omg where to begin. Okay.
HI EVERYONE! Welcome to my entry to the 2016 Rare Pair Big Bang. This is my first major writing challenge, and oh boy has it been a doozy! I had the idea to do a Dean/Cas/Jimmy baseball AU last fall, and when I heard about the RPBB I knew *exactly* how things were going to go, but getting this all written has taken me months and is a piece of why I've gotten nothing else posted in a while. I almost didn't finish in time! (seriously, I finished the first draft at a eleven last night...)
For my regular readers who've been wondering where the heck I am and didn't peak at the short I posted a couple weeks ago...I had a baby boy! He was born on March 16th and, uh, he's distracting. :) And amazing. I'm back at work now, though, so I have time to write there undisturbed, so expect regular updates on stuff once again. :)
For this story, I was paired with powerbottomsammywinchester as my artist. She's been awesome from start to finish, enthusiastic that I was working on a sports AU, encouraging, and very patient when real life got in my way more than I ever expected. :)
The wonderful profoundfall helped me out with beta services, but due to my own challenges getting done *the last four chapters aren't beta'd.* Any and all mistakes are all mine, got it? :) (and you should totally read her stuff and encourage her to post more. Cause she's awesome.)
So. How many of y'all are poking at this and wondering, "well, crap, I like unforth's writing but I don't know anything about baseball! What should I do?" Worry not! I have planned for this contingency. Originally, this author's note was going to be chuck-full with the basic rules of the game, but when I started to write up a description I realized...baseball is *way* more complicated than I thought it was. I guess when you grow up watching something so much that you just *know* how it works, you don't recognize just how much knowledge goes into that. Cause make no mistake: I am a HUGE baseball fan. My team is the NY Mets and I have been to dozens of games lives and watched hundreds on TV over the years.
There's really not room for me to give you guys all the ins and outs of baseball, or even the very basics. I recommend googling "rules of baseball" and checking out the Wikipedia article on the topic for an overview, if you're really concerned.
All that said...I think this story will be entirely understandable even if you don't know anything about baseball. At least, I sure hope it will be! :)
A few notes:
1. Again, you might want to read the rules of baseball. Note that the version posted on FFdotnet is NOT annotated. If you'd like to read the annotated version, you'll have to go to AO3.
2. There are minor elements of RPF in this story. I have replaced the usual players from the Washington Nationals with characters from Supernatural but I left every other team in the league alone (there are just too many players for me to use only SPN characters). As such, numerous real baseball players are mentioned, and some do things that significantly impact events. I did NOT do extensive research on some of those people so let me say upfront: ANY ACTION I HAVE A REAL PERSON TAKE IN THIS STORY IS NOT MEANT TO REFLECT ON THEM AS, YA KNOW, AN ACTUAL HUMAN BEING. I cast real players into the roles I needed them to play. Treat them as fictional versions of themselves, period.
3. There is explicit Castiel/Jimmy, Jimmy/Dean, Castiel/Dean, and Castiel/Jimmy/Dean in this story. There is no explicit Sabriel, though.
4. The bulk of this fic was written before the 2016 baseball season began. As such, team standings, real players used, etc., do not reflect the real events of 2016. They represent "best guesses" from information available during the off-season.
