said Dean, eyes twinkling. “Like a girl. Is that what you’re saying?”

Sam flushed.

“C’mon, Sammy, say it. Tell me what you want and you can have it.”

“I want to cuddle like a girl,” said Sam flatly.

“My pretty pretty princess,” said Dean, with affection. “Ok, get on the couch, we’ll see what we can do. Jeez, you’d think this would be the advantage of banging a dude.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and left his dirty plate on the table as vengeance. He walked into the other room and pretended not to feel guilty hearing Dean quietly clean up in the kitchen.

He guessed he was getting another check on the spanking tally.

But Dean didn’t seem annoyed when he joined him, just shifting Sam over on the couch so he could spoon up behind him and turn on the TV. Sam didn’t know why Dean bothered trying to be the Big Spoon when Sam had a good four inches on him, but he didn’t argue.

Dean muted the commercials and started rubbing Sam’s chest.

Sam sighed in pleasure. “Mm. Feels good.”

Dean tweaked his nipple. “You like that, babygirl?”

“Mm-hmm …” Sam bit his lip. “Hey Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“Is the girl stuff - the panties and things - is that because you want a woman sometimes?”

“What? Jeez, I haven’t thought about pussy in years,” said Dean sounding offended. “Is that what you think?”

“Then … why do you always call me girly nicknames?”

“Because I like how it embarrasses you!” said Dean. “And maybe” - now it was his turn to flush - “okay, maybe I like the thought of you as my little housewife, you know? Waiting for me at home, and - depending on me to provide for you, take care of you.”

Sam blinked. “Is that what you want?”

“No, it’s just a fantasy, like when I dress you in a robe and make you call me Doctor Sexy. I like you just the way you are. You think I’d trade your giant donkey dick for anything?”

“You just ... like to picture me as your wife.”

“Yeah, I wanna give you a strand of pearls and deny you the right to vote.” Dean kissed his shoulder. “Whattaya say, Sammy, you want to be my little woman, and we can play mommy and daddy to little baby Cas?”

Sam smiled, but felt a flash of fear in his heart.

He was Dean’s baby, him - not Cas. Him.

“You know Dean, if you need something else to care for and order around, we can get you a dog.” Belatedly, he recalled that Dean had always been weirdly uneasy around dogs. “Or a cat,” he amended.

“You know I'm allergic to cats,” Dean pointed out.

“Okay, a - chinchilla, or a baby bunny, I don't care, you get my point!”

“Your point that we should take Cas back to the store and replace him with a rabbit? Yeah, I got that point loud and clear.” Dean sounded amused. “Just be patient a little longer, Sammy, okay? He has no one to turn to now, and he’s always depended on a strong Dom to look after him.”

“Yeah well, maybe he needs to grow out of it.”

Dean put his hand under Sam’s chin and lifted it up. “Tell me what else Cas needs,” he said.

Sam bit his tongue. Shit. “I didn’t mean …” Sure, sometimes Sam chafed under the restrictions of being a 24/7 sub, but honestly he wouldn’t trade it for anything. And he definitely wasn’t planning on outgrowing it.

“Dean?” Cas’ voice was still gravelly, but familiar.

Dean launched off the couch. “Angel! You feeling better?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

Now Sam could see more of the man he remembered in the dark-haired man wearing his pajamas. He had shaved, or Dean had shaved him. His back was straight, arms linked behind his back; he had always been oddly formal, for a man who had once co starred in a priest-kink porno with a Dom named Balthazar.

“Hey Cas, good to see you’re feeling better,” said Sam.

Cas nodded gravely in Sam’s direction.

“Come take a spot on the couch!” said Dean, obviously itching to get a better look at his friend up close. Sam rolled his eyes at further evidence of Dean’s need to nurture.

Cas obediently shuffled over to the couch and sat down - right between Dean and Sam, Sam couldn’t help but notice.

Dean immediately planted a hand on his forehead. “You’re cold,” he fretted. “You probably shouldn’t be up and around so soon. Here, we’ll get you warmed up in no time.” He stripped off his own sweatshirt and wrapped it swiftly around Cas until he was bundled like a burrito, tucking in the edges.

Cas accepted the attention, leaning thankfully into Dean's side. Sam realized that he would have felt compelled to insist he was fine.

“There we go,” Dean soothed, combing a hand through Cas’ messy hair, straightening the strands a little. “S’that feel better?”

Cas nodded quietly, biting at the dry skin of his lower lip.

“Cas, can you tell us what happened?” asked Sam, still hoping there might be someone they could call or, you know, maybe someplace else he could go.

Cas just blinked at him owlishly.

“I mean, do you remember how you ended up here?”

“I took a bus,” said Cas.

“Uh, yeah, that’s not really what I meant … ”

“After it stopped running, I walked,” said Cas guilelessly. “It was a long way." He was still nibbling on the skin of his lip.

“Stop that,” said Dean, thumbing it gently until Cas let it slip from between his teeth.

“So, Cas - ”

“Sammy, I don’t think he’s up to answering questions right now. Look, angel, we’re about to watch the game here, how does that sound?”

Sam wanted to protest, but Dean’s hand settled on the back of his neck and squeezed.

