Title: Not Exactly a Burden
Author: HigherMagic
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel/Samandriel
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~3000
Warnings: spanking, D/s,
Summary: Samandriel has needs that Castiel can't satisfy, so he turns to a friend for help.

The room feels too loud, itching along Castiel's skin, but his attention is raptly fixed on the scene in front of him. He's known Dean for years, they've been friends for as long as Castiel can remember, but he can't quite imagine taking the easy-going, protective man he's known almost all his life and slotting him into the roll he's playing now.

The cause of this scene, the reason they're both here, now, is currently bent over Dean's lap, naked, slim wrists caught in one of Dean's large hands, pale skin deliciously reddened along the nape of his neck and underneath where Dean's other palm rests against his ass.

Samandriel, Castiel's boyfriend, his shoulders gently shaking and Castiel's name a broken sob coming out of his throat.

It aches something inside of him, something he can't quite name. He's not sure if the lust he's feeling is for Samandriel's state, or the man that put him there – he knows he's never gotten pleasure out of seeing Samandriel cry, but his boyfriend's pretty blue eyes are so wide and bright now, blond hair matted with sweat, hard cock hanging down between his legs and subtly rutting against Dean's thigh.

He looks gorgeous.

Dean is put together as he ever is, apparently unaffected by the pretty sub writhing in his lap aside from the bulge in his jeans that Castiel can't help but notice, sitting where he is so that he can see. His usual cheer and almost lazy demeanor is gone, replaced instead by an unwavering strength and control that makes Castiel's mouth go dry.

He looks gorgeous, too.

It had started with Samandriel, needing something Castiel had no will to give him. He's forceful enough in bed, leaves marks and bruises and is willing to fuck Samandriel to within an inch of his life at the slightest provocation, but he can't stand the thought of his boyfriend in legitimate pain: pain which, apparently, Samandriel needs.

Dean's eyes flick to his, knowing smirk that looks so familiar and foreign at once stretching his mouth wide. "How does he look, Cas?" he asks, tone soft and fond, rubbing his palm down the cleft of Samandriel's ass, and Castiel marvels at how Samandriel sobs softly and arches his hips up into a touch that must surely sting.

Castiel swallows, dry-mouthed and hoarse. "I don't like seeing him cry," he admits, biting his lower lip when Samandriel whines, but doesn't turn to face him; 'No looking, little bird,' Dean had said. 'Not until I say you can'.

Dean's smile softens into something more genuine. "Some people crave it, Cas," he replies, his hand leaving Samandriel's red skin and rubbing into the dip of his spine, soothing and gentle. It contrasts so harshly with the hard smacks he'd heard merely a moment before that Castiel feels dizzy and light-headed. "He knows he can safe word at any time, but he hasn't. And he won't – not if you learn to read him right."

Castiel swallows, but finds he can't refute that. Ever since he had led Samandriel into Dean's spare room, comfortable-looking but sparse, Dean had taken control of the situation with an ease Castiel couldn't help but envy. He'd known how to touch Samandriel as though a manual was written onto his skin, gave him a nickname that made him smile and made him make noises that Castiel knew from experience meant he was enjoying himself.

Samandriel's fingers ripple and flex where they're clenched around Dean's other forearm, braced across his back; 'Just let go and I'll stop, little bird, I promise'. Since Castiel had told him that Samandriel had trouble vocalizing when they got into it, Dean had given him that out instead. It was delightfully, genius and simple, and again Castiel had to wonder just how his best friend had managed to keep this kind of thing a secret for so long. Dean belongs in this situation, in control and put together with a pretty little thing squirming in his lap.

Castiel's eyes dart to his boyfriend's red face, licking his lips at the shine of tears. Samandriel's upper lip is curled back, teeth bared, eyes clenched tightly shut. He's close – fuck – if Dean makes him come just from spanking Castiel might just lose his damn mind.

