fic: Confessions of a Third Wheel (1/2)
Title: Confessions of a Third Wheel
Author: elfladyarwen
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Warnings: language, exhibitionism!kink
Author’s Note: This was written forshayheyred's !everlasting birthday challenge prompt: Cas wants to have sex at the most inopportune and inappropriate moments, like in the middle of a fight. Or In public. Or In front of Sam. Or all three. Happy Birthday, bb! This little funny was also inspired by daggomus_prime's piece of lovely artwork here.
Summary: If Sam has to see his brother and their fallen angel getting their freak on ONE more time...he might do something drastic.
The first time I caught them, I thought I’d somehow been cast into an alternate reality where everything was gross and weird and made no sense at all. It was really the only rational explanation for what I was seeing. Dean doesn’t ‘do’ dudes. Everyone knows this. This is a fact of life that’s more reliable then gravity. Dean is a ladies man and a drifter and a manwhore. He doesn’t do commitments. He doesn’t do experimentations. He doesn’t do anything that doesn’t have mile-long legs and obscenely oversized tits. His world is black and white when it comes to sex. He wants it, he gets it; no touchy-feely crap involved to cloud the issues, no wasting time beyond what it takes to unhook a bra. End of story.
So why then, was my brother stretched out horizontally across the motel bed on his back, naked as the day he was born, being straddled across the chest and sucking down an Angel of the Lord’s cock like it was freaking candy?
Naturally, I was just as confused as you are. All I’d wanted to do was go to the bathroom and wash the grave dirt off my arms; I mean that shit really sticks to you after you’ve been sweating neck deep in a cemetery all night trying to rid the town of its latest ghost problem. If I had known what I was literally walking into, I would have just left it on my skin. Hell, I would have rolled in the stuff.
But I didn’t. I assumed everything was normal. So I opened our motel room door as I would in any normal circumstance. And stumbled onto the giant, horrific, impossible secret that would ruin my life.
*****
You know how sometimes an experience is so traumatizing that you convince yourself it was just a bad dream and eventually it gets buried so far down the layers of psychosis that you really can’t decide whether you made it all up to begin with and sooner or later it just becomes a figment of your imagination?
Yeah. Me neither.
There had been a brief three weeks of peace between our trio from when I got run over by that first gay tanker truck. Three weeks where the rapport went back to normal and we all blissfully ignored reality and continued to bicker and tease and set evil shit on fire as if all was right with the world. I didn’t ask and they weren’t telling, so I figure, what the hell, we’re all adult enough to handle this without it getting weird.
I should have known those fuckers wouldn’t have made it that easy on me.
The second time I caught them in the act, I awoke to a pitch black room full of rough grunts and my first thought is to wonder why there are little animals rutting about in our motel room. Approximately 3.7 seconds afterward, I am horrified to realize the little animals are actually big animals and the big animals are actually Dean and Castiel in the bed right next to me.
When I thought about it later, I actually said a prayer of thanks that the room was so dark at the time of my discovery so the eye-full I got wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it would have been in the light.
Full on, sweat-soaked, passion-crazed bare backing. Right there. Not 5 feet from where I’d been sleeping. They were going at it like rabbits on hands and knees, Cas’ cock so far up my brother’s raised ass, I was sure Dean was about to be split in two. The angel was bent over his back, seeking as much skin on skin contact as could be achieved, left hand digging into Dean’s hip, the right one clamped tightly over Dean’s mouth to muffle the noises of ecstasy being dislodged with each thrust of sharp hips. Hell of a lot of good it did - Dean was moaning like a slut, head thrown back against Cas’ shoulder as he tried to keep up with the angel’s relentless pounding rhythm. I’m guessing Cas had gotten pretty damn good at knowing exactly which angle hammers Dean’s prostate best ‘cause I’d never heard sounds and swears like that from anybody, male or female.