“Good.” Cas let his head rest against the pillows. “That sounds … good.”

Dean’s un-muted the tv and settled in. His fingers slid up to Sam’s scalp, scritching softly. Sam didn’t care about either team playing and couldn’t have told you the score. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on nothing but his Dom’s touch.

Cas was feeling better. Soon he’d be leaving, and everything would go back to the way it was.

At halftime, Dean got up to fetch beers. Sam opened his eyes and realized Cas had fallen asleep, curled into the couch cushions. He had shrugged out of the sweatshirt, which was bunched up in his lap. One of his hands slid down into the heat of the place where Dean had been sitting.

“Cas, you’re going to have to move when he comes back,” said Sam. “Cas?” He leaned over to touch the shorter man’s shoulder.

Cas blinked around in confusion - and then, before Sam had time to react, hauled off and punched him across the cheek.

“Cas!” yelled Dean from the doorway. Cas struggled as Dean ran to wrap both arms around his body, trapping his hands at his sides. “Shit, you okay Sammy?”

“Yeah,” said Sam, touching his chin gingerly. “He’s really strong.”

“Yeah, for a little guy, he’s got freaky weird strength,” Dean agreed. “Cas. Cas! Look at me. It’s Dean, okay? Cas!”

Cas stopped fighting back and stared up into Dean’s face. “Dean?” He whispered, uncertain.

Dean didn’t release him. “Yeah, it’s me. And you just popped Sammy. See?” Dean turned them around to face Sam, whose chin was already throbbing.

“I … apologize, Samuel,” said Cas formally, although he seemed bewildered. He sagged heavily in Dean’s arms, who adjusted quickly to take his weight.

“Alright, hey, here we go, let’s get you to the couch, okay. Sammy, we’ll get you some ice for that, stop touching it. Shshsh, here, Cas, just - sit here for a second, okay?” Dean patted his arm and got him sitting. “With me, Sammy.”

Dazedly Sam followed him into the kitchen, where he got a strong hand under his chin, lifting it up to examine him critically.

“I don’t think he cracked your jaw or anything,” Dean murmured to himself, his fingers stroking lightly over the mark. “Here, we’ll keep the swelling down.” He pulled a bag of frozen corn out of the freezer and broke it up in his hands, before gently smoothing it over the area of the bruise.

Sam sighed in relief at the coolness, and the tender touch, although part of him instinctively tried to resist the coddling … if he gave an inch, he'd end up tucked into bed being spoon-fed soup for the next two weeks.

“Does it hurt?” Dean asked, guiding Sam down to rest on his shoulder, his other hand rubbing Sam’s back. Yeah, Sam was going to have to man up or get ready for the Chicken and Stars.

“It’s alright,” he said, muffled in flannel. “I pulled my head back as he hit me, it was more of a glancing blow.” Which was true, but still - ow. The little man packed a hell of a punch.

“Everyone’s going to assume I’m a wife-beater,” Dean teased gently, combing Sam’s hair back.

“…You get that I’m not actually your wife, right?”

Dean smirked and kissed his head, handing him the ice. “C’mon, June. Let’s go see about the Beav.”

He led them back to the living room, where Cas was waiting, practically vibrating with anxiety. “Sam,” he started brokenly, “I am so - I really - ”

Dean snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor in front of the couch. “Knees, Cas.”

Cas dropped so quickly Sam was afraid he would hurt himself.

“Sam, you mad at Cas?”

“No,” said Sam, shaking his head. “It was an accident.”

“That’s right, it was. You sit here on the couch.” Dean steered him in front of Cas, who shifted to face him, looking up at Sam’s bruised face.

“I apologize, nonetheless,” he said, as Dean went to look for the medicine chest.

There was no doubting his sincerity; he looked like he was about to cry. Almost without thinking about it, Sam found himself patting Cas’ head the way Dean did. “It’s fine,” he said gently. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dean came back with a proper ice pack and a bottle of painkillers. Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, it’s fine.”

“Careful, Sammy, or you’ll earn yourself a spanking tally for not letting me take care of you properly.”

Unenthusiastically, Sam opened his mouth for the pills Dean fed him, then the rim of the glass full of water to wash them down.

Sam glanced down and caught sight of Cas’ face, watching hungrily as Dean fussed. “What were you thinking about, Cas?” he wanted to know. “Were you having a bad dream?”

“I … made a mistake,” Cas whispered. He ducked his head, dropping his eyes to the carpet.

“Hey, you don’t have to talk about it, angel,” said Dean, dropping a reassuring hand on Cas’ disheveled hair.

“Unless you want to talk about it,” Sam put it, shooting Dean a glare; his dom was being over-protective again.

Cas bit his lip and said nothing.

“Alright, enough. You’re still tired, angel. I want you to go back to the guest room and lay down for a little while. I’ll come back to check on you in a bit, okay?”

Cas got to his feet. “Yes Dean.”

Dean waited until he was out of earshot. “Maybe I should drive him to a hotel for the night,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “There could be more where that came from.”

A part of Sam wanted to agree. But he couldn’t help remembering Cas’ horrified expression when he realized what he’d done, and the abject relief when he’d realized it was Dean, holding him back.

