Title: Castiel's Kiss
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Sam Winchester, Castiel; SamCas/Samstiel/Sassy whatever you call it
Spoilers: Season 4 I guess
Warnings: language, smut, GAY (mmyay)
Word Count: 1,500
A/N: This is a gift for the lovely Hana who is motherofsenpais over on tumblr. Seriously, she's wonderful. Also, I seem to be cursed to write one shots in the odd half an hour I have free, like this one. It's a bad habit I need to break. First time writing Sastiel, unbeta'd blah blah, a review would be amazing you hot thang, yeah, I'm looking at YOU
Kissing Castiel was pretty much one of the only perks in his life.
Well, that and fucking him, being fucked in return. Not a lot went right in Sam's life, to be fair.
Kissing Castiel… it was so simple an act, yet it held more sway over him that even demon blood ever had. It released a sensation in him, so like a drug, which cooled his blood and stilled whatever fires raged within. If the taint of a demon was hellfire itself, then Castiel was surely love and grace, crisp and icy, glacial and purifying.
It stung, when Sam reached down, thumbing the turn of Castiel's jaw, running hands down his throat, his chest, feeling the slow passion that sank through his fingertips, the overflow of grace even Castiel could not control. Castiel slowly tasted Sam in return, making his tongue numb with the clean feeling of mountain air, iodine and rosemary. Eager for more, Sam pulled in Cas' fuller lips between his own, the give not feminine at all, not plush and soft but dry and firm, so much a mirror to his own.
For an angel, Castiel was wicked with his tongue, tracing the hard ridges of Sam's palette with the very tip as matching hands roamed to entrench themselves in the warmth of his hair. Sam kissed down his jaw, stubble scraping, burning his lips in that most gorgeous way as Castiel moved closer, bracing his knee against the wall behind Sam between his legs, frozen brick digging in through his suit pants. He paid it no heed; pain to an angel was unimportant, doing little more to whet his appetite for the burning human beneath him.
'This time is mine, now,' he murmured, slowly pulling at Sam's hair, letting him feel the power he alone could wield over the youngest Winchester.
Sam didn't reply but nodded, sucking at the small patch of skin near Castiel's Adam's apple.
'Inside or out is your only choice, Samuel,' said Castiel, his lids drawing heavy as Sam began to trace the line of his collar. He answered by reaching a hand down to palm Castiel's arse, drawing him closer still till they met, belly to belly, against the cold outdoor wall of the bar.
'Outside,' breathed Sam into the crook of Castiel's neck, knowing the angel could hear him, 'Take me out here.' Shit, he would've felt girly at any other time saying something like that. He wasn't Dean, defender of macho masculinity for men in mandom till the very end, even as he was taking it in the rear for some two-bit hooker, but even Sam had a semblance of respect for his Y chromosome. Yet, around Castiel, he was nothing. He would stoop to bow, felt honoured enough to be graced by the presence alone of such a powerful ancient being. It was humbling and conversely, dizzyingly ennobling seeing those otherworldly eyes follow him, mark his steps wanting him. A lesser man would be drawn deep into the depths by the strength of such a being, lost in his light as a match lit at noonday. But, as Castiel reminded him, as he turned Sam's head to stare fiercely into his eyes and soul, Samuel Winchester was no lesser man.
Castiel's lip curled with pleasure, shining gaze connecting them loosely but infallibly as steel cord, the electric tug beneath it luring Sam to move in towards Castiel's mouth for more. Castiel smiled at that, leaning away from the gesture. It was a dark thing, his smile, much too heavy for someone so holy, colouring his grace-sting with a blackened hint of lust at his neck where Sam still had a hand. The smile didn't reach the angel's eyes. He tipped his head slightly. A moment passed, liquid and weighted.
