Title: Nothing has changed.
Category: Supernatural
Pairing: Castiel/Balthazar
Warnings: MxM (gay) pairing, as well as spoilers for Seasons 6, episode 3
Mere hours ago, he had learned that Balthazar was alive and in the brief span between the unexpected discovery and this moment he had thought of almost nothing else. The name alone, upon first hearing it, echoed with memories and brought into sharp focus a void within him that he had been loath to even acknowledge. He had buried it, as he thought he had buried his comrade, somewhere sacred and unreachable within himself. There was no time to mourn in the midst of civil war nor did he have the luxury of hoping this could end any differently than the countless other confrontations. Had Castiel slept, his nightmares would have mirrored life in heaven: another one of his brothers unwilling to listen, forcing him to fight for his life, a clash of two juggernauts colliding like lightning and fire, then a blinding white light and the scorched impression of black wings etched forever into the earth. It was the last thing he wanted—the last person he'd ever seek to harm. Yet beneath his rumpled trench coat he had concealed his angels' blade and a bottle of holy oil, prepared to set it ablaze in a ring around his brother's feet to assure himself a captive audience. He'd needed some way to keep the impossible prick from disappearing and leaving him with a maelstrom of questions. He wouldn't be left again.
But the oil felt more apt to ignite now than it had when his thumb was poised to flick the flame up from the borrowed lighter at a moment's notice. The viscous liquid surrounded him and he could no more escape it now than when it was Lucifer himself who had ensnared him. The trap was a desperate frenzy of tangled limbs, the immediate threat was his own overpowering, visceral, damning desire, and the heat surging around him was Balthazar.
It happened before they'd spoken a word, although the fallen angel had mentally rehearsed a perfectly convincing opening monologue so riddled with charm and sarcasm he had hoped to circumvent emotion altogether. Balthazar was, after all, an expert in fallacies, rhetoric, and avoidance. However, this line of defense crumbled as soon as he caught sight of those blue eyes from across the room, intense and penetrating even though his face betrayed little expression without them. Instantly, he panicked, sacrilegious thoughts racing through his head as Castiel's lips parted in their tentative, questioning way and his roguish smile faded.
The trench coat was on the floor, pooled around their feet before they even collided. Cas rushed to Balthazar and his coarse hands grabbed the stiff material and yanked it down over his shoulders, almost stopping him at first, but ultimately pulling their vessels as close together as possible as Castiel's hands slid over the rough stubble and arrested his brother's jaw, claiming his mouth with a bruising kiss. It was an act he had never had occasion to perpetrate in a human body and the myriad of sinful sensations had his blood roaring through his veins.
There was no more expressionless façade and no more deflection under the guise of humor. Both angels tore through the other's clothing; shredding suit jackets and scattering buttons on the hardwood floor as they tumbled recklessly onto Balthazar's lavishly appointed bed. Neither took the time to appreciate the silk and velvet crushed beneath them, finding it imperceptible next to the feeling of skin on skin. Balthazar raked his fingers through the short dark hair and bowed his head to jealously reclaim his brother's throat from the knotted tie and white collar formerly occupying the territory, exploring the hard, lean body poised above him and enticing Castiel further, dreading that after the uncharacteristically explosive overture he'll hear that gruff voice whisper "we can't" or "I shouldn't have" or worse yet "I'm sorry".
But no such protest came, only a muffled curse in Enochian as Cas let the holy oil drip down their stomachs and lubricate their aching erections as he dragged his hips up and down slowly, kissing the recumbent angel's strong shoulders. Conflicting emotions began to manifest themselves in the act itself as Castiel started slowly, hesitant as he explored uncharted territory he had been taught was, in no uncertain terms, wrong. He prodded against his brother's tight hole, making him moan and squirm beneath him. The pornographic sound brought a flush of heat and color to his cheeks and with a hitched breath he stilled there, frozen on the precipice with his eyes locked onto Balthazar's waiting for his permission.
The angel turned thief growled, arching his back with none of Castiel's reservations. He had been shocked by the impulsive act, but caution wasn't in his nature he grabbed at the other angel's angular hips, half begging, half demanding,
"Please Cas—fuck me…"
Solemnity pervaded the raspy response as the gravity of the sin he was about to commit weighed on the Castiel's conscience.
