Sam and Uriel Make a Bet
"This is so many levels of wrong," muttered Sam weakly, as he watched his brother's limbs slide through Castiel's with sinuous, careful movements.
Dean and Castiel were interlocked in a careful jigsaw of legs, torsos and arms, strips of flesh bared in tantalizing flashes as the pair twined around eachother, their bodies touching at least five points (that Sam could count or see) as they curved towards and over one another. Both Dean and Cas were pressed flush, skin like glue and clothing damp and sticking in spare space between their bodies, sultry with their combined heat.
His brother's breathing was slow and heavy as the two continued to tie themselves together like a human knot, pushed so close it was almost as if each one was trying to slide into the other's skin; Sam could see the fine hairs at the nape of Dean's neck stir with each of Castiel's slow exhalations.
Somehow, Sam knew he shouldn't be watching this, let alone betting on it. The way that the angel and his brother were entwined and splayed together, was intimate without modesty or apology. It made Sam feel a bit like an incestuous voyeur.
Dean twitched, and a noise that sounded like a moan caught in the grip of a grunt, was pulled up his throat. His muscles trembled with exertion as he shifted, one of his thighs sliding between Castiel's. In response, Cas loosed a low, restrained hiss of air, spreading his fingers and leaning his weight against his palm to ground himself.
Sam blushed involuntarily and glanced at the brooding angel who stood next to him, a tiny, self-assured smirk toying about the set of his lips. "You cannot win this wager, Sam Winchester," intoned Uriel, and with complete confidence. "Castiel has far more stamina, not to mention more discipline than your brother." Uriel was shameless as he looked at Dean and Castiel, now twisted in such a way that Dean's lips were all but pressed along the underside of Cas' jaw.
Sam immediately rose to the jibe, his embarrassment immediately forgotten. A wave of annoyance washed through him at Uriel's insult towards his brother. "Dean has way more experience doing this!" he snapped as he turned towards the swarthy angel, who in turn tore his attention away from Dean and Castiel to regard him fully. Sam snickered, a corner of his mouth tugging upwards into a mocking grin. "This is Castiel's first time, after all."
A brief look of righteous indignation passed through Uriel's eyes, but all he did was carefully fold his arms and return his attention to the two tangled bodies before them. "You will find that Castiel is a fast learner. He will easily outlast your brother, in the end. Dean will be beneath him in no time."
Sam grit his teeth at Uriel's smug tone and glared at him. "Yeah, we'll see about that," he muttered, jaw set in determination. Sam looked at the board in his hands and flicked the black plastic arrow. "Dean, right hand to green!" he practically barked, his competitive edge taking over. "Don't fail me now!"
Dean merely groaned in response and shivered as he slid his arm over Cas's back, blindly seeking out the green circle with his right hand. He bit his lip and hoped to god that Castiel didn't notice the shape of his remorselessly hard, denim-trapped cock pressing against the angel's hip.
Castiel, for his part, did notice, but decided he didn't mind all that much. Perhaps he and Dean should play this game ('Twister', Dean had called it) more often, and perhaps without the benefit of an audience. And perhaps too, with decidedly less clothing.
A moment later, Dean finally managed to find the green circle with his hand. Dean sucked in a shuddering breath, tucking his chin as he turned his face slightly and stared at Cas from beneath the thick fringe of his eyelashes. Castiel saw that Dean's pupils were wide and black, with only the barest ring of green showing in his irises. Dean's breath was hot and ragged in his ears, and when Castiel turned in kind to regard him, Dean's nose grazed his cheek.
Involuntarily, the skin of Castiel's vessel swilled out with heat, as a hot spike of something shot through him, making his stomach clench with sudden and urgent need.
Definitely with less clothing next time.
(The End.)