Dean smirks, like he can read Castiel's thoughts, and brings his hand back down sharply on Samandriel's ass, making the younger man hiss and squirm, new tears falling. "Look so gorgeous like this, little bird," he says, a sex-drawl that Castiel has never heard from him, makes heat pool low and his heart pound hard behind his ribs. "I want you to look at him – look at Castiel." Fuck, the way Dean says his full name shouldn't be hot, nor should the look Samandriel obediently sends him. He looks a mess, sweaty and ruffled and breaking apart and Castiel's gut aches in such confliction he doesn't know if he can move. "See what you're doing to him?"

Samandriel's eyes rake down Castiel's body, making the older man shiver, licking his lips again. The thought of Samandriel crying or in pain still hurts him, but he finds himself looking past that, drawn somehow to the darkness in his boyfriend's eyes and the pretty pink flush along his cheeks. Dean's hand comes down again, jerking Samandriel's whole body, and he lets out a filthy sound that has Castiel biting his lip, reaching down to palm himself through his jeans.

Samandriel moans at the sight, head dropping down, eyelids fluttering only to flare open at Dean's warning growl and hard smack. "Did I tell you to look away?" Dean asks, rhetorical of course, but Samandriel gasps and shakes his head and in reward Dean palms roughly over his sore ass, pulling at the stinging flesh and making Samandriel arch up onto his toes.

"Fuck," Castiel breathes, unable to stop himself, and Dean smirks, letting Samandriel go, and returns to gently rubbing over the younger man's ass.

Samandriel squirms again, a half-formed, needy sound spilling from behind his clenched teeth. Castiel knows what that means. "Dean, he needs -."

"I know what he needs," Dean says, cutting him off. "He needs you. Come here, Cas."

Castiel rises to his feet, unsteady, shaking though he's not sure why, if he's dizzy or drunk on the power he feels leaching into him from Samandriel's heavy gaze. His boyfriend's teary eyes follow him as he approaches and, wordlessly, Dean pulls his hand away and brings his forearms together, tells Samandriel to grab the other one so that the hand closest to Samandriel's head is free and he can pet gentle fingers through his messy, sweaty hair.

"Relax, little bird," Dean says, smiling when Samandriel's shoulders relax and his entire body unravels and he melts into Dean, but Dean's eyes are on Castiel and they feel burning. "Cas is gonna take care of you."

The order is clear, unspoken; Finish him. Castiel bites his lip and lets his eyes drop to his boyfriend's pretty ass, stained red in the shapes of Dean's hand. He reaches out, smoothes his hand over so his palm fits into a mark shaped like Dean's, feels his breath leave him in a heavy gust when Samandriel arches into the touch, desperate and needy.

Dean's grin lights up the corner of his gaze, the rest of him focused on Samandriel, on how his body shakes finely and every breath he takes in ends in a soft cry. Dean's arm flexes where it's held by Samandriel's hands, wraps around the younger man's slim waist to hold him down.

"Not too hard," he warns when Castiel pulls his hand back. "But make him feel it."

Castiel frowns, has no idea what to make of that, but he knows immediately when he brings his hand down that he hit too softly. Samandriel barely makes a sound and that in enough is an answer. Dean's eyes never leave him as he brings his hand down again, harder this time where Samandriel's ass creases into his thigh, and the cry he receives for that is, somehow, incredibly satisfying.

"Again," Dean growls, rough, affected even though he tries not to show it. "Hit him again."

So wrong so wrong so -. Castiel obeys, unable to resist the needy call of Samandriel's body any more than he is able to resist Dean's ever-coaxing voice. The voice of the man who used to lure him into their elderly neighbor's backyard to try and sneak glances at him or got him suspended from school for breaking into the Principal's Office for dirt on the teachers.

Castiel smacks Samandriel again, and again, until his own hand hurts and Dean's fingers have stopped petting and have wrung through his hair to hold him still as Samandriel bucks and wails out these beautiful, needy sounds that Castiel has never heard. Fuck.