"Forgive me father" came the soldier's panted prayer, croaked low and heavy in that unmistakable voice his brother hadn't heard in too long and for an instant Balthazar felt a pang, as though he had somehow been the aggressor here, but then it dawned on him.
The stoic pragmatist hadn't been seduced or lost his head to lust. Cas had chosen disobedience all over again: chosen to rebel to have him. Balthazar's revelation was drowned out by the husky sound of his own name being moaned from the depths of Castiel's chest as he thrust into his brother, cutting short the flickering reverie and plunging them both into the grip of their baser senses.
Balthazar had spent his time on earth well, learning to enjoy humanity; food, liquor, sex, but this was unlike anything he'd felt with any other man or woman. The hot invasion ripped through him from the moment Cas's hard cock slid inside him, leaving him gasping for breath and clawing at his brother's arms, his eyes clamped shut. Then, as tangibly as he'd felt the flood of heat forced into his writhing body, his sweat-damp skin prickled with the cool caress of rushing air.
He forced his lust-glazed eyes open and looked up gasping at Castiel, who had straightened up over him and taken a firm hold of Balthazar's trembling thighs. The angel's massive black wings had fluttered open: the glossy onyx feathers extended behind him imposingly, large enough to touch either wall if he'd expanded them to their limits. In the center of that outstretched span of shadowy black, his smooth, pale torso rippled into each punctuated thrust, every muscle taut as he pounded into the tight heat.
"Perfect," Balthazar thought, almost breathing it aloud as he wrapped his legs around his lover's waist, bucking his own hips and pulling Cas in deeper, and he was: for all the battles he'd fought, there wasn't a single wound or scar on the blue-eyed angel's skin. Each had simply been washed away by his grace, but when Castiel's head fell back with a jagged pant and his eyes rolled skyward, something about the pristine canvas and the way that even now his brother seemed to look to heaven not at him, incited Balthazar to leave his mark. His greedy hands climbed the unscathed back, took hold of Cas urgently, and dug into the twin points where the enormous wings joined his vessel's shoulder blades.
Castiel arched and cried out, the surge of pleasure very nearly unraveling him as he doubled over and met Balthazar's gaze once again, their bodies parallel and rubbing against one another zealously. It had been ages since anybody had touched his profoundly sensitive wings. Neither of the Winchester boys could even see them, but his inveterate companion ran his fingers expertly through the silken feathers, ruffling them tenderly and tracing the delicate bone structure until Castiel literally whimpered.
Balthazar's flat stomach tightened as he lifted his upper body to kiss the edge of the wing, half expecting them to start beating when Cas shuddered again and angled his hips sharply. The jerky thrust drove the pressure of Castiel's grinding into his brother's prostate and sent a powerful current through him. Drowning in the air, he bit down on the wing joint, intent on leaving the imprint bone deep as his own trapped erection throbbed, then threw his head back with a distinctively pleasure-torn breathy sound, eyes sex-blown wide.
"Balthazar—" he protested gruffly, grunting and hilting his cock so completely inside his brother that what he meant as a warning melted into a choked moan of ecstasy, nearly screaming in pain in the midst of it. As the other angel's muscles contracted and pulsed around him, Castiel's vision went white and the line between pain and pleasure dissolved—everything dissolved. Balthazar came in hot, thick stripes between their stomachs and Castiel pumped his seed into the incarnate earthquake moaning beneath him. Unable to control his vessel or contain his grace, the room shook violently and the glass of every window and light bulb shattered with their release, leaving them both in the dark, steeped in oblivion.
The two angels laid there struggling for breath and blissfully dizzy with exhaustion under the cover of Castiel's wings, which he had drawn up around them, determined to block out all stimuli. The heat radiating from their intertwined bodies and labored breaths thickened the air in the dark enclosure until the smell of sex was flavored with a mutually understood tension. Their history was worming its way in through the soft feathered down and the inevitability of words hung in the space between their lips. It was Balthazar who spoke first, his tone at once both starkly candid and familiarly warm as he trailed his fingers down his brother's arm.
"As far as I'm concerned, you and me Cas? Nothing's changed."