...I'm probably forgetting a ton of things. I've been thinking about this author's note for like months but still. Remember - if you have questions about baseball, or anything else, feel free to ask! :)
No major warnings.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester; Jimmy Novak/Dean Winchester; Castiel/Jimmy Novak; Castiel/Jimmy Novak/Dean Winchester; Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Characters: Castiel; Jimmy Novak; Dean Winchester; Anna Milton; Bobby Singer; Sam Winchester; Gabriel (Supernatural); Rufus Turner; Jo Harvelle; Charlie Bradbury; Benny Lafitte; Alfie (Supernatural); Andy Gallagher; Aaron Bass; Victor Henriksen; Gordon Walker; Alan J. Corbett; Jake Talley; Scott Carey; Harry Spangler; Adam Milligan; Edgar (Supernatural); Garth Fitzgerald IV; Kevin Tran; Calvin Reidy; Max Miller (Supernatural); Kubrick (Supernatural); Chuck Shurley; Crowley (Supernatural); Becky Rosen; Cain (Supernatural); Josie Sands
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Sports; Baseball; Top Castiel; Switch Dean; Switch Jimmy; Incest; Twincest; Castiel and Jimmy Novak Are Twins; Blow Jobs; Anal Sex; Anal Fingering; Angry Sex; Light Dom/sub; Under-negotiated Kink; Rough Sex; Sex Toys; Light Bondage; Light Masochism; Light Sadism; Age Difference; Celebrity Dean; Celebrity Castiel; Celebrity Jimmy; Pitcher Castiel; Catcher Jimmy; Catcher Dean; John Winchester's A+ Parenting; POV Dean Winchester; POV Castiel; Gay Dean; Bisexual Castiel; Bisexual Jimmy; Coming Out; Elements of RPF; Supernatural Rare Pair Big Bang 2016; Slow Burn; Pining; Fluff and Angst; Happy Ending; Dean Whump; Protective Castiel; Protective Jimmy; Castiel Whump; Castiel is an asshole; Double Penetration; Barebacking
Chapter 1
"Tell them he declines the offer." Castiel's voice was measured, calm; he had a lifetime of practice at hiding his perturbation when he was upset. If an opposing hitter knew they were getting to him, they'd take advantage, throw him further off-kilter and next thing he knew he'd throw a hard fastball down the middle and have to watch the damn thing sail out of the park. Manager Milton knew him too well to be fooled, and her raised eyebrow and half-frown showed her skepticism and irritation.
"It's not up to you," she said firmly.
"Jimmy has a no-trade clause," insisted Castiel. "He'll never agree to this move."
"He already has."
"What?" Castiel must have misheard or misunderstood. Numb, he met her green-eyed gaze steadily. Get it together, Novak. The past is irrelevant, all that matters is the next pitch. "He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't do that without talking it over with me first."
"He would and he did," said Milton. "Inviting you to this meeting was a courtesy, Novak. We wouldn't even bother talking to you about another player's trade if you weren't our ace. I appreciate that Jimmy has been your dedicated catcher since you were in Little League, but he's holding you back. For two years, the coaching staff has tried to get it through your head that we cannot spare a bench seat to accommodate your brother. If you weren't so damn stubborn, we wouldn't have had to handle things this way. This is for the best for Jimmy's career and for yours. Further, we've been trading and recruiting specifically with you in mind. When you report for Pitchers and Catchers in February, there'll be a dozen catchers vying for the chance to work with you. You should be flattered."
"I should be flattered," Castiel echoed flatly. Milton nodded, brushing impossibly red hair from about her thin face. Five years into being manager of the Washington Nationals and she still got away with murder during the Winter Meetings because the old boys club assumed she didn't know what she was doing. Castiel could be sure that the catchers she acquired during the past two weeks of haggling and negotiation would be the best the league had to offer – not only old veterans, but also up and coming talent with potential in spades, much like Castiel himself. He'd been the MLB's token wunderkind during his rookie year in '13, one of Milton's first success stories. Jimmy's career hadn't gone as well; the Nationals preferred strategies didn't favor Jimmy's weak hitting or fleet feet. In his heart, Castiel knew that Jimmy would do better elsewhere, but it didn't matter. Castiel couldn't pitch without his brother behind the plate. In his entire career he could count the number of games he'd played with any other catcher and all had been memorably disastrous.
"Why would Jimmy agree to this?" he demanded. He barely kept himself from adding you know I can't pitch without him.
"You'll have to talk to him about that," was Milton's no-nonsense reply. "That's not why I asked you here." Her lavish hotel room, decorated in shades of cream and green, was a scene of ordered chaos: the coffee table was a tangle of laptops and cords used by the analysts crunching Sabermetrics for her, the desk held her computer and a pile of folders and flash drives, the pillows on the couches were in disarray, and the garbage overflowed with empty take out containers. Ignoring the mess, Milton walked to the desk and grabbed a flash drive that, to Castiel's eye, was indistinguishable from the others. "Here are dossiers on all of the available catchers in our organization. I expect you to read these, talk to Singer, and arrive at Pitchers and Catchers with a game plan for evaluating all of them to determine which you'd prefer to work with."