Castiel’s fingers tighten on both locations. He’s growling low and provocative into Dean’s ear, the end of each eerily calm sentence punctuated with a bite to the place where Dean’s neck and shoulders meet. “Shhh, hush now Dean. Do you want to wake your brother and have him find you in this precarious position? Legs spread and begging for me, hmm? Do you want him to know how easily I can make you scream? How easily you submit to me when I fill you like this?”
And that’s it, my ears are bleeding. I launch myself from the bed, falling in an embarrassing tangle of sheets onto the floor in my hurry to get the fuck out. I think maybe Cas looks up long enough to give me a sly leer, but neither one of them pause in their frantic drive toward orgasm.
“Seriously!? You couldn’t have poofed into your own damn room?” I croak with as much indignation as I can muster, pausing only long enough to swipe a pillow from the bed before I storm out.
As I slam the door with enough force to rattle the dingy window, I can hear Dean’s guttural cry of release at my back. Awesome. My complaints now only spur them on. I’m so addled I can’t think straight. I will find a way to make them both pay for this.
That’s the first night of many I end up crammed in the back seat of the Impala.
In the morning, my brother and I have another heated conversation about how it’s not cool to screw the angel while Sam’s sleeping in the next bed over. I’m dismayed to learn this occurs more then I’d originally thought and that Castiel is the one responsible for making sure I don’t wake during their fuck fests and that the blame lies with his failed mojo. We each depart with a black eye, but I have Dean’s word it won’t happen again.
*****
I only got three days before I caught them the third time. The liars.
We were waiting on our breakfast in the greasy diner down the street, with me being the only responsible hunter of the group and actually doing my damn job by wasting no time in researching how to gank the latest monster of the week. The coffee was bitter and tepid and Cas was doing his intense head-tilt stare as he watched Dean stuff as many pancakes into his mouth as humanly possible. I may have dropped in an off-hand joke about the size of Dean’s mouth right about then, but that in no way makes me responsible for the event that took place not 20 minutes later. For the record, I had naively clung to the idea that my brother might actually keep a promise this time. I mean, this is the man who went to Hell for me. He wouldn’t lie to me on this, not when the stakes where so high. Bros before hoes after all, though I feel bad referring to Cas that way ‘cause he’s still my friend even if he is sleeping with my brother. First mistake, Sam, you gullible son of a bitch.
It was early morning, we were tired and on a job and I had no reason to think I was about to be Judas- stabbed by my own sibling. So I don’t think anything of it when Dean excuses (forcefully shoves, whatever) himself from the worn pleather booth to go take a piss. Cas and I continue to chat about the issue at hand, the angel’s advice something I tend to take seriously when it comes to crafty ways of handling impending evil. After a while though, we fall into uneasy silence and I notice his blue eyes keep flicking back towards the restrooms, tensing a bit as if he’s concerned. Dean has been in there a long time, now that I think about it. I raise a questioning eyebrow when Castiel’s eyes meet mine again and he nods, sliding out of the booth on mission to retrieve my brother who is too stupid to know how to use a toilet without falling in.
The overly dolled up waitress makes another coffee round and with a polite smile, I get my refill while waiting for everyone’s return. I go through that cup and half of another before I realize I’ve been sitting here alone for too long to be normal. Did they get abducted or something? I plaster my best irritated bitch-face on and shuffle off to the bathroom, subconsciously looking for signs of demons, just in case I’m about to walk into a trap or something. Can’t really turn off that hunter’s instinct, ya know.
I wish it had just been demons. I wish I’d just said to hell with them and gotten in the damn car and driven away, leaving those guys to fend for themselves. They were in their own little world of voyeuristic crazy sex times. They certainly didn’t need me to keep themselves entertained. In the middle of a public restroom.
Of course, I eventually kicked open the men’s door. Of course, what I was promised would never happen again was happening. I sigh heavily and snap my eyes shut. But it’s way too late. I’ve just gotten my porn fill for the next year in the middle of the dirty, low-lit diner bathroom. “Oh c’mon - I-I didn’t..I wasn’t- really you guys?” I whine, lip trembling in exasperation.
