Fic: Single Female Lawyer
Title: Single Female Lawyer
Characters/pairing: Sassy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,500
Summary: AU fic. Sam is less than impressed when his sexual history starts making the rounds at the firm, but when that prompts Castiel the clerk to admit that he’s never had sex... Well, every cloud has a silver lining.
Notes: Shameless PWP. Blowjobs, come play, sex in a professional space. Same old, same old.
It was something that Sam had been warned about when he went into the profession. “Any stupid or embarrassing thing that you’ve done will come back to haunt you.” And while he was only in his first few years as a paralegal (“You’re not important enough yet to do anything really kinky,” Dean had told him,) Sam just considered himself lucky that it wasn’t anything big, that it was merely an ex-girlfriend from a few relationships back, who just happened to be a sex therapist. And Sam was momentarily reaffirmed of his decision to go into the practice of law, because that would come in so handy when he eventually tracked his brother down and killed him for letting such a detail slip out at a dinner party.
This was why Sam never took friends back to the apartment.
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Some teasing, some inappropriate comments, a lot of staring. Most people just wanted to know what exactly it was a sex therapist did.
“I don’t really know,” Sam would reply. “I was her boyfriend, not a client.”
“But you got a few freebie sessions? Right?” And Sam would roll his eyes and try to ignore it all. Which was pretty hard given the way the clerk at an adjacent desk stared at him.
Sam tried not to take it too personally - Castiel stared at everyone. And, to be honest, there were moments when Sam found himself staring at Castiel, who was so oddly pretty that he should come with a caution notice attached. Warning, this creature may be a distraction. Side effects of prolonged exposure to Castiel include loss of higher brain functions, significant reduction in workplace productivity, and occasional drooling.
“Well?” Sam snapped, after one joke too many and a few minutes past awkward of Castiel staring at him. “Do you have something to add?”
“I am in no position to hold opinion or concern over anyone else’s intimate relations,” Castiel replied.
“Oh?” Sam said, not buying it for a minute. “And why is that?”
“Because I have had none of my own.” And then Castiel turned back to his work with his usual serious dedication, and acted as if he hadn’t just left Sam completely floored.
Castiel. Castiel, who was too good looking to be allowed to exist. That Castiel, had never had sex? If ever a moment called for an interrobang, this was it. Sam’s concentration was shot for the rest of the afternoon, heading into the evening. He missed his stop on the train home because he was too caught up thinking about it. Sure, Castiel wasn’t the most socially graceful of all creatures... but never?
He was late to work the next day (“You took way too long in that shower,” Dean had smirked over breakfast. “There some pretty girl at work? Got some plans for the weekend, tiger?”), grateful that it was Friday and the office would be slow in the afternoon due to the ‘extended lunch’ the lawyers took from 2pm until sometime into Saturday.
“I’m not getting anything done,” Sam said at four-thirty. “Want to grab a drink with me?”
Castiel looked up at him, with something that was probably surprise on his face. Castiel usually didn’t attend social events, and for the first time Sam wondered if anyone thought to expressly invite him. He nodded. “If you will give me a moment?”
Sam logged off his computer, tidied his desk, and filed some papers away as Castiel typed the last of whatever summary he was up to. There was a bar a block over that the lawyers would be at, and one in the opposite direction that the clerks and interns and other grunts liked to occupy. Sam struck out for a third bar, one that Dean liked because it had good music and free pretzels. He was taking Castiel to one of his brother’s pick-up spots. He was so screwed.
“So,” Sam asked when they had their beers and a quiet corner to themselves. “You’ve never had sex?”
Castiel didn’t look particularly surprised or ruffled when he looked over at Sam. “You want to talk about that?”
“Well, yeah. If you don’t mind.”
Castiel held up one finger, gesturing for Sam to wait, and he held it in the air between them as he picked up his pint and downed more than half of it in one go. Sam would be impressed, but he was too busy staring at Castiel’s hands.
“Okay,” Castiel said, sitting the glass back down on the dark tabletop. “We can talk about it.” And he looked patiently at Sam with that messed up hair, those eyes that were more blue than anything in nature had a right to be, licking beer off his lower lip. It took Sam a long time to harness the brainpower he needed to actually speak.
“How?” he finally asked, and Castiel gave him a look that a question that dumb deserved. “I mean, look at you.” Castiel obligingly looked down at himself. “You’re easy on the eye, Cas, there’s no denying that.”
