Slight Weapons Malfunction

rrrowr:

(x)

Castiel had always assumed that taking Sam inside him would be a bit overwhelming, but he hadn’t thought — he hadn’t known, not like this. Not with the blunt pressure of Sam’s cock easing into him or the slick drag of it back out. It pulls sounds out of him that he hadn’t thought himself capable of making, sounds that he wouldn’t be aware of making in the first place if his eyes weren’t locked on the way Sam is biting on his lower lip.

It’s alarming how he can feel simultaneously exposed and utterly safe — that it’s okay that he feels ready to burst, that it’s okay that the way Sam’s cups his foot to hold him open makes him shake — because it’s Sam around him and above him.

Yet these things are nothing in the wake of how he also feels taken, rooted to this nest of pillows and sheets. Sam is inescapable here. He’s all that Cas can smell, all he can see — an immovable wall of flesh and blood that only presses closer when Cas splays a hand across his breast.

Sam is in Cas’ lungs, on Cas’ skin — he’s inside Cas’ body, and with a choked cry, Castiel pulls Sam against him. They’re locked together, trapped together. Imprisoned.  

He never, ever wants to be set free.