He moved then, pushing Sam down and manhandling him till he was sprawled on the concrete and Castiel was kneeling on top of him, the taut line of Sam's throat angled back catching in the yellowed light. Castiel bared his teeth, not wasting time in diving to the exposed skin at Sam's collar as he pulled at the opening in Sam's jeans, the button flicking away into shadow. He was vicious as he rode Sam into the ground, the tearing push and tug of his hungry lips bruising Sam's flesh and eliciting an animalistic sound from the human. When Castiel's frantically searching hands finally reached the centre of Sam's urgency he moaned, trying with all his might to pull Castiel down to drive them together.
Castiel growled, ignoring his surging hips, instead twisting that which he had in his hand so deftly, leaving Sam arching more towards the angel, towards that blessed source of utterly wrecking rapture.
'Is this heaven to you, Sam?' said Castiel, his gentian eyes shuttered, voice deep in his throat at the sight of the one beneath him. 'To feel the touch of grace upon your skin –' Sam's breath stuttered, shards of sensation roiling and fracturing through his nerves, ' –the taste of such a thing so foreign and to have me doing such things…' He continued to croon a litany of beautiful words, pouring them though the ears of his treasured human where it filtered down to his soul and settled, stirring the deepest of feeling there. With a hand splayed over Sam's thrumming heart he stayed, pinning Sam's legs closed with his own where they longed to fall open, limbs spread and moving with the passion of the moment. But Castiel would not allow such a thing. His vessel was as surely responsive as any mortal body, but he ignored his own need in favour of feeling Sam come undone. That was his rapture, his gift. It was like destroying a dam; once the first barriers had come down, he was little more than desperate pleas to be touched, more, harder, oh please, Cas.
A stroke through the hair was something the angel consented to, dipping down to cradle Sam's head on the freezing concrete, his face a mere hair's breadth away from Sam's. His eyes were luminous despite the sooty night, and he relished in the warm breaths of air, pants of desire from Sam at the angel observing him so objectively while doing that with his other hand against his clothed stomach.
'What shall I say, Sam, to tip you over the edge this time?' said Castiel softly as he fingered Sam beneath, friction igniting sensation, cruel in its holy burn. Sam had to bite his lip to keep from groaning to that. The ground was cold, and damp, biting into Sam's back, but he paid it no heed—he had one more thing that he shared with Castiel in his perception of pain and how it threaded with pleasure. And far be it from a Winchester to complain of a small hurt.
Try as he might, Sam Winchester was only human however, and prolonged exposure to such treatment could only be borne so long. In the end it was Castiel's mouth that ended his climb, capturing Sam's own into a rough kiss at an uncomfortable angle. But it was that delicious slide of tongue and teeth and that rosemary-bitter taste seizing his senses that had him spilling with a stuttering cry which bubbled from his throat and was swallowed by Castiel's eager lips. He jerked in Castiel's hand, viscous white calcimining his shirt and coat.
He came back to himself with his head in the angel's arms, soft and lazy kisses lacing his cheekbones. The cold held no sting under Castiel's caress, and that unconscionable voice which constantly prickled in the outermost corners of his soul had been silenced for the mean time.
'Did you…?' mumbled Sam, waving his hand in the direction of Castiel's unattended desire. He wanted to do more, to reciprocate, but Sam's lashes grew so heavy in the safety of the haven that was Castiel.
'In the fullness of time, I will also,' came the gentle reply. 'The night is not over yet, Sam,' Castiel continued, his voice dropping fractionally deeper with untempered emotion, so rare in the angel. Two soft pads touched to Sam's forehead, and he felt himself in a suddenly much more comfortable space. Angel-travel was never his favourite, but a back alley would not serve their purpose, not tonight.
Sam breathed relief at the comfort but, more than that, he turned towards the light. It was nigh imperceptible, about Castiel aureole and faint, but most assuredly there. Sam had never thought the light was a place he was allowed to dwell within, but Castiel had taught and Sam had learnt. And ever was he glad for that.
Perhaps it was true that few of things of worth happened in Sam Winchester's life. It was a Hunter's life after all, dogged by blood, and death, and more misery than most. But maybe it was worth the pain of it all for that singular blessing of Castiel's kiss.