It happens suddenly, and Castiel only notices because Dean's hand lets go of Samandriel's head and snaps out to grab his wrist. He blinks, comes back to himself, and gasps when he realizes that Samandriel is coming, his shoulders flexing and rolling as he bows over Dean's lap, hips humping forward onto the older man's thigh, his cries mixing together into one long whine that makes Castiel feel like he's been punched in the chest, his cock twitching, breath coming short.

"Fuck," he whispers, running a hand through his hair and stepping back. Dean's smiling at him, proud, eyes glowing, and they wait until Samandriel's cries dissolve into breathless gasps and whimpers before Dean pulls him up to stand.

The three of them stand together, Dean cupping Samandriel's face and wiping over his cheeks with his thumbs, eyes searching for something only he seems to know how to find, uncaring for the sweat stains across his thighs or the semen soaking into the leg of his jeans.

Then, he smiles, and pushes at Samandriel's shoulder until the younger man kneels – not braced with his heels digging into his feet like before, but up onto his knees, his shoulders relaxed and smile wide as he crosses his wrists at the small of his back.

"You did wonderfully, baby bird," Dean praises quietly, crouching down in front of Samandriel and pushing a small bottle into Castiel's hands. "Rub this into his skin – it'll help with the sting."

It's lotion, and Castiel doesn't hesitate as he falls to his knees next to Samandriel and opens the bottle, applying a thick glob to his fingers and rubbing it gently onto Samandriel's blood-warm skin. "Are you alright?" he asks, unable to help himself; the sight of Samandriel's dry tear stains linger in his mind and on his boyfriend's face, dimming the glow of his satisfied smile.

Samandriel doesn't look at him, because Dean hasn't said he can. "I'm awesome, Cas," he says, his words slurring, and Dean chuckles and leans up to press a kiss to Samandriel's forehead. They stay like that until the bottle is empty and Samandriel's skin has cooled. He looks much more relaxed and there is no pain lingering around the corners of his eyes, so Castiel satisfies himself with knowing that Samandriel would tell him if he's in too much pain.

"When you guys leave, give him some juice and anything else he needs – touch, food, comfort. Anything at all," Dean instructs, taking the empty bottle back and pulling Castiel to stand. His erection juts forward, knocking into Dean's stomach as they're pulled close together in front of Samandriel, and Castiel blushes but doesn't step back – meets Dean's eyes and holds them as his friend's slow, trouble-meaning grin stretches his mouth wide again. "But now, he has to give you something. Even trade."

Castiel frowns, not quite understanding – how can Samandriel owe him anything after that? But Dean turns him, pocketing the empty bottle of lotion so that his hands are free, one curling tight around the jut of Castiel's hip as he positions Castiel to stand right in front of Samandriel, clothed erection mere inches from the other man's mouth.

Dean's breath curls hotly across Castiel's neck, making him shiver muscles in his stomach clenching with arousal. "Put a hand in his hair," he says, and Castiel obeys without quite understanding why, glad when Samandriel leans into it, his smile wide and adoring when he chances a glance up.

Dean chuckles, tapping his free knuckles under Samandriel's chin. "You can look now, little bird. Take him out for me."

Castiel sucks in a quick breath as Samandriel obeys, fingers nimble and eager. He looks wrecked, but so damn greedy for it, ultimately blissed out. Maybe Samandriel should give something back, if somehow that harsh treatment made him smile that wide.

Dean pushes up against the small of Castiel's back, erection dragging between the barriers of their clothes, Dean's chin hooking over Castiel's tensed shoulder as they both look down at Samandriel, on his knees, open-mouthed, just hovering out of reach since neither of them had said he could start.