"What, so you can trade him away too?" Anger leaked through with the words and Castiel forced himself to talk a calming breath. This was the nature of the game. He'd always known something like this could happen. He'd thought that being named the team's ace, being second in the Cy Young voting for the previous year, would exempt him. Apparently, he wasn't so valuable as he'd come to believe.
"Look, Novak," she said in clipped, impatient tones. "We get 25 guys on our roster, period. You're a damn good pitcher but that doesn't mean you get to have two of those slots all to yourself. Jimmy was no use to anyone on this team – himself included! – except for you. All of these guys are catchers with great potential and they fit in with our strategy going forward in the 2016 season. Do you want to have a great win-loss ratio, or do you want to help this entire team make it to the World Series? If you're going to throw a hissy fit over this we can find a new pitcher. You wouldn't believe the offers I've gotten for you."
"I wouldn't leave the Nats," he growled. The press loved to paint Castiel as selfish, aloof, more interested in furthering his own stats and earning awards than helping his team. It was bullshit, but every time he got angry about it to their faces, he only made things worse. Jimmy said he wouldn't leave either…
"Pick a catcher," she advised, aggressively stepping into his space, herding him towards the door. She forced the flash drive into his hand. "We'll talk in a few weeks."
Turning on a heel, Castiel stormed from the room. He was furious with Milton, furious with Jimmy, furious with Coach Singer and his agent Gabriel and his parents and with every damn person who ever gave him a hard time for being most comfortable pitching to his brother. Pocketing the flash drive, he hurried down the deserted hallways and made for the lobby. He was furious with the press, the members of which would make a gauntlet between him and the parking garage, all determined to ask if he was at the Meetings because a trade was coming. Sure enough, as soon as he stepped off the elevator flashbulbs burst and a cacophony of overlapping voices shouted questions at him. Security guards stepped up to surround him and help him through the mess while he stared hard anger and defiance at every camera that got in his face. He knew exactly what the media and fans would make of his anger when news of Jimmy's trade came out. God damn he was mad at his brother. How dare he?
Castiel was furious with himself. As he escaped the crowds, made it to the relative sanctuary of his car, and started the motor, it was all he could do not to bang his head against the steering wheel. Only the knowledge that it would take only one paparazzi spotting that to make his life hell for a year restrained him. Jimmy hadn't even come to Castiel about this. Sure, that said loads about Jimmy, but what did it say about Castiel, about how Jimmy perceived Castiel, about how everyone perceived him? The person he was closest to in the world didn't feel comfortable coming to him before making a major, life-changing decision that affected them both. As Castiel got on the highway, heading towards the home he and Jimmy shared – or had shared, he supposed; with Jimmy going to the Braves, he'd need a place in Georgia instead – he couldn't but wonder what he'd done to prompt Jimmy to such an action without even talking it over first.
"Yo, bro!" Jimmy's voice called brightly from the kitchen as soon as Castiel arrived home. The cheerfulness grated, felt like a lie, helped redirect Castiel's anger outward. So, Jimmy was happy to get away from him? Jimmy was excited to move on? "How'd things go?" Grinding his teeth, Castiel pulled his shoes off, shucked his jacket, and stood paralyzed in their beautiful entrance foyer trying to figuring out what the fuck he was supposed to do now. Polished hard wood, white washed walls and gleaming marble mocked him. They'd started with nothing, playing Little League in the suburbs, their family solidly middle class, earning enough to be comfortable but not enough for luxuries. They'd stuck it out through high school and college ball, always together even when things got rough. They'd managed to get signed to the minors together, when their parents couldn't support them anymore and they made so little money that they shared a tiny studio and lived on ramen noodles and wondered if they'd manage to even get a cup of coffee in the majors. And they'd been put on the starting roster together in 2013, gotten real contracts together, earned their first million together and gotten their first pennant together. They had all the money they could want now, plenty for their parents, plenty for their siblings, plenty for their friends, plenty left for investment and charity. It had always been them, together, never just Castiel, never just Jimmy. They'd even chosen the house together.