“No,” said Sam reluctantly. “It was just an accident. It’ll be fine.”

Dean lifted Sam’s face with one hand and kissed his forehead.

“Such a sweet boy,” he murmured, gently stroking Sam’s swollen cheek. “How’d I get so lucky, huh?”

Sam turned his sore face into Dean’s soft shirt and relaxed, letting himself feel safe and loved in his arms the way no one else could ever make him feel.

He was stupid to be jealous of Cas. Dean didn’t want or need anyone but him.

-

Over the next few days Cas displayed gradual but continuous improvement. He had never been a very chatty guy, that Sam could recall, but he graduated to full sentences and even traces of dry humor. Dean stopped feeling the need to take his pulse and his temperature every hour. He willingly ate whatever Dean put in front of him and slept when he was told to, although he still rarely made it through the whole night.

He still didn’t talk about what had happened to him.

No matter how Sam phrased the question, Cas never seemed to answer. “I made a mistake,” was the most he would say, before clamming up completely.

Dean, of course, wouldn’t push him.

“Don’t you think it’s important that he talk about it?” demanded Sam.

“Not everybody needs to talks through their feelings, Sammy. He’ll tell us if he wants to, when he’s ready.”

Eventually Dean had to go back to work, leaving Sam on Cas-duty during the day. (Although Sam liked to imagine that someday he’d get a tenure position and finally make enough money to take care of Dean, for once - at the moment, they needed the income from the shop).

“Just sit with him,” said Dean, straightening his tie in the morning. “Ask him if he needs anything, and if he doesn’t, let him be. Okay?”

Sam was half asleep, and couldn’t manage more than a vague grumble in reply.

“Good boy,” said Dean, kissing his forehead goodbye. He turned down the lights as he left.

All day Sam tried to follow his directions. Even though it meant that after he was gently but firmly rebuffed, he ended up re-grading term papers three times just to resist the urge to pry. It was a relief when he finally heard the familiar rumble of Dean's car in the driveway.

“Sammy, I’m home!” Dean slammed the back door with what sounded like a foot.

“How was work, dear?” Sam met him in the living room. And maybe he had a gin-and-tonic waiting, just to complete the fantasy.

Dean kissed his cheek, sliding a hand back to fondle Sam’s backside. “Mmm, better now. How’d it go with the Beaver?”

“I’m not entirely sure why you call me that,” said Cas, appearing seemingly out of nowhere in the doorway. Solemnly he accepted his own kiss on the cheek. “According to my research, it is a term for both a North American fur-bearing mammal, or a euphemism for the female anatomy. I am neither.”

“Yeah, I’m guessing your research didn’t cover pop culture,” said Dean. “Look, Sammy made cocktails!” The distraction worked; Cas turned to examine the set of rocks glasses on the table, and Dean rolled his eyes fondly behind his back. He slid closer to Sam and drew him in, kissing his neck. “So, how’d you two make out?”

“Fine,” said Sam uncertainly.

“Fine,” echoed Cas.

Dean shook his head. “I’m so convinced.” He finished his drink in a swallow and set the glass on the table. “Who wants to go mow the grass, eh? I’m thinking this guy!” he indicated himself with two thumbs, turning back to the door.

“You’re tired,” said Cas, studying Dean’s expression. “Why don’t you rest here, and Sam and I will make you something to eat first.”

“No, angel, that’s alright - ” Dean started to say.

“Dean, you’ve been pushing yourself too far. You have been worried about me, and worried about Sam. We are both taken care of. Now you need to rest.” Cas laid his hand gently on Dean’s arm, expression sincere. “Yes?”

Dean’s eyes darted to Sam, assessing him, and then smiled weakly. “I guess if you wanted to fix me a slice of pie …”

“We’ll see. Come, Sam.” Cas ushered him into the kitchen.

“Wow,” said Sam, when they were out of the room. “That was amazing! Dean never lets me tell him what to do.”

“He wants to be strong for you,” said Cas absently, studying the kitchen cabinets. “But Dean has always taken on too much. While we are both here, making requirements of him, we will have to be attentive to the needs he won’t acknowledge.” Calmly, he began assembling a sandwich.

Sam stared at him, open-mouthed. Okay, maybe even after all these years, he still looked at Dean with some natural hero worship. But that was how Dean wanted him to feel, he was sure. And here was Cas cutting through all of that, like he saw Dean as … just a man.

“It is a little easier for me,” Cas added quietly, seeming to read Sam’s mind. “Dean has often been my Dom, but he is also my friend. We have been through a lot together.”

The truth was, Sam didn’t think much about Dean’s life before they had met. Before seemed almost like it was some kind of dream, like it wasn’t real. Only Dean was real, the best thing that ever happened to him.

“I … don’t really know how to feel about that,” Sam admitted.

Cas nodded, looking down at the plate of food he was holding. “I understand.”

“C’mon,” said Sam, pulling out another pair of plates, because Dean wouldn't want to eat alone. “Let’s not hold up dinner.”

-

Dean demolished the sandwich and demanded another cocktail, which Sam refused to make unless he finished all the water first.

“Ordered about in my own home,” he grumbled, complying. “This is how it’s gonna be, huh, two against one?”

