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Castiel loves the quiet moments like this, when he doesn’t have to think about all the bad or about the things that have gone wrong. He doesn’t have to think about the things that will go wrong. He doesn’t have to think at all here, where he’s sandwiched on his side between the two souls he’s come to cherish above all else.
It’s just before dawn and still a bit dark inside the room when Castiel lets his eyes open from the nap he’d pretended to indulge in. The air smells of sweat and sex and something else that is purely unique. The first thing to greet him is Dean’s sleeping face. His features are relaxed with the ease of sleep and his body is turned to the side to face the angel before him. Dean’s got his hands lax between the small gap in the middle of the two of them, mostly resting on the sheets after moving in his sleep hours prior to this moment.
Castiel doesn’t mind the space in between them. He reaches out to run a hand over the side of Dean’s face, cupping his jaw and running his thumb over the two day old stubble there. This is more than enough. He knows he shouldn’t be greedy to ask for anything else.
He’s fortunate though, because there’s something else that he’d longed for and had been graced with; a someone that had accepted him just as much as the righteous man in front of him.
Sam shifts in his sleep and mumbles something unintelligible under his breath, pressing closer to Castiel’s back and wrapping his arms tighter around his torso. His knee bumps against the back of Castiel’s thighs and the angel gladly parts his legs for him. Sam’s leg slots itself nicely between his. The angel can’t help but let a smile charm his lips.
Angels are not meant for emotions and bodily indulgence. Yet here Castiel remains, buried between two boys he calls his own with an emotion so tender fluttering inside his chest that it’s nearly tangible. His heart is made up of two halves, a void where he could never even hope to find anything to fit snugly inside. He’s tried before, to fill it. And everything had fallen through.
But it’s not empty though; not anymore. It’s filled now, half with Dean and half with Sam. They’ve filled it themselves, without Castiel asking and without a third party prompt.
They came to him with their soft words of longing and deeply seeded worry and gentle touches that spoke louder in volume than any word ever uttered under God’s presence. They gripped his coat from all sides and bled out in feeling until Castiel was bathed in it, sweltering under the pressure of them both against him.
He’d given in to them, as he’d wanted to for so long. He’d given in and given up trying to hide how awful and estranged he felt inside.
I’m not as you are. I’m not worthy of your affections, he’d said from between them, completely breathless with an emotion he couldn’t place a name to. We accept you, their actions whispered back. We love you and we don’t care.
Castiel came undone that night, there, in that run-down motel room with the broken lampshade and the stained curtains, with two pairs of hands across his skin and a shower of kisses all along his neck and mouth. He came undone with a layer of elation seeping into his bones and a clear sense of endearment in his heart. He felt full, inside and out, completely surrounded by the Winchesters. And each time he breathed afterward, it smelled of them. Only them. Of Sam and of Dean. His boys.
So it’s fortunate, Castiel thinks, that he’s allowed to feel this way now. He’s fortunate that he can be so engrossed in his love for two humans who don’t hesitate to mirror the sentiment back. He doesn’t have to feel guilty for the first time in a long time, and that’s really something.
Dean nuzzles the side of his face against the pillow under his head and mumbles, his speech incoherent and inconsistent and Castiel loves it. He almost wishes he could scoot closer and wrap himself in the hunter’s warmth, feeling half empty inside himself with only Sam entwined around him. He wants them both. He doesn’t want to ever part with either of them.
It’s difficult when feels even a little empty this way. Dean seems to understand this, somehow sensing the distress in Castiel’s heart and scooting closer himself into the angel’s body heat. Castiel closes his eyes with a contented sigh as Dean cuddles in close. Sam mimics the action at his back. It leaves the angel cradled tightly between them, the hunters’ faces nestled happily in the spaces at either side of his neck—with Dean mostly against his collarbone and chest and Sam perfectly seated in the crook of his neck and shoulder.
Castiel is left with his face upturned to the side with a wide smile over his lips and a gentle hum of appreciation that runs through him in waves. He scrunches his toes and laces his fingers with Sam’s over his stomach, feeling Dean’s legs fidget with sleep against the fronts of his own. Dean lifts an arm to wrap it around the angel, and when he does it goes back even farther, falling over the dip in Sam’s waist and resting there with his fingers against his back.
Castiel couldn’t possibly be happier, he thinks.
But then his favorite humans begin to wake, hours later, and they greet him with gentle kisses that ghost over his skin and loving nips that caress him in all the places the human body was meant to for and Castiel knows he’d been wrong. This is where his true happiness lies. He’s worshipped here, on a dusty bed with two hunters he worships just as equally.
They’re one here; three parts of a whole where Castiel knows he strictly belongs, and nowhere else.
Don’t leave us again, their lips whisper along his skin. And he won’t, can’t anymore with how enthralled he is inside the image of them. He swallows thick and breathes in the heady scent of their skin before he’s laid back and very nearly completely covered by the two beautiful bodies previously positioned at his sides.
He begs them here, when his emotions run too deep and his body grows tense with the need for the physicality in their touch, begs them to coat his body in their saliva and keep him warm with their body heat. They comply easily, running their tongues over every bit of his skin they are able to cover and massaging with firm fingers in the places they cannot. It raises the temperature inside Castiel and causes him to sweat, his hands restless over his own body as his fingers seek out the pleasure singing along his skin.
It’s a ritual they go through almost every morning when they wake, usually following a night well spent and sated with the intensity of their lovemaking, and one that Castiel loves to initiate.
He comes undone under them just as he always does, and always with both of his boys cradling his body close and breathing words of promise and comfort inside.
Castiel likes this too, when his body is calming and he’s sticky with his own essence, because it doesn’t take much maneuvering for him to repay the favor when they’re this close. This way he can lean down and pull them inside, hold onto them from both ends, and writhe between him while they move and his body sucks them dry.
It’s beautiful and all-consuming and Castiel doesn’t understand how any of his brothers and sisters can bear to carry on without the weight of it.
He’s completely love drunk after, always too taken with euphoria to do anything other than wrap himself in his boys.
I am in love, the angel’s heart sings in between the languid kisses he gives to each brother in equal measure, his lips moving slow and passionate and his tongue peeking through to taste and touch. Sam and Dean both return the gesture.