Cas looked back up at Sam. “Thank you?” And that uncertainty pretty much summed up the entire weird experience.
“I just don’t understand it,” Sam pushed on. “You’re smart. You have no obvious personality flaws. You’re good looking. How can the opportunity never have come up?” And then Sam felt a rush of heat to his face. “That pun was completely unintentional,” he hastened to add.
Castiel looked at Sam for a long moment, and then down at the table. And after a moment’s deliberation, he finished his beer in a second, long pull. “It’s true,” he said, “that when I was younger... as you say, the opportunity never presented itself.” He looked up at Sam with big blue eyes, and something almost like a smile curling the edge of his mouth. “My people skills were even worse, if you can believe it.”
Sam would believe anything, so long as it came past those lips with that voice. He rested his chin on his palm, entranced.
“When I was older,” Castiel looked down at the table again, “I realised that some of my interests... some of my responses, they were not entirely of the norm.”
Castiel was freaky in the sack, Sam’s brain translated. He was torn between being intrigued and aroused. He settled for somewhere in between the two. “How so?”
Castiel’s cheeks were flushed. Sam wondered if it was the beer or embarrassment. Or maybe it was something else, maybe Castiel was getting off on this almost as much as Sam, talking about his kinks and fantasies in a dark little bar with his hands on his lap. Then Sam wondered what the hell Cas was doing with his hands, wondered how he could find out.
“When I reach completion... I don’t stop.”
Sam had to think about that for a while. “So you, what, you keep orgasming?”
Castiel nodded, his gaze firmly fixed on the table.
“Is it just a long... or do you do it multiple times?”
“Both.”
Sam closed his eyes, and was instantly met with the image of Cas coming and coming, his head thrown back and his face flushed, biting into his bottom lip and... Sam forced his eyes open, ground the heel of his palm against his cock in a futile effort to calm down.
“And-” he paused to clear his throat. “You said that you had... interests?”
Castiel nodded. “I find attraction in fluids.” Sam lowered his head, ducking it down until he caught Castiel’s eye, and then held his gaze. “I’d like to be marked.”
Sam swallowed. “That... Jesus, Cas. I can’t believe nobody’s taken you up on that.”
Castiel stared at Sam, looking doubtful when he asked, “Would you take me up on it?”
Sam nodded. “Yes.”
Castiel let his eyes travel over Sam’s face, considering him. “Will you take me up on it?”
Sam could barely suppress the groan clawing its way out of his throat. “Oh god yes.” He had to stop, and take a deep breath, tell himself that jumping Castiel now would do nothing for his good reputation at this bar. Also, it would get back to Dean before the act was even half-way done. “When?”
“Now.”
“Jesus, Cas, you’re going to kill me. Okay, where?”
“My apartment is too far.”
“Mine has my brother in it.”
“The office?” At Sam’s stare Castiel added, “The copy room door has a lock. I’ve always wondered why.”
“Okay,” Sam said, grabbing his jacket. “Okay.”
The air outside was warm and that only served to make Sam’s pulse jump, because it meant that Cas reached up and tugged the knot of his tie loose, a simple action that made him look dishevelled, halfway to debauched. And when he looked up at Sam with a shy look, Sam couldn’t help but reach out and pull Cas against him, lean down and kiss him and love the way Cas arched forward a little to kiss him back. Sam was just reaching up to tangle a hand in Castiel’s perpetually unkempt hair, to grip it tight and angle his head just right, when a loud wolf whistle cut through the air, making Castiel jump, and Sam pull away, though neither of them blushed because they were both flushed and panting.
“Office,” Sam said.
“Now,” Castiel growled, and Sam had never agreed with an idea so firmly in his life. Again, a completely unintentional pun.
They tumbled down streets together, a mess of hands and mouths and a press of bodies too intent to be teasing yet too fleeting to satisfy. Castiel swiped them into the building with his security pass, and Sam pressed them into a lift, pinned Castiel against the far wall and kissed him hard, felt Castiel’s hands come up and grab his hips in a tight, hard grip and loved the feel of it.
When the lift opened at their floor they had to peel themselves apart, rake fingers through hair and straighten jackets enough to look presentable. It had barely been an hour. Sam suspected that if anyone was still in the office, he would chase them out himself.
The floor was empty. Blissfully bare and ecstatically empty. Sam eyed off his desk, thinking about bending Castiel over it, tying his hands behind his back with that blue tie, but Cas gave him a firm shove towards the back of the office.