“So ill-used,” Sam teased, slicing another wedge of lime.

Cas was examining the bottle of liquor.

“You’re looking a lot brighter today, angel,” said Dean. “You got some perk back in your step?”

“I’m feeling much improved,” said Cas.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“In fact, I have been thinking about my next steps, as it were.”

Dean took a sip. “Oh yeah?” His voice was carefully neutral.

“What are you thinking?” Sam piped up.

“I want to go someplace where there are mountains, and lots of trees. Is there a bus from here to a place like that, do you think?”

“Uh, nowhere close to Kansas, no,” said Sam.

“Cas, don’t feel like you need to leave before you’re ready,” Dean interjected. “You know you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want.”

“Thank you. But I should not intrude longer than I already have.”

“It’s not an intrusion, Cas. You’re our friend. We like having you here.”

Cas shook his head. “Nonetheless. It is it time for me to be moving on.”

“Well you’re not going anywhere until I’m confident you’ll be taken care of properly,” said Dean.

“I’m not your responsibility, Dean,” said Cas quietly.

Dean slammed an open hand down on the table, causing both Sam and Cas to jump “You damn sure are,” said Dean. “Maybe you’re not my sub, but you come to me cracked open and hollowed out, you gotta put up with me telling you what to do.”

Cas closed his eyes. “I can’t - I don’t … know how to do this anymore,” he admitted.

“What do you mean, angel?”

Cas got up abruptly and walked to the bar. He poured himself a glass of gin, no tonic, and drank it straight.

“Woah, easy there, Cas,” said Sam, standing up to stop him.

“I have an excellent tolerance,” Cas assured him. He poured another few inches of liquid into his throat like a shot.

“He does,” Dean confirmed. “I told you he was Russian. But I think that’s enough for now, eh Kasperov? Put down the bottle and talk to us.”

Obediently Cas set down the bottle, which now contained nothing but the dregs.

“You wanna tell me the problem?”

“I’m a terrible sub,” said Cas dully.

“Aw, angel,” said Dean, standing up and walking to him. “Hey, look at me. You’re a great sub, okay? Any Dom would be lucky to have you. You just need to get back up on the, uh, saddle.”

“You do not understand. I have not submitted to anyone since the two of you left the scene.”

Sam sucked in a breath. Five years? He couldn’t even get through 24 hours without getting twitchy.

“What happened, angel?”

“There was no one I could trust,” said Cas, his voice small. “For so long I searched for a Dom worthy of my submission, but I found only - lies and deceit.”

Sam knew he’d been lucky to find Dean, but sometimes he forgot what a miracle it really was.

“I decided I didn’t need to submit anymore. I wanted - ” Cas turned wide blue eyes at Dean - “I wanted to be like you, Dean. To make my own choices.”

“You tried to Dom?” asked Sam, fascinated.

“I thought I was ready, but ... everything went wrong,” said Cas, blinking hastily. “I was betrayed. I … I hurt people.”

“Aw, angel.” Dean bent down and kissed his shoulder.

Cas closed his eyes, letting Dean stroke his hair. “I don’t ever want to be in charge again,” he whispered. “But now I’m - useless, and broken.”

Dean held him tighter, nuzzling his hair. “Hey, you just need a good Dom to take care of you. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

It was just like him, Sam thought, to dismiss all of a sub’s culpability and undertake the responsibility himself.

“Please show me,” said Cas, shivering. “I know it’s too much to ask, but I can’t - I can’t.”

“Hey, hey, sh sh sh. That’s enough. Shush.” Dean fitted his big hand over the curve of Cas’ head, drawing him in to rest against Dean’s chest. His eyes met Sam’s over Cas’ head, grim. “He needs to be Dommed, real bad,” said Dean.

Sam remembered how when he’d first appeared on the scene - a scared, mixed-up sub - Cas had been a model for him to learn from; proud, at peace, dignified in his submission.

He looked at the dark-haired man now, huddled in Dean’s arms. “Maybe you should do it,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“I know you want to help him. Go on, Dean. It’d be - just this once.”

“I’m not going to cheat on you, sweetheart,” said Dean quietly. “Not ever. I made a commitment to you, and I’m going to keep it.”

Sam fingered the woven leather ring around his finger. “But it’s Cas,” he said.

“Exactly. That's why if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it together.”

Sam was pretty sure his mouth had actually fallen open. “What?”

“Well, I can't fuck him, obviously ...but you could, with my permission.”

Sam swallowed hard. Unbidden, an image occurred to him, of the three of them tangled together. Like the morning they’d woken up all in the same bed.

Dean craned his neck to look at Cas. “How’s that sound to you, angel?”

“Good,” said Cas, voice a low rumble.

“So whattaya say, Sammy?”

Sam chewed on his lip.

“Cas, why don't you give us a minute here, hmm?” Dean kissed Cas’ temple.

Cas' expression was serene; just asking for what he wanted clearly improved his outlook already. “Yes, Dean.”

Dean watched him go, then turned to Sam. “Baby, if you’re not sure about this, I’ll put a stop to it right now.”