Jimmy stepped into view at the far end of the airy room, dark hair streaked with white that, judging by the powdery stains on his t-shirt, must be flour, his expression fixed in a broad smile, eyes tense and worried. Had he been like that when Castiel left? Had he just not noticed? The smell of fresh-baked cookies wafted in and Castiel's stomach flipped with nausea.
He's not just leaving the Nationals, he's not just leaving Washington, he's leaving me, he's leaving me alone. What did I do wrong?
"Do you want a cookie, Cassie?" Jimmy asked with more false happiness. Castiel glared at him and had the gratification of watching Jimmy's performance slip. His brow furrowed and his lips tensed into a tight line. "Come on, have a damn cookie at least."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"We can have this conversation in the living room…or the kitchen…" Jimmy tore away, turned, started to walk deeper into the house.
"Jimmy, why didn't you tell me?" Castiel snarled. Jimmy froze, shoulder's twitching with tension. "I had to find out from Milton? When the whole thing was already set and done? What the fuck?"
"We thought it would be for the best," said Jimmy meekly.
"We? There's someone else, now? Someone you told before me? Have you been cheating on me, too? Wow, this is one hell of a break up, Jimmy, no point doing things by halves I guess!" Castiel's shouts echoed off the dome of the ceiling; he could swear his anger caused the crystal chandelier to tinkle.
"What?" Jimmy turned on him, shocked, and crossed to stand before him. "Fuck, no! Of course not! I love you, Cassie, this doesn't change that! I just meant Gabe and Sam and I – when we got the offer, we talked it over, and we thought…this is why we did it! You're overreacting! You always overreact to shit like this. All my life, everything I've done has been to forward your career, and I was happy to do it, but your career is getting on like a house afire. You've gotten the chance to show how good you can be. I just want the same chance! I'm tired of being Castiel Novak's brother. I'm tired of commentators knowing so little about me that they call me James. You've got yours, Cassie, are you going to begrudge me mine?"
"Jimmy, you didn't even tell me you were thinking about something like this!" Too angry to keep still, Castiel stalked across the room and got in his brother's face. "You just assumed I'd overreact! You didn't even give me the chance to have my own opinion on the matter and now I'm the one being unreasonable?"
"I appreciate that you're angry—"
"You're damn fucking right I'm angry," Castiel slammed his fist into the door frame beside Jimmy's head, ignoring the horrified look Jimmy gave him.
"Cas...that's your…that's your pitching hand…what are you…"
Overriding his stammering protests, Castiel roared in his brother's face, "Fuck baseball, Jimmy. Fuck pitching and catching and all that shit. You're my brother, you're so much more than my brother, and what, you think so little of me that I don't even warrant a fucking text message warning me that you're getting traded and moving to Atlanta? How can you think I'd ever have held it against you if you wanted a shot on your own? How long have you known without telling me? This morning? Last night when we made dinner? Two days ago when we went to the movies? A week ago when you joked about getting me a ring? When exactly did we start living a lie?"
"Three days," whispered Jimmy. His tone suggested he was cowed but there was nothing in his body language or expression to match. Red-faced with anger, eyes narrow, lithe form rigid, Jimmy met Castiel's eyes, both pairs identically blue as every feature on their faces was identical, his hand shaking at his side. "You…you would have supported me? You really think that? I had no idea you were that delusional."
"Jimmy—"
"No, you're going to fucking listen to me for once, Cassie." Jimmy answered rage with rage. "Every time, every single damn time I've suggested going my own way, you've shot me down. Always so reasonable, Cassie, always so many good reasons why we should do things in a way that just happens to coincide to precisely what you want. I get that you don't think you can pitch without me but it's bull, you're going to be fine once you get out of your own head about it. I've been trying – everyone has been trying – to get you to see that. And when you wouldn't…this is the best offer I've ever gotten, to play on a team where I'm wanted, play on a team where I'm needed. You're right – it was wrong of me to make such a big decision without consulting you – but you're dead fucking wrong if you think you'd have heard me out. You haven't heard me yet!"
"I always listen!"
