New Beginnings Comment-fic Meme!
First and foremost...
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!Last year was an eventful year here at Team Free Love, and we wanted to give everyone a chance to ring in 2012 with something fun and light-hearted. Something to brighten the cold winter and give us something to smile about as we make our resolutions and honor the passing of 2011. So, we're very happy to ( Read more... )
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!Last year was an eventful year here at Team Free Love, and we wanted to give everyone a chance to ring in 2012 with something fun and light-hearted. Something to brighten the cold winter and give us something to smile about as we make our resolutions and honor the passing of 2011. So, we're very happy to ( Read more... )
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… Well, that was a hardship.
Sam made a sort of huff-growl of protest, because he always complained when Castiel started bossing him around and he always did it anyway, but Dean had mostly tuned him out by then because he was sliding to his knees beside Castiel with Gabriel’s calf and Castiel’s thigh nestled safe between his legs. Gabriel winked at him, breathing just a little too desperately to carry off self-satisfied but making a hell of a good try for it, and Dean stole his hand and smirked and ran his tongue over the knuckles.
Gabriel called him several hurtful names, involving little-known anatomical features of squid.
Dean slid his fingers around Castiel’s upper thigh, coaxing, so Castiel obligingly defended Dean’s honour by doing something non-fraternal with his mouth, which Dean made a note of for later because it looked like the sort of thing Sam would appreciate.
Hey, by anyone else’s standards it was weird as all hell, but honestly, whose standards but their own could ever fit them?
Sam’s jeans were lying in a stiff crumple on the floor around his left ankle, which was braced at an interesting angle that suggested - yes. Dean let his eyes trace the tense line of his calf up to his knee, of his thigh to his groin, to where Sam’s hand was hovering just shy of home base, one thumb flickering hopefully across the tips of wiry brown curls.
Dean pressed his mouth into Gabriel’s ribs, and let it curl lazily into something loose and territorial and easy.
Home. After all, it was only family that made it. Screw mortgages and white picket fences.
Though not apple pies. Apple pies were always home.
Gabriel pressed his hand into the back of Dean’s head and wriggled luxuriously against the table, sliding his shoulders against the cold glass surface. Dean went with the shove for a minute, mouthing obligingly along the line of a rib and up towards a nipple, then he changed direction and slipped downwards, out from Gabriel’s protesting grip, to nip at the line of Castiel’s neck where it hovered over the tense line of Gabriel’s hip.
“You got him?”
Castiel tilted his face up against Dean’s, just for a moment, a soft press like a vow and a butterfly kiss. “Always.”
Well, if there was one thing they’d learned from the Apocalypse, it was that brothers had to look out for brothers.
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Gabriel grabbed the hair at the back of Dean’s head and tugged it up to where he could devour Dean’s mouth like it was a hell of a lot more than two hours since it had last had interesting occupation. Dean indulged him for a hot, delicious minute, until Sam’s breath began to come in pleading little huffs, then he wriggled free as Gabriel shivered.
He tried to tease, he did, but he was maybe just a little bit drunk and feeling kind of sloppy and greedy, and Sam’s thighs were hot and smelt really really good, and hey, he was only human, and who could have resisted chasing the heat and the smell to their source? Anyway, by the sounds coming from behind them, and the way Sam’s breath was coming in little pants in time with Gabriel’s hitched-out moans, Castiel kind of had the whole teasing gig covered.
Because Dean’s was the sneaky sort-of-evil angel, oh yes.
Dean let the edge of his lip catch nice and loose against a ridge of silky slick skin that just happened to be in front of his mouth, then explored it self-indulgently with his tongue. Sam’s hips jerked, his thighs clenching around Dean’s shoulders, which provided several interesting suggestions that Dean was obliging enough to go with, so he paused just long enough to reach blindly behind him and tug demandingly at Gabriel’s hair before he swallowed Sam down in a series of hungry slides. This time he rode out the little involuntary jump, opening up lazy and easy for him as he reached for the bottle that had magically and mysteriously appeared next to Sam on the chair.
It was surprisingly easy to make Gabriel forget how to use words properly, but he had never yet failed to produce lube on demand. Angel perks all the way.
Sam was gasp-laughing now at something Castiel or Gabriel had done, his stomach jumping in little twitches in front of Dean’s nose. So Dean nuzzled at it helpfully, which only made it twitch more, and distracted him with two slick fingers trailing up the back of one leg.
When Sam’s breath broke into a series of pleading shudders, Dean smirked against the inside of Sam’s thigh. “Angel.”
Sam wriggled and pushed into him, a hot blur of confusion and demand. “What?”
Hah, Dean was the sober one. Dean could follow a conversation over whole minutes, even with blowjobs involved. “I killed Zachariah. What’ve you got, Sammy?” He nipped the tender skin right where the curve of the thigh ducked in again to give other dangly sorts of things room, then licked the spot. “Cards on the table, man!”
Sam made a helpless noise, and grabbed at Dean’s hair, which was useless, because unlike others in this room, Dean kept his hair at a sensible length.
“Gabriel.”
The archangel’s voice was a mess already, snatching syllables between those little helpless noises he made that told Dean exactly where Castiel’s fingers were.
“Every day. Slays me. And I am totally on the table. A table.” Dean caught a sudden short, sharp movement out of the corner of his eye, followed by a deep groan echoed between two angels. Gabriel flung a hand out and latched on bruisingly to Dean’s thigh, like he wasn’t sure he could stay on the physical plane without it. “Any table. Pick a table.”
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Sam shoved down, hard, head falling back against the back of the sofa. “You wanna - you wanna play that game, Mr Profound Bond, Soulful Deep Gaze and Taking Three Years To Notice? No offence, Cas.”
“Raincheck,” Castiel murmured, between slick, persuasive shoves into Gabriel’s gasping body, “on the offence.”
Dean just kept laughing, because they could these days, could just lie around and laugh and be completely ridiculous and completely easy together, him on his knees with half his hand buried inside his brother and his angel screwing Sam’s within arm’s reach, all of them kind of drunk and kind of awesome. “You are so in for it, Sammy.”
Sam’s rough-tipped fingers trailed down the back of Dean’s neck, pressed insistently in under his shoulderblade, scratched down his spine when Dean obediently rose up on his knees to meet the challenging curve of Sam’s mouth. “Bring it.”
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Didn't mean to end up doing actual one-on-one wincest there, but hey, Castiel wanted to jump Gabriel, so.
I suppose Cas took his clothes off at some point.
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