It seriously looks like they just “accidentally” tripped and fell over each other, no time to properly remove their clothes, shaking bodies a single line meshed together from shoulders to hips to thighs. Castiel has gotten shoved slightly up onto the sink ledge with Dean wedged intimately between his legs and they’re rutting against each other, panting and awkwardly trying to kiss whatever skin is exposed within reach. Somehow, Cas has managed to get only one of his pant legs off while still wearing both shoes, his shirt tails twisted up around his chest and the blue tie wrapped aggressively around Dean’s left hand. The right hand is currently busy pumping both men’s cocks simultaneously at a Mach 1 speed. Castiel’s belly is already painted white with splashes of thick come and he moans at the overly sensitive touch still working his empty cock, Dean clearly unwilling to break the contact between them there until he’s finished too. The angel tips forward to press their foreheads together, a hand raking through his lover’s hair and bracing there at the back of Dean’s neck as he murmurs words too low for me to understand. Whatever he says is enough to push Dean over the edge though and he comes so hard, almost bucking Cas into the mirror, that I’d bet money he would have crashed to the floor if not for the angel’s strong arm around his waist, holding him close. Cas’ name is a choked mantra on Dean’s lips, repeated over and over like if he clings to it hard enough, he won’t fall.
I bang my face against the closest wall a few times, hang my head, and shuffle sadly back out of the bathroom, my exit (well hell, my entrance for that matter) going completely unnoticed. Why did I think I had won this battle of wills? When do I ever win?
I hold up a palm to ward off an old bald guy trying to squeeze past me on the outside of the door. “It’s occupied. And my brother’s gonna be in there for a minute. Trust me sir, it’s bad. Enough to make you gag.”
The old guy’s rhumey eyes go wide in horror and he nods his thanks before waddling away.
*****
By the forth time, I declared it was getting completely out of hand. I usually pride myself on being the patient, sympathetic one of the group, but I was starting to get real pissy at this point. It was almost like they specifically plotted this, waiting until I had no choice but to catch them at it. Every other second, they bickered and quarreled, me joining in most of the time, like they’d never had each other’s dicks in forbidden orifices. It was a complete mind fuck. I couldn’t take my eyes off them for a second and was beginning to have Dean/Cas nightmares. I entertained the idea that maybe they were laughing at my pain behind my back. I entertained the idea that maybe they were trying to make me as paranoid as possible, having to wake myself up every few hours or so, no matter where I slept to make sure passionate gay sex wasn’t going on around me. The selfish bastards.
There we were, outside of Benton, Kentucky at some seedy little gas station that had been dead for a couple of months at least. It’s not like we had that much further to go. I mean, we’ve been on the road for 29 hours with only an hour and a half to go and they can’t even wait that goddamn long.
It wasn’t an interstate or anything, but 4 or 5 cars had whizzed past just in the time it had taken me to pick the lock inconspicuously on the front door, slip inside and do a quick scan of the abandoned merchandise. So who knows how many unsuspecting travellers nearly swerved off the road before I’d made it back out with a bag full of supplies.
I’m still sorta dumbfounded as to how they managed to get into that position so fast.
Castiel’s hoisted up against the passenger side door, his jackets and white shirt open and exposing his pale chest which is absolutely heaving beneath Dean’s. My brother’s got him pinned there with his thighs, hands furiously skimming everywhere at once over the angel’s body; tousled hair, lust-darkened face, tightened nipples. Cas’ grip on Dean’s bicep and hip has to be hard enough to leave bruises. Their kisses are sloppy and poorly aimed but they’re each too concerned about unbuckling the other’s belt to notice. Cas gets ahold of Dean’s earlobe and worries it between swollen red lips, whispering something there that has Dean shifting back and slamming the angel back against the Impala hard enough to rock it.