"Have you smelled the shit you're shoveling?" demanded Jimmy. "What about last year when I got that offer from the Yankees?"
"That was a lousy deal," Cassie snapped. "You thought so too! There was no way you had a shot at the starting day roster. You'd have been stuck in the minors again and living in fucking Scranton."
"Oh, and the one from LA?"
"You said you didn't want to live on the West Coast!"
"No, Cassie, you said that, which is funny since no one was asking you to live on the West Coast!" Exasperated, Jimmy wheeled and headed deeper into the house, leaving Castiel standing, seething, his aching hand pressed to the door frame.
"And now you're going to walk away?" he shouted after his brother.
"What's there to say?" Jimmy called back. "I appreciate your self-righteous anger, it's completely in character. Congratulations. You're pissed. Do you want a fucking medal? And you're right. In other circumstances, I should have talked it over with you, but you've clearly got no fricken cluehow impossible you are to talk to when you think you know best. Like, say, right now."
Castiel drew a long, slow breath, let it out a little at a time. It was a strategy he'd learned when he was frazzled on the mound, helped him center himself, helped him push away extraneous thoughts and focus on the moment, focus on the task at hand. Jimmy certainly thought he was speaking the truth, he truly believed that Castiel was unreasonable, selfish, self-centered, vain. God, that hurt. Castiel thought Jimmy was amazing. Gathering himself, quelling his anger as best he could, Castiel reluctantly made his way down the hall, following his hunch that Jimmy had returned to the kitchen. Sure enough, Jimmy stood at the stove, atop which two racks of cookies were cooling. The room smelled divine, cooked chocolate and caramelized sugar and risen flour combining to create perfection. Jimmy made awesome cookies, most often when he felt guilty about something. Watching him silently, idly rubbing at his throbbing knuckles, Castiel's heart ached. The fact that they were identical twins was irrelevant, Jimmy was beautiful in a way Castiel never saw in himself – confident, generous, dedicated, incredibly hard-working. Once Jimmy set his mind to a task, he succeeded. If not for his drive, Castiel doubted either of them would have ended up in the majors. And now he was leaving. Castiel would go to practice every day alone, stretch alone, pitch to some stranger, eat lunch alone, jog and exercise alone, meet with Coach Singer alone, drill with his teammates alone, drive home alone, eat dinner alone, go to sleep alone.
He wasn't sure if he should scream in fury or crumple to his knees to weep out his broken heart.
"I'm sorry, Cas," muttered Jimmy, not turning around.
"I know you are," Castiel replied sadly. He longed to cross the miles separating them but couldn't bring himself to do so. Jimmy fussed over the cookies, though everything that might actually need attention was already done – ingredients away, dishes washed, counters clean. "When do you leave?"
"I was thinking right after Christmas," Jimmy said, poking a cookie with a spatula. "I don't want to ruin the holidays, but I'll need time to get a place in Atlanta, and somewhere to stay during spring training, and I'd like the opportunity to get to know my teammates before we start playing together." God, they're also Grapefruit League. In two months I'll be playing against him. Jimmy turned to face him, expression resolute though his eyes swam with tears, holding a cookie on a spatula.
"That makes sense," said Castiel, making no attempt to appear energetic or enthusiastic. The cookie was shoved directly under his nose. It smelled great and he hesitantly took a bite. Rich, half-melted chocolate and slightly under-cooked dough flooded his mouth deliciously. "They're good."
"Made your favorite," Jimmy gave him a weak smile. Anger and betrayal still screamed rage through Castiel's thoughts, but he forced himself to move past it. Simmering was a terrible approach to pitching and a habit that Castiel had worked hard to break. He'd be angry for a long time to come, he was sure, but if they only had a couple weeks left he wouldn't let how upset he was ruin that any more than he'd let an costly error screw up how he approached the next batter.
Any more than I let a six run deficit convince me it's the end of the game? There's no coming back from this…
"I don't want you to go," Castiel mumbled. Jimmy grimaced, moved the cookie, leaned forward and brushed a kiss against Castiel's lips.
"It doesn't have to be the end…" suggested Jimmy hopefully.