Dean reaches down, thumbing at the corner of Samandriel's open mouth but pulling back before he can wrap his lips around Dean's thumb, just toeing the line now of too much intimacy when already this situation is making Castiel feel breathless. "Look at that sweet mouth of his, Cas," he breathes, dark, low, and Castiel shakes in his hold. He feels like he's been punched when Dean wraps his free hand around his erection, guiding his cock into Samandriel's mouth. "Hold still, little bird," he growls, Samandriel opening his mouth wide, jaw relaxed as Dean sinks Castiel deeper inside his mouth, only to drag him back out.

Castiel bites out a low curse, reaching back to curl his hands into the meat of Dean's damp thighs. Dean makes him continue like that, his hand and his hips pushing Castiel into Samandriel's mouth and then pulling him back out, fucking in a maddeningly slow rhythm that has Castiel whining, gritting his teeth and tilting his head back to rest against Dean's shoulder.

Dean chuckles, lets his hand slide down Castiel's cock until he's stroking with two fingers and his thumb, fucking deeper into Samandriel's lax throat. "You boys should come back to me whenever you need this," he says, and it should be weird because Castiel has a good two years on Dean in age, but he feels weak and malleable in Dean's arms, eager for anything Dean might give him. It's so strange, mind-altering, when he's always been so forceful and dominant with Samandriel and all of his previous boyfriends, to melt so eagerly into Dean now, warm with the need to please him and shaking with the desire to earn the praise that Samandriel had earned so well.

Maybe Dean senses it, maybe he can read Castiel just as well as he could read Samandriel, but Castiel feels his smirk against his neck as he lets Castiel fuck into Samandriel's mouth again, stroking, twisting tight. "Gonna come, sweetheart? Wanna fuck into his sweet little mouth and make him swallow it all?"

Castiel lets out a rough sound. "Dean," he gasps, hips bucking forward without his consent, deeper into Samandriel's mouth, and Dean lets him, chuckles low against his nape and lets him fuck forward, hand tightening in his boyfriend's hair, fuck, fuck -.

He gasps again, coming down Samandriel's throat. He feels his legs have gone boneless, only Dean's strength holding him up now from the force of his orgasm. He's never come so hard in his life, he's sure of it, and when he pulls out and stares up at Samandriel's wide eyes, he's pretty sure the feeling is mutual. Somehow Dean's taken their already strong chemistry and made them electric, intense.

They're definitely coming back.

Dean strokes a hand through his hair, still hard but making no move to take care of it, and smiles warmly at Castiel as he tucks him back into his jeans – an action that makes Castiel blush, unable to look away from Dean's proud gaze – and cups his face in his hands to kiss Castiel's forehead. Just that little action makes Castiel feel warm all over, sated and content and smiling.

He lets Samandriel go, and pulls him up and gives him the same kiss, tapping two fingers lightly against his cheek. "Go get dressed, little bird, so Cas can take you home and take care of you."

Samandriel dips his eyes down, smiling sweetly, and obeys without a word. His clothes were left in the front room and when the door closes behind him, Castiel turns to Dean, dizzy, breathless.

"Dean, I -."

Dean waves his hand to silence him, smiling wide. It's the same smile Castiel has known all his life, easy and lazy almost like nothing in the world can bother him – but now Castiel knows what Dean sounds like when he's not that Dean, knows the strength in his hands and the control in his voice and he wants more than he can say. He's dry-mouthed at the thought.

"'S no problem, Cas. Happy to help." Dean pauses, looking him up and down, eyes appraising and sharp.

Castiel is a coward. He bites his lip, averts his eyes. "Thank you," he says instead of what he was about to say, cheeks coloring at the white stain on Dean's jeans and the obvious bulge still visible. His back and neck burn where Dean was pressed against him. "I had no idea you had…experience, in areas like this. I'm truly grateful."

Dean shrugs one shoulder. "Not exactly a burden," he replies with a wink, making Castiel's blush darken and spread.

"No," he says, fidgeting, thinking of how Samandriel had looked at Dean, eyes shining and adoring like he would do anything Dean said just to earn his praise – can't help but think how he had fallen under that spell also, the gleaming web that was Dean's attractive personality and careful control. "No, I suppose not."