“Copy room,” he said in that rough voice of his. “Lock.”
Sam was worried that things would stop once they were locked away inside the room, that Cas would look at him and ask what happened next. It was a fear that was crushed the second the lock slid home, because Cas was on him, claiming his mouth with fierce kisses that left Sam feeling giddy and drunk and possessive. He fought to keep his hands on Cas, anywhere on Cas even as Cas was struggling to strip Sam out of his jacket, to slip neat white buttons through their respective button holes. Sam had less restraint, shoving at Castiel’s trench coat with impatient hands, getting it off one shoulder and the black jacket beneath shoved to one side before Castiel put a hand on his dick, squeezed it and felt the length through Sam’s slacks.
“Sam,” he said, and he sounded so wrecked, looked so amazing with his cheeks pink and his mouth red, the skin around his lips shiny from spit. Sam watched as Castiel licked his lips, slid Sam’s belt free of its buckle, thumbed open the button of his pants. “Sam, I want...”
“Yes,” Sam said. “Anything. Everything. Whatever you want, Cas.”
Then Castiel dropped to his knees in front of Sam and Sam had to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe through his nose because that image - Castiel on his knees, looking up with those blue blue eyes and that messed up hair, with his jacket hanging off one shoulder and that mouth that was made to be abused - that image was going to make him come in his pants or kill him, and Sam didn’t know which would be worse.
And then Castiel pulled his cock out of his pants, held it with a hand at the base, stared at it like it was something amazing and Sam couldn’t quite find the words to say that this wasn’t the best time for that kind of flattery. And then Castiel was leaning closer, running the tip of his tongue along the length, pulling back to look at the barely-there strip of moisture he had left behind and Sam made a broken noise high up in his throat, one that caught Castiel’s attention, made him glance up as he wrapped his lips around the head of Sam’s cock, swiped his tongue up along the slit and pulled back to consider the taste.
Sam balled his hands into fists, not knowing what else to do with them, and had his mouth open, ready to beg when Castiel leaned forwards again and took Sam into his mouth, sliding his lips down and then pulling back, trying to find the right shape of his mouth, the right grip of his hand. And then he found the right combination, the right mix of shape and grip and suction because his mouth was sliding down Sam’s cock again, a little further this time, a little more confident and as he pulled back he pressed his tongue up against the thick vein along the underside of Sam’s cock, catching the little bundle of nerves just under the head. He paused there for a moment, ran his lips back and forth over the ridge around the head of Sam’s cock, swirled his tongue around it, pressed it hard underneath and sucked against that bundle of nerves, flicked his tongue up and played it against the slit of Sam’s cock, lapped at the constant beads of precome.
“Cas,” Sam said. “Jesus, Cas.”
“It’s considered rude to blaspheme so freely,” Castiel replied, his lips forming teasing shapes as he pressed his mouth against the length of Sam’s cock. He licked a long, thick stripe from base to tip and then ran his cheek along the same stretch of skin, smearing spit and precome across his cheekbone.
“Cas, please.”
“Show me what you need, Sam.” Castiel took Sam’s hand with his own, his thumb hot against the middle of Sam’s palm, and guided it to his mess of dark hair, encouraged Sam’s fingers to twine and grip and tug. The trust in the movement made Sam shudder, made his fingers clench and his dick throb when Castiel made a small noise of approval.
He guided Cas with cautious, gentle movements, sighed at the feel of lips stretched around his cock, a hot wet mouth that was learning so very quickly. But Castiel was impatient, grabbing Sam’s thigh with his free hand and digging blunt nails into the flesh. And Sam fisted his hand in Castiel’s hair, gripped hard and thrust his hips forward with short, shallow movements. Castiel made a pleased noise, breathed hard through his nose and stroked a thumb over the skin of Sam’s thigh in a soothing apology.
Sam fucked into Castiel’s mouth, one hand caught up in Cas’ hair, the other sitting at the corner of Cas’ mouth, feeling the stretch of lips and skin pulled taut, feeling moisture gather on his bottom lip. He wanted to stick his fingers in there, stretch Castiel’s mouth until it was full, slide home and choke him with cock but the honest to god truth was that Castiel was working some magic with his lips and mouth and tongue and Sam didn’t ever want it to end. Didn’t want anything more in life than to thrust into Castiel’s mouth over and over until he died from how good it felt. But Castiel changed his grip at the base of Sam’s cock, twisted his hand and slid it back and forth in time with the rhythm of his mouth and Sam was lost, lost and gone.