Sam shook his head. “I feel … okay with it, actually,” he said, listening to the sound of the shower turn on in the other room. “I mean, you’ll … you’ll be there the whole time, right?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll do all the work, you’ll just be the toy I fuck him with.”

Sam shivered. It was incredible how Dean still had the ability, after so many years, to make him feel like a blushing virgin.

“Does that sound good, Sammy? I'll help you give Cas what he needs, and meanwhile I’ll give you what you need. All you gotta do is exactly what I say. You think you can do that?”

Sam nodded wordlessly.

The water shut off in the other room.

“Just … promise me nothing’s going to change?” said Sam. Promise me you'll never like him more than me.

“Hey.” Dean leaned forward and pulled Sam down to rest their foreheads together. “Nothing could ever come between us. You know that.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Dean grinned boyishly up at him. “You wanna go wait in the bedroom, while I go and net our little birdie?”

Sam nodded. He walked down the hallway and stood at the foot of the bed, trying to seem calm and confident when Dean appeared in the doorway.

“Loose the shirt,” said Dean casually to Cas, who came in behind him.

“Yes, Dean.”

Slowly, Cas slipped out of Dean’s AC/DC shirt, folding it carefully and laying it over the bench at the foot of the bed.

Sam could remember being fucked on that bench, many times, laying there as limply as the discarded shirt.

He blinked the thought away.

“Pants now, angel. Show Sammy what he’s dealing with.”

Cas had never had much shame, not in the old days, and apparently not now. Without any seeming hesitation, he opened the fly of Dean’s pants and lowered the zip, then pushed them off of his slender hips.

“And the shorts, smart ass.”

Obediently, Cas dipped his finger under the waistband of his boxers, lowering them slowly.

“Looks real pretty, doesn’t he Sammy,” asked Dean.

Sam nodded, a little nervously. Cas did look good - pale, and innocent, his skinny body exposed while Dean and Sam were still dressed. Like Sam, he was entirely hairless except for a well-groomed little cloud at the base of his dick.

He was hardening obviously, most of the way full already.

“Look at this sweet little bubble butt.” Dean stroked it affectionately. “Needs to be fucked, huh? Whattaya say, Sammy, you think you’re up for that?”

Sam nodded, falling quiet the way he often did during a scene. He didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to make Dean happy.

“Cas, you wanna get on the bed?” said Dean. “Does that sound good to you?”

“Yes Dean.”

“That’s right, right there on the mattress. Sammy, come over here. And take your shirt off for me, sweetheart.”

Sam squirmed out of his shirt, tossing it carelessly over the one Cas had folded nicely.

“Hands above your head, angel. Grab the headboard.” Cas complied. The bed was of course equipped for every kind of restraint known to man, but Dean apparently wasn’t looking for that tonight. "Hold them there for me. Don't need to tie you down, do I? Gonna keep yourself nice and still for me, all on your own, huh?"

Cas nodded shyly.

“He’s gonna feel real good, Sammy,” said Dean. “Real warm and welcoming. You’re gonna love it. Angel, anytime you’re ready, spread nice and wide for Sam now.”

Cas hesitated, minutely.

“Hey angel, no, sh sh sh, look at me.” Dean cupped Cas’ cheek in his hand and turned his face so their eyes met. “That’s good,” he said, “look at me. We’re not gonna hurtcha. He just wants to look, okay?”

Slowly, Cas drew up his knees, letting them fall open.

“That’s right.” Dean took hold of his thighs and spread them wider, until Sam could see the little pink divot of his anus.

“So pretty, angel.” Cas was relaxed now, breathing softly, looking at Dean, who was holding his gaze. “Alright now, you stay just like that.”

Cas was obediently still, and Sam stood where Dean positioned him, at the end of the bed between Cas’ spread thighs.

His eyes kept returning to Cas’ tender little hole, which fluttered shyly under his scrutiny. It was slick and shiny.

Was that what he looked like, when they did this? So open, so vulnerable?

Dean opened Sam’s pants and pulled out his twitching dick, casually, as if he owned it. Which he basically did.

“Look at this massive thing,” said Dean, stroking Sam. “What do you think, angel, you want it up your ass?”

Cas nodded.

“You’d like that? Being split open on this colossal dick? Having it push up into you, all hot and hard in your tight, tiny little hole?”

“I would like that,” Cas confirmed.

Dean smiled. “Yeah you would. Did you get yourself nice and ready for him?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded mutely, then groaned in pleasure as Dean slid a finger between his legs to check. His knuckles were white where they gripped the headboard.

“Mm, you feel nice in here,” said Dean calmly. “I can feel your little hole contracting all around my finger. Do you like this, angel?”

“Yes,” said Cas breathily. “I like it.”

Dean leaned down to kiss Cas’ forehead, stroking his dark hair back. “Your safe word is stop, or no, or don’t, okay? Sammy’s the one who likes to struggle; you just need to take it like a good boy for me.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas was staring devotedly up at him, and Dean smiled back. Sam was reminded again that they’d had sex before, many times, before either of them even met Sam.

For the first time, the thought didn’t really bother him.

Dean rolled a condom over Sam, which was unfamiliar after so many years. Then he molded himself against his back, hands settling warm and possessive on his hips.

“Feelin’ good, angel, all spread out for Sammy and me?”