"Why don't we share hotel rooms for away games? Why don't we get meals just the two of us during the season? Why did we get the house fenced and gated?" Castiel could keep going, listing all the precautions they'd taken over the years to ensure that no one, not teammates or coaches or members of the press or scouts or fans, found out their secret, but his point was made. Jimmy's face fell. "Maybe it's for the better."
"We are kind of codependent." Jimmy managed a wry smile that didn't touch his eyes and pressed a second kiss to Castiel's mouth, sucking on a spot of chocolate that had caught at the corner of his lips. Wrapping an arm around Jimmy's shoulder, Castiel opened to the kiss, teased at Jimmy's tongue with his own, slotted their bodies together perfectly. Both had tried to be with other people but it never worked. No one else fit them. No one else matched them. There was nothing like the feeling of Jimmy's body mirroring his when they drew close. The spatula and cookie clattered to the floor as Jimmy surged against him, embraced Castiel tightly, kissed him with passion, an apology behind every brush of their lips. Instead of calming Castiel further, it enflamed him, reminded him of all the reasons Jimmy should apologize to him.
He's abandoning me, leaving me alone, breaking up with me, breaking my heart…
Failing to suppress a growl at the back of his throat, Castiel snagged Jimmy's lip between his teeth and bit hard. Jimmy chuckled, tore away and murmured, "Mad at me, Cassie? Gonna punish me?"
"Fuck you, Jimmy," he snapped, digging into the flesh of Jimmy's muscular shoulder hard enough that the next day his grip would show in a series of bruises. He wished he could tattoo them into Jimmy's skin. Wherever Jimmy went, whatever team he played for, it wouldn't change that his brother belonged with him.
"I sure hope so," huffed Jimmy with another laugh. Jimmy's husky voice, his fervent kisses, the hard, muscled plains of his lean body, all of them went straight to Castiel's head, the heat of arousal combining with the heat of anger to drive him wild. There was something to Jimmy's tone that infuriated Castiel, gave him a sneaking suspicion that Jimmy had planned all along to soothe Castiel's anger with more than cookies. Steeling his grip on Jimmy's shoulder, Castiel spun his brother away, forced them apart, twisted Jimmy's arm behind his back and slammed Jimmy's chest hard against the kitchen table. "If that's what you wanted, all you had to do was ask." Jimmy was still laughing, breathy, as he locked his knees to shove his finely curved ass up and out. And Castiel did want his brother, God help him, wanted him no less for how angry he was, wanted him no less for knowing it would be over soon. He'd wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jimmy, had always wanted there to be no one else, but that was impossible, would always be impossible.
It is for the best, it is.
Castiel held Jimmy down with one arm and used the other to pull Jimmy's pajama bottoms down. A plug stood out mat black against Jimmy's pale skin, confirming Castiel's hunch that Jimmy had anticipated their fight culminating in sex. Castiel's anger flared hotter, but so did his desire. Achingly hard in his jeans, constrained and uncomfortable, Castiel undid his fly, freed his cock, rubbed it against the cleft of his brother's ass as Jimmy reached back for him awkwardly. They fit together so well, on the field, in the bedroom, intellectually and physically. Why would Jimmy ruin that? Why would Jimmy take that away?
Jimmy doesn't want us anymore, doesn't want me anymore…I'm going to make sure he never forgets, though.
Certain it would hurt, wanting it to hurt, Castiel grabbed the base of the plug and ripped it free of Jimmy's hole to reveal the wetness beneath, the pink stretched pucker. Jimmy gasped, back arching, but Castiel tightened his grip on Jimmy's arm, used his other hand to grab Jimmy's neck and press him hard against the table. They'd done this a hundred time, a thousand; Castiel didn't need a hand to line himself up or to press his cock into his brother's body. Moaning, Jimmy strained against Castiel's powerful control, pressed his hips back against the hardness filling him. The familiar pressure of being enveloped by Jimmy's body felt glorious, felt normal on a day when nothing was fucking normal. His eyes slipped shut, and though he'd hoped the feeling would soothe his spirits, instead it reminded him of how much he wanted this, how soon he'd be losing it. Pressing Jimmy hard against the table, he drew his hips back, snapped them forward, basked in the satisfaction of pleasure and dominance and Jimmy's strained cry.