“Cas,” he choked out. “Cas, I’m-”
And Castiel pulled back, worked his hand that little bit faster and he took the first streak of come right in the face, his eyelashes sitting delicately atop flushed cheeks as Sam painted white across smooth skin. And then his mouth was back, swallowing down the second pulse, and the third. Hot, tight noises came from Castiel’s mouth, escaped from around Sam’s cock and his hand on Sam’s thigh was gripping hard enough to bruise. When Sam was spent Cas rested his head against the line of Sam’s hip, shaking and making small, wrecked noises.
“Cas?” Sam ran his hand through Cas’ hair, tilted his head back and saw a face lost in the rapture of orgasm, saw Cas shake and bite back moans as white teeth sank into his swollen bottom lip. Castiel came in his pants on the copy room floor, without even touching himself.
“Cas,” Sam said again as he sank to his knees, got tangled up in Castiel’s limbs as he stripped clothing away. As he kissed hot and messy at Castiel’s mouth, tasted his own come and wasn’t exactly sure why it was so hot, as he put it down to the noises that Cas made every time Sam touched his skin, when his thumb rubbed along Castiel’s cheek, caught the semen sitting there and rubbed it into the flesh, smeared over his face.
“Yes,” Castiel breathed, and Sam had no idea what he was agreeing to but he was willing to go along for the ride. He got Castiel’s pants open, and Cas kicked his sensible black shoes off in response, which was clearly an invitation for Sam to shove his pants and underwear out of the way, to look at the mess of arousal Castiel had made of himself, to stare in hot, coiling wonder as Castiel’s dick started to harden again as Sam wrapped his hand around it, stare at the way Cas threw his head back and keened as Sam started stroking it.
“Is this for me?” he asked, running his fingers through the come smeared around the base of Castiel’s cock, against his inner thigh. “You came like this from sucking my dick?”
“I’m sorry,” Castiel said as he dug his fingers into the short, cheap carpet. “I didn’t-”
“That is so fucking hot, Cas,” Sam said, cutting him off. He dragged his fingers through Castiel’s come, got them slick and then trailed them lower, pressed against Castiel’s opening with teasing touches, slick strokes, made Castiel twist and moan. “You can do this whenever you want,” he said. “Do this all the time. Going to take you home and do this all weekend, paint your whole body with come and kisses.” Castiel moaned, rolling his hips and Sam took that as an invitation to press one finger inside.
“Gonna get you a cock ring,” he said as he tightened his grip at the base of Castiel’s cock, as he twisted his hand and wrung another incredible noise out of Castiel. “Gonna get you all hot and see how long I can make you wait, see how crazy you get before I let you come.” Sam couldn’t believe the shit that was pouring out of his mouth, couldn’t believe the way Castiel writhed beneath him, begged with sounds because he wasn’t coherent enough to form words.
“God, it’s so hot that you’re getting off on this,” Sam said, thrusting that one finger in and out even as Castiel clenched around him, even as his heels planted firmly on the ground beside Sam’s knees, as he thrust up into Sam’s grip, as he came again and kept coming and coming, that beautiful swollen mouth spilling over with moans and pants and a few barely coherent sounds that boiled down to “Yes” and “Please” and “Sam” and “Fuck”, over and over again.
Sam kept his hand moving, as Castiel came and painted streaks of come over his stomach and onto the wrinkled white of his shirt where it was bunched up around his chest. Kept stroking and thrusting his fingers into Cas as he came and kept coming, an orgasm that lasted for minutes, starting with low groans and tightly bunched muscles and teasing out into lost little keening noises and shivers and shudders as Sam drew light fingertips over sensitive skin, as he pressed and teased until Castiel was a whimpering boneless mess, splayed out over scratchy carpet raw and so full of bliss that his eyes were unfocussed and he was a million miles away. And then Sam’s hands and fingers slowed, and Castiel’s gasps became long, slow breaths, inhaling the thick air of the copy room, smelling like ozone from the machines and bleach from the stacks of paper and sex sex sex.
As Sam and Castiel stared at each other, panting and exhausted and somehow still aroused, as they wondered how they were going to get cleaned up enough to get out of the building, wondered exactly what was going to happen next, Sam realised that he was willing to forgive Dean for blabbing at that stupid dinner party.
The teasing had been completely worth it, would be a perfect penance for the things he had planned.