Cas nodded.

“Step up, Sammy,” he said. “Go on, up on the bed.” He guided him up to kneel between Cas’ spread thighs. “Hands either side of him, sweetheart. Brace yourself for me.”

Sam’s hips dipped over Cas’ naked groin, feeling the rub of their dicks through the open fly of his pants.

“Angel, you wanna suck on his chest? It’s right there, if you can reach.”

Sam hissed as a warm, wet mouth closed over his left nipple. He was very sensitive there, as Dean well knew, and the brush of teeth had him gasping. He might have pulled back, but Dean’s hand curled around the back of his neck, holding him in place until Cas pulled off with a smacking sound.

“Yeah, Sammy loves to have his titties sucked on,” said Dean affectionately, patting Sam’s jean-covered butt as he withdrew and allowed Sam to straighten up.

“Jerk,” Sam muttered, although he felt like all his blood was rushing straight to his dick with each throb of his nipples.

He looked down at Cas, who was pressed flat underneath him, his mouth open, eyes shut.

“Kiss him, Sammy.” Dean took a firm grip of Sam’s hair - Sam hissed at the light burst of pain - and pushed his head down, mashing their mouths together.

Sam felt a little bit like a Barbie doll, being played with by a bossy twelve year old girl. He couldn’t kiss properly, not with Dean holding him at the deliberate wrong angle. Instead Cas’ pink tongue darted into Sam’s open mouth and Sam groaned.

Dean pressed Sam's hips down into a messy grind against Cas, which must have felt amazing to the man beneath him, who was totally bare. Cas’ frantic moans, muffled in Sam’s mouth, seemed to suggest it.

“Gotta relax for Sammy’s dick, okay, angel? He doesn’t want to hurt you. He wants it to feel real good. Don’t you, Sammy?”

Unable to speak, Sam nodded urgently.

“Up,” said Dean, his voice steady, confident of being obeyed, the voice you would use to call a well-trained dog to heel.

Sam lifted himself obediently.

With one hand Dean took a good hold of the base of Sam’s dick, the other hand an anchor on his hip. Sam could feel the heat of him through the fabric at his back; Dean was fully dressed.

Dean nudged the head of his dick between Cas’ pale buttocks, which relaxed to receive it. But instead of pushing him forward, he rubbed it gently over the soft, wrinkled skin.

“Tell Sammy you want it,” said Dean.

“I want it,” said Cas. “Please, Dean.”

It seemed right, thought Sam, that Cas should be asking Dean and not him.

Dean steered him in, shouldering Cas’ thighs open to receive him. Sam’s heart was thundering. He hadn’t ever fucked anybody but Dean, and usually Dean did all the work.

“Deep breath, angel,” said Dean. “Here we go.”

He took hold of Sam’s hips with both hands, controlling all movement. He held him back until Sam grunted in protest, straining forward.
Then he pushed him firmly in.

It felt amazing, the yielding flesh giving way to his dick. Sam groaned, unable to go slow and savor the sensation with Dean forcing him down. It was too good, too much. Dean got buried all the way up to the hilt, unable to thrust further, and Sam rutted blindly him with nowhere to go.

“Easy, Sam. Hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” said Dean. “I’m here, Sammy.” He stroked a hand over Sam’s back, rubbing between his shoulderblades until Sam relaxed and came back to himself.

Dean reached around to free him from the pants and boxers which were trapped under his cock and balls, pulling them down Sam’s thighs and down around his knees. Sam keened and the cold air on his skin, and Dean patted his bare butt with affection, smoothing his hands down his sides. “Good boy,” he murmured.

“Come on, Dean,” said Sam, fidgeting.

“So impatient,” Dean chuckled. “Look at Cas, he’s not in any hurry, are ya angel. You’re just going to wait as long as I tell you, offering up your little hole whenever I want, hmm?”

“Yes, Dean,” said Cas. Heavy-lidded, relaxed, his eyes were calm and trusting, locked on Dean’s face, the brightest blue that Sam had ever seen. Dean brushed a thumb across his lips and Cas turned his face into it, opening his mouth like a baby bird.

“M'coming, baby.”

Sam groaned at the feeling of strong hands, prizing his butt-cheeks apart, spreading him wide. He made himself relax for it, panting as a slick finger probed carefully at his tight-clenched asshole.

“Doan’ … wanna … come,” gasped Sam, frantically shoving back against the penetration. Pressure skated across his prostate and Sam wailed, feeling a wave of heat all the way down to his curling toes.

“Gotcha, I gotcha Sammy.” Dean’s hand whipped around to the pulsing place where Sam was still joined to Cas. He wrapped his fingers tight around Sam’s cock and squeezed hard. Sam whined as the pressure in his balls eased off. “That’s right, steady, Sammy. Hold on for me, okay? Want you to give Cas a nice long fucking. Know you can go like a battering ram when you need to. He needs to be pounded, don’t you angel?”

The wet, familiar head of Dean’s dick nosed against Sam’s hole. He groaned and shifted back to take it, feel it better.

“That’s right, that’s what you need, isn’t it. Mm, Sammy sammich,” Dean whispered. Sam might have rolled his eyes at that - puns, Dean, really? - but instead they rolled back in his head as Dean tugged him back, part way out of Cas’ tight heat, and on to Dean’s dick.