“God, you have a filthy mouth,” I hear Dean snarl as pants are being shucked hastily to knees and ankles. Hands are moving south to frantically palm already-leaking erections and there’s not even time for me to squeak in protest before Dean’s spitting into a hand and lowering it out of sight line. Then Cas is locking his legs around my brother’s waist and clinging on for dear life. No, no! Nonononono. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when I have no escape route! “Oh goddamn it! Knock it off, you guys. Everybody can see you! We don’t have time for this,” I protest to deaf ears. I sorta flail my arms for a minute, unsure of whether I should just like... throw something at them to break their concentration.
I actually wince when Dean bottoms out in one super quick thrust because even though Cas’ head slumps back against the car with a thud audible over his moan, I’m thinking that has to burn like hell. Dean must have been thinking the same thing cause he’s slipping a hand between their tangled bodies again, wrapping a wet fist over Cas’ straining cock and stroking him fast as a distraction from the initial pain of being so roughly impaled.
A beige Toyota skids violently into the opposite lane as it passes and I have a fleeting glimpse of the driver’s slack-jawed face. I feel you, dude. Just be grateful you only got two seconds worth of an eye-full. Instead of months worth of this nonsense.
“Fuck, Cas. You’re so hot like this,” Dean gasps against the chapped lips of the angel grinding hard to sheath Dean’s cock deeper inside him. “Dean, harder. Harder. I need you to- Please.” Their pace increases to a speed that can only be described as ‘jackhammering’ and I find myself feeling sorry for our poor car, who I highly doubt wanted to be part of this abusive lovemaking. Most of all, I feel sorry for myself. I’m a relatively good person. A good brother, at very least. I don’t deserve this. I clamp my hands over my ears to try to block the sound of skin slapping against skin and the wrecked grunts of two men animalistically close to blowing their load all over and in each other. I feel like crying from all the betrayal going on here.
And fuck it, I have no choice but to sprint at life-threatening speed around the corner of the building and let them finish. ‘Cause of course, Dean has the damn car keys.
“We thought you’d take longer getting the supplies,” was all I got in way of an explanation, when I yelled at Dean afterward.
*****
I broke down and straight up asked what the fuck was going on after the fifth time, which consisted of some particularly slurpy road head given in the Impala... with me trying to sleep in the back seat. I wanted to give my brother the benefit of the doubt, wanted to think that maybe he was honestly in the dark about how lax he and Cas were in hiding their…whatever. I wanted to think that he wouldn’t purposely do this to me, couldn’t purposely be that cruel.
Dean had grinned sheepishly while doing an awkward, piss-poor job of trying to explain how Cas actually got off from having someone watch them. The best I could decipher from his blushes and his muttering was it wasn’t so much about voyuerism, as it was possession. Angels apparently mate for life (eternity, whatever), so getting freaky with Dean in public was a blatantly disturbing way for Cas to stake his claim. It was a way of ensuring that nobody, angel, human or otherwise would ever touch Dean because he belonged to a supernatural being in a trench coat that didn’t like the idea of sharing. Public sex was Castiel hanging a big ‘Property of Castiel: BACK OFF’ sign around my brother’s neck. Which I guess could be interpreted as sorta sweet, but mostly it was a realization that made me want to douse my brain with another round of bleach. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t really care who Dean hooked up with. I didn’t care that his partner was a divine-fueled, gender ambiguous, winged being who crossed the species and dimension boundaries whilst living in a stolen human man’s body. I just wanted Dean to be happy. And, since whatever this thing with Cas was, was obviously working for him, I was happy for them too. But surely, surely there was a way for Castiel to do his dominance ritual without having to subject the poor, innocent little brother to the full (and terribly graphic) extent of their relationship. Surely this constant exposure to dicks was intentional. I mean, nobody sees that much man sex on accident.
I politely informed him that I understood, but if it happened again while I was around, I was going to key every inch of the Impala.
