ficlet: Twist (Sam/Cas, R)
HI I WROTE THIS IN A BAR AND I'M POSTING IT NOW FROM A BUS. WHATEVER, I DO WHAT I LIKE. ROBOSAM FOREVER.
Title: Twist
Pairing: RoboSam/Cas
Words: ~400
Warnings/Summary: MEANNESS. that's both the warning and the summary.
The nape of Castiel's neck tastes faintly of alcohol, the earthy tang of whisky seeping out through his skin like it's gotten inside him, left him drunk and incapable. Sam flattens a hand low on his stomach, hitching Cas back against him, and his fingers span the breadth of him almost totally, take his weight.
"Sam," Cas is saying, and sure, Sam likes the way his voice has gone ragged-dark and low, the gravel rasp of it, the accompanying backward fuck of his hips; but the use of his name sparks nothing in him, something about it almost discomfiting, wrong. He takes a breath; twist his hips and fucks up into Cas in a spasmodic jerk that sends Cas tipping forward, hands flattening against the table.
"Shut up," Sam says, and the words are half-muffled against the bolt of Cas's jaw but the tone is unmistakable, and Cas subsides, but the broken catch of his breath doesn't escape Sam's notice, the needy clench of his body, wanting more. Sam slides his free hand up and over Cas's abdomen, his sternum, to his throat, closes it there, and Cas's breath quickens further, hips hitching backward to take more of Sam's cock, to splay himself open.
"Sam," Cas repeats, and it's half a sob and shit, for an angel, he sure as hell is slow. Sam's pelvis slams forward, unbalancing Cas entirely, and his thighs go wide in trembling response, whole body shunted onto Sam's bracing hand.
"Try again," Sam hisses, and then he's teething at the jut of bone that shows when Cas ducks his head, and Cas is whimpering, shifting frenetically as Sam pulls back, slams into him hard. Cas makes a bitten-off, deep-throated sound and Sam tightens his fingers, stomach tightening at the way Cas's throat flutters vulnerably under his grip, gasping for air. "Some angel you are, spreading it like this, like a fucking whore --"
Cas seemed like the sort who'd be noisy when he came, but like this, with Sam's hand cutting off his air, he can't make a sound, which makes it difficult to tell.
Title: Twist
Pairing: RoboSam/Cas
Words: ~400
Warnings/Summary: MEANNESS. that's both the warning and the summary.
The nape of Castiel's neck tastes faintly of alcohol, the earthy tang of whisky seeping out through his skin like it's gotten inside him, left him drunk and incapable. Sam flattens a hand low on his stomach, hitching Cas back against him, and his fingers span the breadth of him almost totally, take his weight.
"Sam," Cas is saying, and sure, Sam likes the way his voice has gone ragged-dark and low, the gravel rasp of it, the accompanying backward fuck of his hips; but the use of his name sparks nothing in him, something about it almost discomfiting, wrong. He takes a breath; twist his hips and fucks up into Cas in a spasmodic jerk that sends Cas tipping forward, hands flattening against the table.
"Shut up," Sam says, and the words are half-muffled against the bolt of Cas's jaw but the tone is unmistakable, and Cas subsides, but the broken catch of his breath doesn't escape Sam's notice, the needy clench of his body, wanting more. Sam slides his free hand up and over Cas's abdomen, his sternum, to his throat, closes it there, and Cas's breath quickens further, hips hitching backward to take more of Sam's cock, to splay himself open.
"Sam," Cas repeats, and it's half a sob and shit, for an angel, he sure as hell is slow. Sam's pelvis slams forward, unbalancing Cas entirely, and his thighs go wide in trembling response, whole body shunted onto Sam's bracing hand.
"Try again," Sam hisses, and then he's teething at the jut of bone that shows when Cas ducks his head, and Cas is whimpering, shifting frenetically as Sam pulls back, slams into him hard. Cas makes a bitten-off, deep-throated sound and Sam tightens his fingers, stomach tightening at the way Cas's throat flutters vulnerably under his grip, gasping for air. "Some angel you are, spreading it like this, like a fucking whore --"
Cas seemed like the sort who'd be noisy when he came, but like this, with Sam's hand cutting off his air, he can't make a sound, which makes it difficult to tell.