They were physically matched normally, similarly strong, similarly dexterous, but Castiel was pissed and couldn't bring himself to care if he hurt Jimmy, while Jimmy was contrite and willing to surrender to Castiel's control. He twisted Jimmy's arm back and filled him hard and fast, reveling in Jimmy's tightness and his moans. They'd experimented in the past with bondage and domination games; with the emotional cocktail swirling through Castiel's mind, he wished he had ropes to bind Jimmy's arms, clamps for his nipples, a ball gag for his mouth, a paddle for his pert ass. Spurred on by the thought of Jimmy crying out, choking on Castiel's cock, swearing to never fucking leave as long as Castiel would keep taking care of him, Castiel slammed himself into Jimmy's body relentlessly, a brutal pace from the first stroke, as fast as his hips would pivot. It felt glorious, Jimmy writhing around him, the muscles of Jimmy's channel clenching and unclenching, moans and broken pleas leaking from his mouth. The pace was exhausting, forcing grunts from Castiel at every stroke, pleasure bursting through him each time.
"Cas," Jimmy gasped desperately, straining hard against Castiel's grip. With a guttural snarl, Castiel leaned closer, used his arms and chest to hold Jimmy against the unforgiving wood of the table, and sank his teeth into Jimmy's shoulder so hard that his brother howled. The new angle let Castiel drive in deeper, made it easier for him to go faster still, short strokes that dragged the tight outer ring of Jimmy's asshole over the base of Castiel's cock over and over again.
"Just fucking shut up, Jimmy," he growled, biting again, nipping again, forcing blood to the surface of Jimmy's tanned shoulder. "Mine – you're mine – fuck, why are you leaving? Dammit!" Jimmy's fingers scrambled uselessly at the wood of the table, his breaths quick as Castiel's hold on him prevented him from getting enough air. Nonetheless, his hips met each stroke, ensured that Castiel stayed buried in his ass, ensured that Castiel hit his prostate over and over. The tension building in Jimmy's body was unmistakable, tightening him around Castiel, pushing them close to the edge.
"Touch me, please," the words blurred together as Jimmy forced them out in a rush. "Please, please, please, please, please…"
"No," snarled Castiel. "You are gonna come…on my fucking cock…or you're not going to come at all."
"Cassie!" Castiel pulled out slowly, slammed in as hard as he could. Jimmy fucking screamed, the sound delicious, pushing Castiel to do it again, again, his self-control fading, his climax coming on fast. He felt the exact moment when Jimmy snapped, his hips bucking back, his body clenching tightly around Castiel; Jimmy sobbed bliss against the table, and Castiel heard the splash of come hitting the kitchen floor. It was so deliciously filthy, so carnal, such a visceral demonstration of the pleasure he gave his brother that it pushed him over the edge, and Castiel came, thrusting desperately, crying out wordlessly.
Release drained Castiel of passion, of arousal, of anger, of everything except the pain of knowing that this would be one of the last times they would be together. His knees gave way and he slumped to the floor despite the chill of the tiles. Jimmy slid down beside him, breathing hard, expression dazed, and fell into Castiel's arms.
"I'm sorry, Cas, I'm so sorry."
"Please don't go," Castiel whispered helplessly, unable to bring himself to move even enough to embrace Jimmy and bring him closer. What was the point? They had weeks left, only weeks.
"I'm sorry," the words poured from Jimmy, repeated as a litany, scarce interrupted by Castiel's plea. "Sorry, I'm sorry." Jimmy scrambled to hold him, wrapped his arms around Castiel's shoulders and wept into the side of Castiel's face and his dark hair. "I'm so sorry. If I'd tried to talk to you about it, I would have stayed, I would have stayed forever, but we can't. I'm sorry. This is going to destroy us if we don't stop. I'm sorry."
"I love you, Jimmy." A single tear rolled down Castiel's cheek and he scooped an arm beneath Jimmy's ass to pull his brother into his lap. "But I don't know if I can forgive you for this."
"I didn't think you would," Jimmy whispered. "I'm sorry, Castiel. I love you."