Part II
Author: elfladyarwen
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Warnings: language, exhibitionism!kink
Author’s Note: This was written forshayheyred's !everlasting birthday challenge prompt: Cas wants to have sex at the most inopportune and inappropriate moments, like in the middle of a fight. Or In public. Or In front of Sam. Or all three. Happy Birthday, bb! This little funny was also inspired by daggomus_prime's piece of lovely artwork here.
Summary: If Sam has to see his brother and their fallen angel getting their freak on ONE more time...he might do something drastic.
The first time I caught them, I thought I’d somehow been cast into an alternate reality where everything was gross and weird and made no sense at all. It was really the only rational explanation for what I was seeing. Dean doesn’t ‘do’ dudes. Everyone knows this. This is a fact of life that’s more reliable then gravity. Dean is a ladies man and a drifter and a manwhore. He doesn’t do commitments. He doesn’t do experimentations. He doesn’t do anything that doesn’t have mile-long legs and obscenely oversized tits. His world is black and white when it comes to sex. He wants it, he gets it; no touchy-feely crap involved to cloud the issues, no wasting time beyond what it takes to unhook a bra. End of story.
So why then, was my brother stretched out horizontally across the motel bed on his back, naked as the day he was born, being straddled across the chest and sucking down an Angel of the Lord’s cock like it was freaking candy?
Naturally, I was just as confused as you are. All I’d wanted to do was go to the bathroom and wash the grave dirt off my arms; I mean that shit really sticks to you after you’ve been sweating neck deep in a cemetery all night trying to rid the town of its latest ghost problem. If I had known what I was literally walking into, I would have just left it on my skin. Hell, I would have rolled in the stuff.
But I didn’t. I assumed everything was normal. So I opened our motel room door as I would in any normal circumstance. And stumbled onto the giant, horrific, impossible secret that would ruin my life.
*****
You know how sometimes an experience is so traumatizing that you convince yourself it was just a bad dream and eventually it gets buried so far down the layers of psychosis that you really can’t decide whether you made it all up to begin with and sooner or later it just becomes a figment of your imagination?
Yeah. Me neither.
There had been a brief three weeks of peace between our trio from when I got run over by that first gay tanker truck. Three weeks where the rapport went back to normal and we all blissfully ignored reality and continued to bicker and tease and set evil shit on fire as if all was right with the world. I didn’t ask and they weren’t telling, so I figure, what the hell, we’re all adult enough to handle this without it getting weird.
I should have known those fuckers wouldn’t have made it that easy on me.
The second time I caught them in the act, I awoke to a pitch black room full of rough grunts and my first thought is to wonder why there are little animals rutting about in our motel room. Approximately 3.7 seconds afterward, I am horrified to realize the little animals are actually big animals and the big animals are actually Dean and Castiel in the bed right next to me.
When I thought about it later, I actually said a prayer of thanks that the room was so dark at the time of my discovery so the eye-full I got wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it would have been in the light.
Full on, sweat-soaked, passion-crazed bare backing. Right there. Not 5 feet from where I’d been sleeping. They were going at it like rabbits on hands and knees, Cas’ cock so far up my brother’s raised ass, I was sure Dean was about to be split in two. The angel was bent over his back, seeking as much skin on skin contact as could be achieved, left hand digging into Dean’s hip, the right one clamped tightly over Dean’s mouth to muffle the noises of ecstasy being dislodged with each thrust of sharp hips. Hell of a lot of good it did - Dean was moaning like a slut, head thrown back against Cas’ shoulder as he tried to keep up with the angel’s relentless pounding rhythm. I’m guessing Cas had gotten pretty damn good at knowing exactly which angle hammers Dean’s prostate best ‘cause I’d never heard sounds and swears like that from anybody, male or female.