The sensation of both penetrating and being penetrated was almost more than Sam could process.

“Here we go, sweetheart.” Dean fucked into him slowly, a series of short, deep pushes that had Sam seeing stars. He pressed Sam flat over Cas, so the smaller man was bearing their entire weight. Cas didn’t offer any complaint, shifting to accommodate as best he could with his hands still wrapped tight around the bars of the headboard and his lower body pinned.

“Dean,” Sam moaned, muffled in Cas’ chest.

“C’mon, Sammy,” said Dean, “lets give him what he needs, hmm?”

The snap of Dean’s hips transferred into Cas, who moaned softly and tipped his pelvis up to receive it.

“So good,” Dean hummed, leaning over Sam’s shoulder to kiss Cas. Sam hadn’t been sure how it would feel, watching Dean kiss another man, but somehow he felt okay with it.

Cas didn’t pretend to try and take control of the kiss like Sam did. He didn’t have to be held in place. He kept his head resting on the pillow and sweetly accepted Dean’s mouth, opened quietly to allow the tongue between his lips. Dean stroked his knuckles over the stubbly cheek, and Cas leaned unashamedly into the pressure, closing his eyes.

“Good boy,” said Dean, his lips only milimeters from Cas’. “Let Sammy take care of you now, he’s gonna make you feel real good.” Cas nodded, letting his head drop against the pillow as Dean leaned back, gripping tightly hold of Sam’s hips and picking up the pace.

Numbly, Sam let Dean steer him through the strokes, feeling the recoil in Cas’ body even as Dean drove into him from behind. Distantly he was aware that he was moaning. He felt as though Dean was fucking Cas through him, like he was just an extension of Dean’s own dick.

He settled into a steady, driving rhythm that had Sam grunting out his breath on every stroke.

“Now, what were you saying before, baby? You wanted it nice and hard, right?” Dean began to pick up speed, slamming Sam harder and faster into Cas.

“S’good,” Sam managed. “S’so good, Dean, mm, more.” He let himself go loose except for raising his hips, offering his ass for each relentless stroke, and heard Dean muttering in his ear, Sammy, Cas, sweetheart, mine, angel, mine, baby, my baby, mine.

Sam didn’t even know which one of them he meant anymore, and it barely mattered.

He leaned forward and buried his face into Cas’ shoulder, feeling as if he couldn’t take any more.

One sudden jab and Sam came, screaming at the sudden overwhelming rush, and felt almost simultaneously the wet spurt of Cas’ dick against his stomach, painting them both with a sloppy mess. Cas was silent as he came, biting his lip, eyes fixed over Sam’s shoulder, at Dean. But he lifted a hand to stroke Sam’s hair, pressing a gentle kiss against his sweaty temple.

“Come, Dean,” he murmured. “You’ve done such a good job, now it’s your turn. Come.”

Dean swore, buried his teeth in the back of Sam’s neck, and filled his ass, thrusting through it slowly. Sam groaned feebly, instinctively pressing back against him, wanting everything he had to offer.

When Dean’s hand dropped down to rest on the pillow, Cas turned his head to kiss his knuckles.

Sam dozed through the next few minutes, barely aware of being rolled on to his back, the warm rag cleaning off his stomach. Vaguely he was aware of Cas, next to him, receiving the same treatment. Someone striped the condom off of his dick, wiped down his cock and balls, slid between his legs to clean where he was wet and throbbing.

At some point a warm, drowsy bundle of Cas was rolled into his arms, the blanket tucked tight around both of them. The lights went out, then someone bent to stroke the hair out of Sam’s face, kissing his lax lips. Sam barely opened his eyes to see Dean repeat the ritual, Cas barely able to form a pucker when Dean brushed a kiss over his mouth. Then the mattress dipped on Sam’s other side as Dean crawled into bed, the blankets lifted quickly as Dean slid in and molded himself against Sam.

Sam fell deeply asleep as soon as his Dom’s fingers slipped to their accustomed spot between his legs.

-

Sam was awoken an indeterminate amount of time later. Without moving, he opened his eyes and tried to figure out what had woken him.

“Dean,” murmured Cas. “Dean, it’s alright. Wake up.” Sam turned his head to look. Cas was sitting on the edge of the bed, close to Dean’s head. Dean was shifting on the pillow. Cas reached out, gently, to stroke Dean’s forehead. “It’s alright, Dean.”

He'd always been a restless sleeper.

Cas had caught sight of Sam’s slitted eyes in the darkness. “Go back to sleep, Samuel,” he said quietly. “It’s alright.”

Sam obediently closed his eyes but couldn’t drift off. Vaguely he was aware of soft voices talking nearby.

“Shit. I wake him up?” That was Dean’s low whisper. The mattress shifted. Sam kept his eyes closed. The blanket was adjusted, tucked tighter around him, then a kiss was planted on his forehead. Dean’s movements were confident, practiced; it clearly wasn't the first time he'd petted Sam in his sleep.

Sam kept his breathing soft and even.

“How’re you feeling, angel?” Dean was trying to keep his voice down, obviously believing Sam was still asleep.