Characters/pairing: Sassy
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3,500
Summary: AU fic. Sam is less than impressed when his sexual history starts making the rounds at the firm, but when that prompts Castiel the clerk to admit that he’s never had sex... Well, every cloud has a silver lining.
Notes: Shameless PWP. Blowjobs, come play, sex in a professional space. Same old, same old.
It was something that Sam had been warned about when he went into the profession. “Any stupid or embarrassing thing that you’ve done will come back to haunt you.” And while he was only in his first few years as a paralegal (“You’re not important enough yet to do anything really kinky,” Dean had told him,) Sam just considered himself lucky that it wasn’t anything big, that it was merely an ex-girlfriend from a few relationships back, who just happened to be a sex therapist. And Sam was momentarily reaffirmed of his decision to go into the practice of law, because that would come in so handy when he eventually tracked his brother down and killed him for letting such a detail slip out at a dinner party.
This was why Sam never took friends back to the apartment.
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Some teasing, some inappropriate comments, a lot of staring. Most people just wanted to know what exactly it was a sex therapist did.
“I don’t really know,” Sam would reply. “I was her boyfriend, not a client.”
“But you got a few freebie sessions? Right?” And Sam would roll his eyes and try to ignore it all. Which was pretty hard given the way the clerk at an adjacent desk stared at him.
Sam tried not to take it too personally - Castiel stared at everyone. And, to be honest, there were moments when Sam found himself staring at Castiel, who was so oddly pretty that he should come with a caution notice attached. Warning, this creature may be a distraction. Side effects of prolonged exposure to Castiel include loss of higher brain functions, significant reduction in workplace productivity, and occasional drooling.
“Well?” Sam snapped, after one joke too many and a few minutes past awkward of Castiel staring at him. “Do you have something to add?”
“I am in no position to hold opinion or concern over anyone else’s intimate relations,” Castiel replied.
“Oh?” Sam said, not buying it for a minute. “And why is that?”
“Because I have had none of my own.” And then Castiel turned back to his work with his usual serious dedication, and acted as if he hadn’t just left Sam completely floored.
Castiel. Castiel, who was too good looking to be allowed to exist. That Castiel, had never had sex? If ever a moment called for an interrobang, this was it. Sam’s concentration was shot for the rest of the afternoon, heading into the evening. He missed his stop on the train home because he was too caught up thinking about it. Sure, Castiel wasn’t the most socially graceful of all creatures... but never?
He was late to work the next day (“You took way too long in that shower,” Dean had smirked over breakfast. “There some pretty girl at work? Got some plans for the weekend, tiger?”), grateful that it was Friday and the office would be slow in the afternoon due to the ‘extended lunch’ the lawyers took from 2pm until sometime into Saturday.
“I’m not getting anything done,” Sam said at four-thirty. “Want to grab a drink with me?”
Castiel looked up at him, with something that was probably surprise on his face. Castiel usually didn’t attend social events, and for the first time Sam wondered if anyone thought to expressly invite him. He nodded. “If you will give me a moment?”
Sam logged off his computer, tidied his desk, and filed some papers away as Castiel typed the last of whatever summary he was up to. There was a bar a block over that the lawyers would be at, and one in the opposite direction that the clerks and interns and other grunts liked to occupy. Sam struck out for a third bar, one that Dean liked because it had good music and free pretzels. He was taking Castiel to one of his brother’s pick-up spots. He was so screwed.
“So,” Sam asked when they had their beers and a quiet corner to themselves. “You’ve never had sex?”
Castiel didn’t look particularly surprised or ruffled when he looked over at Sam. “You want to talk about that?”
“Well, yeah. If you don’t mind.”
Castiel held up one finger, gesturing for Sam to wait, and he held it in the air between them as he picked up his pint and downed more than half of it in one go. Sam would be impressed, but he was too busy staring at Castiel’s hands.
“Okay,” Castiel said, sitting the glass back down on the dark tabletop. “We can talk about it.” And he looked patiently at Sam with that messed up hair, those eyes that were more blue than anything in nature had a right to be, licking beer off his lower lip. It took Sam a long time to harness the brainpower he needed to actually speak.
“How?” he finally asked, and Castiel gave him a look that a question that dumb deserved. “I mean, look at you.” Castiel obligingly looked down at himself. “You’re easy on the eye, Cas, there’s no denying that.”