Castiel’s fingers tighten on both locations. He’s growling low and provocative into Dean’s ear, the end of each eerily calm sentence punctuated with a bite to the place where Dean’s neck and shoulders meet. “Shhh, hush now Dean. Do you want to wake your brother and have him find you in this precarious position? Legs spread and begging for me, hmm? Do you want him to know how easily I can make you scream? How easily you submit to me when I fill you like this?”
And that’s it, my ears are bleeding. I launch myself from the bed, falling in an embarrassing tangle of sheets onto the floor in my hurry to get the fuck out. I think maybe Cas looks up long enough to give me a sly leer, but neither one of them pause in their frantic drive toward orgasm.
“Seriously!? You couldn’t have poofed into your own damn room?” I croak with as much indignation as I can muster, pausing only long enough to swipe a pillow from the bed before I storm out.
As I slam the door with enough force to rattle the dingy window, I can hear Dean’s guttural cry of release at my back. Awesome. My complaints now only spur them on. I’m so addled I can’t think straight. I will find a way to make them both pay for this.
That’s the first night of many I end up crammed in the back seat of the Impala.
In the morning, my brother and I have another heated conversation about how it’s not cool to screw the angel while Sam’s sleeping in the next bed over. I’m dismayed to learn this occurs more then I’d originally thought and that Castiel is the one responsible for making sure I don’t wake during their fuck fests and that the blame lies with his failed mojo. We each depart with a black eye, but I have Dean’s word it won’t happen again.
*****
I only got three days before I caught them the third time. The liars.
We were waiting on our breakfast in the greasy diner down the street, with me being the only responsible hunter of the group and actually doing my damn job by wasting no time in researching how to gank the latest monster of the week. The coffee was bitter and tepid and Cas was doing his intense head-tilt stare as he watched Dean stuff as many pancakes into his mouth as humanly possible. I may have dropped in an off-hand joke about the size of Dean’s mouth right about then, but that in no way makes me responsible for the event that took place not 20 minutes later. For the record, I had naively clung to the idea that my brother might actually keep a promise this time. I mean, this is the man who went to Hell for me. He wouldn’t lie to me on this, not when the stakes where so high. Bros before hoes after all, though I feel bad referring to Cas that way ‘cause he’s still my friend even if he is sleeping with my brother. First mistake, Sam, you gullible son of a bitch.
It was early morning, we were tired and on a job and I had no reason to think I was about to be Judas- stabbed by my own sibling. So I don’t think anything of it when Dean excuses (forcefully shoves, whatever) himself from the worn pleather booth to go take a piss. Cas and I continue to chat about the issue at hand, the angel’s advice something I tend to take seriously when it comes to crafty ways of handling impending evil. After a while though, we fall into uneasy silence and I notice his blue eyes keep flicking back towards the restrooms, tensing a bit as if he’s concerned. Dean has been in there a long time, now that I think about it. I raise a questioning eyebrow when Castiel’s eyes meet mine again and he nods, sliding out of the booth on mission to retrieve my brother who is too stupid to know how to use a toilet without falling in.
The overly dolled up waitress makes another coffee round and with a polite smile, I get my refill while waiting for everyone’s return. I go through that cup and half of another before I realize I’ve been sitting here alone for too long to be normal. Did they get abducted or something? I plaster my best irritated bitch-face on and shuffle off to the bathroom, subconsciously looking for signs of demons, just in case I’m about to walk into a trap or something. Can’t really turn off that hunter’s instinct, ya know.
I wish it had just been demons. I wish I’d just said to hell with them and gotten in the damn car and driven away, leaving those guys to fend for themselves. They were in their own little world of voyeuristic crazy sex times. They certainly didn’t need me to keep themselves entertained. In the middle of a public restroom.
Of course, I eventually kicked open the men’s door. Of course, what I was promised would never happen again was happening. I sigh heavily and snap my eyes shut. But it’s way too late. I’ve just gotten my porn fill for the next year in the middle of the dirty, low-lit diner bathroom. “Oh c’mon - I-I didn’t..I wasn’t- really you guys?” I whine, lip trembling in exasperation.