“Better. Thank you, Dean.”

“Hey, you should be thanking Sammy, he did all the work.”

“I should thank you both, for allowing me to share in your happiness,” said Cas quietly. “I’m … going to miss you.”

Sam felt the mattress move as Dean shifted closer to Cas. “C’mere, angel.”

It was quiet for a long time. “You know I’m expecting you to come visit all the time, now that you know where we are. Don’t let another five years pass without seeing us, okay?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Cas quietly. “You are Sam have a good life here. I won’t be the cause of spoiling it.”

“You don’t spoil it,” said Dean firmly. “I don't like you popping in and out of our lives. I want to know that you're not out there somewhere, needing me, and I won't know it until too late. I need to know that you’re … happy.”

“You make me happy,” said Cas, in a small voice. “You and Sam.”

Dean exhaled, and Sam felt the air rush over his face.

"I'm really going to miss you too,” said Dean.

“I wish … I don’t know what I wish for.”

“Let’s just sleep, okay?” murmured Dean. “This will all seem better in the morning.”

After that, there was silence.

Sam dared to peek, and found that he could make out the shape of them in the half-light, Cas curled around Dean’s side, head on Dean’s shoulder, Dean’s hands stroking his hair.

Long after their breathing turned soft with sleep, Sam laid awake, thinking.

-

The next morning Sam stayed in bed long after he heard Dean - who got up with the sun most days - throw back the blankets and slide out. He drifted in and out, distantly aware of Cas leaving too, and the distant, domestic sound of breakfast being prepared.

“Hey Sammy? You gettin’ up this morning?” Dean came back and Sam peered around through bleary eyes.

“Hmm?”

“It’s almost noon, buddy. Did we wear you out?” Although Dean’s words were teasing, there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone. He sat on the bed, combing Sam’s hair back from his face. “You feeling okay?”

Sam leaned into the touch. “I’m fine. Promise.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Cas?”

“He’s in his room. He’s … packing up.”

Sam sat up all the way. “What?”

“Well, yeah. Gave me some bullshit lines this morning about feeling better, being ready to get back out there. Wouldn’t hear any disagreements. I convinced him to at least let us drive him to the airport, I think he was going to just walk to a bus stop.”

“No,” said Sam, “I want him to stay.”

“What?”

“Can you call him? Please?”

“Sure.” Dean stood up. “How about I go get him.”

Sam pushed back the blanket and went to the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth. When he got back, Cas was sitting on the unmade bed with Dean standing next to him.

“So what’s up, Sammy?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Sam started bravely. “Cas, if you have any desire at all to stick around with Dean and I … I think you should do it.”

“But …” Cas looked up at Dean, wide-eyed. “Did you put him up to this?”

Dean’s expression was unreadable. “I didn’t say a word,” he said. “Sammy, where’s this coming from?”

“I love you, Dean,” said Sam honestly. “I love you more than anything in the world. And you love Cas." Seeing his Dom open his mouth to defend himself, Sam continued hurriedly, "and, you love me too. I don't doubt that, not ever, even for a second. But - with him here, it's like ... we all fit, you know?”

He ducked his head, suddenly afraid he’d spoken out of turn.

"Sammy, you know you're enough for me," said Dean, sounding puzzled. "I mean, of course I love Cas,” he paused to kiss Cas’ rumpled bed-head. “But that means I love him enough to find him the kind of Dom that he needs, and not risk trapping him in a situation if I’m not sure it will work out.”

So noble, Sam thought, shaking his head. Always such a martyr. “In the beginning, maybe I was kind of jealous,” he admitted, “but now, seeing how we are together - I just feel like … I don’t know, I’m willing to see what’s there. If you two are too. You already said we were like a family, anyway,” he pointed out.

“I said we were playing mommy and daddy to baby Cas,” Dean recollected. “But that’s not really true … if anything, I’d say we’re like brothers; you, me and Cas.”

“Gay, incestuous brothers?” said Sam skeptically.

“Yeah, okay, maybe not,” Dean said. “And I’d be the oldest brother, just so we’re clear.”

Sam rolled his eyes. Okay. He looked over at the other man. “Cas, what do you think?”

“I think … the thought of staying here, and joining your family … I've been told I do not have much imagination,” said Cas quietly. “But that sounds … as close to heaven as I can imagine.”

“Well, okay then,” said Dean, his voice gruff with emotion. “Sounds like we need to give this a try.” He put his arms around Cas’ shoulders, tugging him in, and with his other hand reached for Sam.

Cas’ eyes were bright. Sam found himself feeling a little shaky too, overcome with emotion. Dean kissed the top of his head.

“I can’t believe we finally get to have a threesome, and it’s with another dude.”

The End




Don't forget to check out rest of the incredible art byPaxdracona!

Author's note: This story was originally conceived as a standalone, director’s-cut ending to Surrender, a Dean/Sam fic I wrote for last year's spn_hardcore_bb . ((Note that there is an extreme difference in tone between the two fics, as Surrender contains strong scenes of noncon/dubcon between Sam and Dean .

If you're interested, you can read Shifting Rivalry as integrated into Surrender on A03.

Thank you for reading!