Cas looked back up at Sam. “Thank you?” And that uncertainty pretty much summed up the entire weird experience.
“I just don’t understand it,” Sam pushed on. “You’re smart. You have no obvious personality flaws. You’re good looking. How can the opportunity never have come up?” And then Sam felt a rush of heat to his face. “That pun was completely unintentional,” he hastened to add.
Castiel looked at Sam for a long moment, and then down at the table. And after a moment’s deliberation, he finished his beer in a second, long pull. “It’s true,” he said, “that when I was younger... as you say, the opportunity never presented itself.” He looked up at Sam with big blue eyes, and something almost like a smile curling the edge of his mouth. “My people skills were even worse, if you can believe it.”
Sam would believe anything, so long as it came past those lips with that voice. He rested his chin on his palm, entranced.
“When I was older,” Castiel looked down at the table again, “I realised that some of my interests... some of my responses, they were not entirely of the norm.”
Castiel was freaky in the sack, Sam’s brain translated. He was torn between being intrigued and aroused. He settled for somewhere in between the two. “How so?”
Castiel’s cheeks were flushed. Sam wondered if it was the beer or embarrassment. Or maybe it was something else, maybe Castiel was getting off on this almost as much as Sam, talking about his kinks and fantasies in a dark little bar with his hands on his lap. Then Sam wondered what the hell Cas was doing with his hands, wondered how he could find out.
“When I reach completion... I don’t stop.”
Sam had to think about that for a while. “So you, what, you keep orgasming?”
Castiel nodded, his gaze firmly fixed on the table.
“Is it just a long... or do you do it multiple times?”
“Both.”
Sam closed his eyes, and was instantly met with the image of Cas coming and coming, his head thrown back and his face flushed, biting into his bottom lip and... Sam forced his eyes open, ground the heel of his palm against his cock in a futile effort to calm down.
“And-” he paused to clear his throat. “You said that you had... interests?”
Castiel nodded. “I find attraction in fluids.” Sam lowered his head, ducking it down until he caught Castiel’s eye, and then held his gaze. “I’d like to be marked.”
Sam swallowed. “That... Jesus, Cas. I can’t believe nobody’s taken you up on that.”
Castiel stared at Sam, looking doubtful when he asked, “Would you take me up on it?”
Sam nodded. “Yes.”
Castiel let his eyes travel over Sam’s face, considering him. “Will you take me up on it?”
Sam could barely suppress the groan clawing its way out of his throat. “Oh god yes.” He had to stop, and take a deep breath, tell himself that jumping Castiel now would do nothing for his good reputation at this bar. Also, it would get back to Dean before the act was even half-way done. “When?”
“Now.”
“Jesus, Cas, you’re going to kill me. Okay, where?”
“My apartment is too far.”
“Mine has my brother in it.”
“The office?” At Sam’s stare Castiel added, “The copy room door has a lock. I’ve always wondered why.”
“Okay,” Sam said, grabbing his jacket. “Okay.”
The air outside was warm and that only served to make Sam’s pulse jump, because it meant that Cas reached up and tugged the knot of his tie loose, a simple action that made him look dishevelled, halfway to debauched. And when he looked up at Sam with a shy look, Sam couldn’t help but reach out and pull Cas against him, lean down and kiss him and love the way Cas arched forward a little to kiss him back. Sam was just reaching up to tangle a hand in Castiel’s perpetually unkempt hair, to grip it tight and angle his head just right, when a loud wolf whistle cut through the air, making Castiel jump, and Sam pull away, though neither of them blushed because they were both flushed and panting.
“Office,” Sam said.
“Now,” Castiel growled, and Sam had never agreed with an idea so firmly in his life. Again, a completely unintentional pun.
They tumbled down streets together, a mess of hands and mouths and a press of bodies too intent to be teasing yet too fleeting to satisfy. Castiel swiped them into the building with his security pass, and Sam pressed them into a lift, pinned Castiel against the far wall and kissed him hard, felt Castiel’s hands come up and grab his hips in a tight, hard grip and loved the feel of it.
When the lift opened at their floor they had to peel themselves apart, rake fingers through hair and straighten jackets enough to look presentable. It had barely been an hour. Sam suspected that if anyone was still in the office, he would chase them out himself.
The floor was empty. Blissfully bare and ecstatically empty. Sam eyed off his desk, thinking about bending Castiel over it, tying his hands behind his back with that blue tie, but Cas gave him a firm shove towards the back of the office.