It seriously looks like they just “accidentally” tripped and fell over each other, no time to properly remove their clothes, shaking bodies a single line meshed together from shoulders to hips to thighs. Castiel has gotten shoved slightly up onto the sink ledge with Dean wedged intimately between his legs and they’re rutting against each other, panting and awkwardly trying to kiss whatever skin is exposed within reach. Somehow, Cas has managed to get only one of his pant legs off while still wearing both shoes, his shirt tails twisted up around his chest and the blue tie wrapped aggressively around Dean’s left hand. The right hand is currently busy pumping both men’s cocks simultaneously at a Mach 1 speed. Castiel’s belly is already painted white with splashes of thick come and he moans at the overly sensitive touch still working his empty cock, Dean clearly unwilling to break the contact between them there until he’s finished too. The angel tips forward to press their foreheads together, a hand raking through his lover’s hair and bracing there at the back of Dean’s neck as he murmurs words too low for me to understand. Whatever he says is enough to push Dean over the edge though and he comes so hard, almost bucking Cas into the mirror, that I’d bet money he would have crashed to the floor if not for the angel’s strong arm around his waist, holding him close. Cas’ name is a choked mantra on Dean’s lips, repeated over and over like if he clings to it hard enough, he won’t fall.
I bang my face against the closest wall a few times, hang my head, and shuffle sadly back out of the bathroom, my exit (well hell, my entrance for that matter) going completely unnoticed. Why did I think I had won this battle of wills? When do I ever win?
I hold up a palm to ward off an old bald guy trying to squeeze past me on the outside of the door. “It’s occupied. And my brother’s gonna be in there for a minute. Trust me sir, it’s bad. Enough to make you gag.”
The old guy’s rhumey eyes go wide in horror and he nods his thanks before waddling away.
*****
By the forth time, I declared it was getting completely out of hand. I usually pride myself on being the patient, sympathetic one of the group, but I was starting to get real pissy at this point. It was almost like they specifically plotted this, waiting until I had no choice but to catch them at it. Every other second, they bickered and quarreled, me joining in most of the time, like they’d never had each other’s dicks in forbidden orifices. It was a complete mind fuck. I couldn’t take my eyes off them for a second and was beginning to have Dean/Cas nightmares. I entertained the idea that maybe they were laughing at my pain behind my back. I entertained the idea that maybe they were trying to make me as paranoid as possible, having to wake myself up every few hours or so, no matter where I slept to make sure passionate gay sex wasn’t going on around me. The selfish bastards.
There we were, outside of Benton, Kentucky at some seedy little gas station that had been dead for a couple of months at least. It’s not like we had that much further to go. I mean, we’ve been on the road for 29 hours with only an hour and a half to go and they can’t even wait that goddamn long.
It wasn’t an interstate or anything, but 4 or 5 cars had whizzed past just in the time it had taken me to pick the lock inconspicuously on the front door, slip inside and do a quick scan of the abandoned merchandise. So who knows how many unsuspecting travellers nearly swerved off the road before I’d made it back out with a bag full of supplies.
I’m still sorta dumbfounded as to how they managed to get into that position so fast.
Castiel’s hoisted up against the passenger side door, his jackets and white shirt open and exposing his pale chest which is absolutely heaving beneath Dean’s. My brother’s got him pinned there with his thighs, hands furiously skimming everywhere at once over the angel’s body; tousled hair, lust-darkened face, tightened nipples. Cas’ grip on Dean’s bicep and hip has to be hard enough to leave bruises. Their kisses are sloppy and poorly aimed but they’re each too concerned about unbuckling the other’s belt to notice. Cas gets ahold of Dean’s earlobe and worries it between swollen red lips, whispering something there that has Dean shifting back and slamming the angel back against the Impala hard enough to rock it.