“Copy room,” he said in that rough voice of his. “Lock.”
Sam was worried that things would stop once they were locked away inside the room, that Cas would look at him and ask what happened next. It was a fear that was crushed the second the lock slid home, because Cas was on him, claiming his mouth with fierce kisses that left Sam feeling giddy and drunk and possessive. He fought to keep his hands on Cas, anywhere on Cas even as Cas was struggling to strip Sam out of his jacket, to slip neat white buttons through their respective button holes. Sam had less restraint, shoving at Castiel’s trench coat with impatient hands, getting it off one shoulder and the black jacket beneath shoved to one side before Castiel put a hand on his dick, squeezed it and felt the length through Sam’s slacks.
“Sam,” he said, and he sounded so wrecked, looked so amazing with his cheeks pink and his mouth red, the skin around his lips shiny from spit. Sam watched as Castiel licked his lips, slid Sam’s belt free of its buckle, thumbed open the button of his pants. “Sam, I want...”
“Yes,” Sam said. “Anything. Everything. Whatever you want, Cas.”
Then Castiel dropped to his knees in front of Sam and Sam had to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe through his nose because that image - Castiel on his knees, looking up with those blue blue eyes and that messed up hair, with his jacket hanging off one shoulder and that mouth that was made to be abused - that image was going to make him come in his pants or kill him, and Sam didn’t know which would be worse.
And then Castiel pulled his cock out of his pants, held it with a hand at the base, stared at it like it was something amazing and Sam couldn’t quite find the words to say that this wasn’t the best time for that kind of flattery. And then Castiel was leaning closer, running the tip of his tongue along the length, pulling back to look at the barely-there strip of moisture he had left behind and Sam made a broken noise high up in his throat, one that caught Castiel’s attention, made him glance up as he wrapped his lips around the head of Sam’s cock, swiped his tongue up along the slit and pulled back to consider the taste.
Sam balled his hands into fists, not knowing what else to do with them, and had his mouth open, ready to beg when Castiel leaned forwards again and took Sam into his mouth, sliding his lips down and then pulling back, trying to find the right shape of his mouth, the right grip of his hand. And then he found the right combination, the right mix of shape and grip and suction because his mouth was sliding down Sam’s cock again, a little further this time, a little more confident and as he pulled back he pressed his tongue up against the thick vein along the underside of Sam’s cock, catching the little bundle of nerves just under the head. He paused there for a moment, ran his lips back and forth over the ridge around the head of Sam’s cock, swirled his tongue around it, pressed it hard underneath and sucked against that bundle of nerves, flicked his tongue up and played it against the slit of Sam’s cock, lapped at the constant beads of precome.
“Cas,” Sam said. “Jesus, Cas.”
“It’s considered rude to blaspheme so freely,” Castiel replied, his lips forming teasing shapes as he pressed his mouth against the length of Sam’s cock. He licked a long, thick stripe from base to tip and then ran his cheek along the same stretch of skin, smearing spit and precome across his cheekbone.
“Cas, please.”
“Show me what you need, Sam.” Castiel took Sam’s hand with his own, his thumb hot against the middle of Sam’s palm, and guided it to his mess of dark hair, encouraged Sam’s fingers to twine and grip and tug. The trust in the movement made Sam shudder, made his fingers clench and his dick throb when Castiel made a small noise of approval.
He guided Cas with cautious, gentle movements, sighed at the feel of lips stretched around his cock, a hot wet mouth that was learning so very quickly. But Castiel was impatient, grabbing Sam’s thigh with his free hand and digging blunt nails into the flesh. And Sam fisted his hand in Castiel’s hair, gripped hard and thrust his hips forward with short, shallow movements. Castiel made a pleased noise, breathed hard through his nose and stroked a thumb over the skin of Sam’s thigh in a soothing apology.
Sam fucked into Castiel’s mouth, one hand caught up in Cas’ hair, the other sitting at the corner of Cas’ mouth, feeling the stretch of lips and skin pulled taut, feeling moisture gather on his bottom lip. He wanted to stick his fingers in there, stretch Castiel’s mouth until it was full, slide home and choke him with cock but the honest to god truth was that Castiel was working some magic with his lips and mouth and tongue and Sam didn’t ever want it to end. Didn’t want anything more in life than to thrust into Castiel’s mouth over and over until he died from how good it felt. But Castiel changed his grip at the base of Sam’s cock, twisted his hand and slid it back and forth in time with the rhythm of his mouth and Sam was lost, lost and gone.
“Cas,” he choked out. “Cas, I’m-”
And Castiel pulled back, worked his hand that little bit faster and he took the first streak of come right in the face, his eyelashes sitting delicately atop flushed cheeks as Sam painted white across smooth skin. And then his mouth was back, swallowing down the second pulse, and the third. Hot, tight noises came from Castiel’s mouth, escaped from around Sam’s cock and his hand on Sam’s thigh was gripping hard enough to bruise. When Sam was spent Cas rested his head against the line of Sam’s hip, shaking and making small, wrecked noises.
“Cas?” Sam ran his hand through Cas’ hair, tilted his head back and saw a face lost in the rapture of orgasm, saw Cas shake and bite back moans as white teeth sank into his swollen bottom lip. Castiel came in his pants on the copy room floor, without even touching himself.
“Cas,” Sam said again as he sank to his knees, got tangled up in Castiel’s limbs as he stripped clothing away. As he kissed hot and messy at Castiel’s mouth, tasted his own come and wasn’t exactly sure why it was so hot, as he put it down to the noises that Cas made every time Sam touched his skin, when his thumb rubbed along Castiel’s cheek, caught the semen sitting there and rubbed it into the flesh, smeared over his face.
“Yes,” Castiel breathed, and Sam had no idea what he was agreeing to but he was willing to go along for the ride. He got Castiel’s pants open, and Cas kicked his sensible black shoes off in response, which was clearly an invitation for Sam to shove his pants and underwear out of the way, to look at the mess of arousal Castiel had made of himself, to stare in hot, coiling wonder as Castiel’s dick started to harden again as Sam wrapped his hand around it, stare at the way Cas threw his head back and keened as Sam started stroking it.
“Is this for me?” he asked, running his fingers through the come smeared around the base of Castiel’s cock, against his inner thigh. “You came like this from sucking my dick?”
“I’m sorry,” Castiel said as he dug his fingers into the short, cheap carpet. “I didn’t-”
“That is so fucking hot, Cas,” Sam said, cutting him off. He dragged his fingers through Castiel’s come, got them slick and then trailed them lower, pressed against Castiel’s opening with teasing touches, slick strokes, made Castiel twist and moan. “You can do this whenever you want,” he said. “Do this all the time. Going to take you home and do this all weekend, paint your whole body with come and kisses.” Castiel moaned, rolling his hips and Sam took that as an invitation to press one finger inside.
“Gonna get you a cock ring,” he said as he tightened his grip at the base of Castiel’s cock, as he twisted his hand and wrung another incredible noise out of Castiel. “Gonna get you all hot and see how long I can make you wait, see how crazy you get before I let you come.” Sam couldn’t believe the shit that was pouring out of his mouth, couldn’t believe the way Castiel writhed beneath him, begged with sounds because he wasn’t coherent enough to form words.
“God, it’s so hot that you’re getting off on this,” Sam said, thrusting that one finger in and out even as Castiel clenched around him, even as his heels planted firmly on the ground beside Sam’s knees, as he thrust up into Sam’s grip, as he came again and kept coming and coming, that beautiful swollen mouth spilling over with moans and pants and a few barely coherent sounds that boiled down to “Yes” and “Please” and “Sam” and “Fuck”, over and over again.
Sam kept his hand moving, as Castiel came and painted streaks of come over his stomach and onto the wrinkled white of his shirt where it was bunched up around his chest. Kept stroking and thrusting his fingers into Cas as he came and kept coming, an orgasm that lasted for minutes, starting with low groans and tightly bunched muscles and teasing out into lost little keening noises and shivers and shudders as Sam drew light fingertips over sensitive skin, as he pressed and teased until Castiel was a whimpering boneless mess, splayed out over scratchy carpet raw and so full of bliss that his eyes were unfocussed and he was a million miles away. And then Sam’s hands and fingers slowed, and Castiel’s gasps became long, slow breaths, inhaling the thick air of the copy room, smelling like ozone from the machines and bleach from the stacks of paper and sex sex sex.
As Sam and Castiel stared at each other, panting and exhausted and somehow still aroused, as they wondered how they were going to get cleaned up enough to get out of the building, wondered exactly what was going to happen next, Sam realised that he was willing to forgive Dean for blabbing at that stupid dinner party.
The teasing had been completely worth it, would be a perfect penance for the things he had planned.