“God, you have a filthy mouth,” I hear Dean snarl as pants are being shucked hastily to knees and ankles. Hands are moving south to frantically palm already-leaking erections and there’s not even time for me to squeak in protest before Dean’s spitting into a hand and lowering it out of sight line. Then Cas is locking his legs around my brother’s waist and clinging on for dear life. No, no! Nonononono. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when I have no escape route! “Oh goddamn it! Knock it off, you guys. Everybody can see you! We don’t have time for this,” I protest to deaf ears. I sorta flail my arms for a minute, unsure of whether I should just like... throw something at them to break their concentration.
I actually wince when Dean bottoms out in one super quick thrust because even though Cas’ head slumps back against the car with a thud audible over his moan, I’m thinking that has to burn like hell. Dean must have been thinking the same thing cause he’s slipping a hand between their tangled bodies again, wrapping a wet fist over Cas’ straining cock and stroking him fast as a distraction from the initial pain of being so roughly impaled.
A beige Toyota skids violently into the opposite lane as it passes and I have a fleeting glimpse of the driver’s slack-jawed face. I feel you, dude. Just be grateful you only got two seconds worth of an eye-full. Instead of months worth of this nonsense.
“Fuck, Cas. You’re so hot like this,” Dean gasps against the chapped lips of the angel grinding hard to sheath Dean’s cock deeper inside him. “Dean, harder. Harder. I need you to- Please.” Their pace increases to a speed that can only be described as ‘jackhammering’ and I find myself feeling sorry for our poor car, who I highly doubt wanted to be part of this abusive lovemaking. Most of all, I feel sorry for myself. I’m a relatively good person. A good brother, at very least. I don’t deserve this. I clamp my hands over my ears to try to block the sound of skin slapping against skin and the wrecked grunts of two men animalistically close to blowing their load all over and in each other. I feel like crying from all the betrayal going on here.
And fuck it, I have no choice but to sprint at life-threatening speed around the corner of the building and let them finish. ‘Cause of course, Dean has the damn car keys.
“We thought you’d take longer getting the supplies,” was all I got in way of an explanation, when I yelled at Dean afterward.
*****
I broke down and straight up asked what the fuck was going on after the fifth time, which consisted of some particularly slurpy road head given in the Impala... with me trying to sleep in the back seat. I wanted to give my brother the benefit of the doubt, wanted to think that maybe he was honestly in the dark about how lax he and Cas were in hiding their…whatever. I wanted to think that he wouldn’t purposely do this to me, couldn’t purposely be that cruel.
Dean had grinned sheepishly while doing an awkward, piss-poor job of trying to explain how Cas actually got off from having someone watch them. The best I could decipher from his blushes and his muttering was it wasn’t so much about voyuerism, as it was possession. Angels apparently mate for life (eternity, whatever), so getting freaky with Dean in public was a blatantly disturbing way for Cas to stake his claim. It was a way of ensuring that nobody, angel, human or otherwise would ever touch Dean because he belonged to a supernatural being in a trench coat that didn’t like the idea of sharing. Public sex was Castiel hanging a big ‘Property of Castiel: BACK OFF’ sign around my brother’s neck. Which I guess could be interpreted as sorta sweet, but mostly it was a realization that made me want to douse my brain with another round of bleach. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t really care who Dean hooked up with. I didn’t care that his partner was a divine-fueled, gender ambiguous, winged being who crossed the species and dimension boundaries whilst living in a stolen human man’s body. I just wanted Dean to be happy. And, since whatever this thing with Cas was, was obviously working for him, I was happy for them too. But surely, surely there was a way for Castiel to do his dominance ritual without having to subject the poor, innocent little brother to the full (and terribly graphic) extent of their relationship. Surely this constant exposure to dicks was intentional. I mean, nobody sees that much man sex on accident.
I politely informed him that I understood, but if it happened again while I was around, I was going to key every inch of the Impala.
Part II