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Most of the time, Dean prefers them naked, but sometimes he’ll order them to dress up in the lacy lingerie he often buys them. Both Dean and Cas share expensive tastes, but Sam prefers more basic pieces, panties and stockings that don’t cost more than twenty or thirty dollars each. Cas tends to enjoy more complicated, pricey items – baby dolls and kimonos and slips and camisoles, garter belts and suspenders, thongs and briefs and heart-shaped pasties. Cas prefers deep, rich colors and an abundance of lace and bows, and he can’t stand cheap fabric.
Sam is content with generic brands from multi-purpose retailers, and Dean doesn’t push it, but Castiel is spoiled and only orders from big name lingerie shops with French names and prices in European currencies.
Castiel knows their lingerie collection by heart, and quickly chooses the pieces he wants Sam to wear, flinging them at him as if he’s personally offended to be touching the cotton blends Sam wears instead of the silk and satin and lace he adorns himself with. He’ll then teasingly ask Sam which pieces he thinks he will look best in, batting his eyes at the taller man and catching his lip between his teeth as he wonders aloud which will bring out his eyes best, or which will make him look prettiest.
Sam always gets it wrong, when he suggests a summer piece in late spring, or when he points to a purple satin thong that obviously does not go with Castiel’s violet silk stockings. Castiel will just shake his head and dress himself in a seasonally appropriate, perfectly matched set of lingerie that Sam couldn’t name if he tried.
“Which one do you think would make me look sexier?” Castiel asks, gesturing towards the jumbled mess of his lingerie draw.
Sam thinks for a moment. He knows which one he wants to see Castiel in, and he’s pretty sure that it doesn’t even have a season. “The red one. You know, the one with all the straps and the bows.” Castiel looks amazing in that one, with the big bow tied at his throat and the ones at his lips, and the way the fabric looks so delicate against his musculature and how the thin strip of cloth does absolutely nothing to hide his cock.
Castiel sighs, and Sam deflates, knowing he’s lost this particular game once again. “It’s called a playsuit, Sam. And I can’t believe you think today is a red day. Or a silk day. Or a bow day.” He shakes his head. “No, today is a lace day. A satin day. Don’t worry, you’ll like this one. It’s new.”
Sam perks up. When Castiel says he’ll like something, he’s generally right.
Cas fastens the garter belt first, and Sam is pleased to see that a little bow adorns the waist-band despite what Castiel said about today not being a bow day. He slips on the stockings next, soft violet satin hugging his slender thighs, then fastens the deep pink clasps attached to the garter to the stockings. Last, he wiggles into the panties – Sam thinks that they’re briefs, but he’s not sure – and Sam forgets to breathe as he catches sight of the bulge barely concealed by the hot pink strip of fabric covered in hyacinth purple French lace.
“You like?” Castiel spins around so he can inspect, and Sam just gapes. It’s not as good as the red assemble, but he does like it.
Castiel snorts at his silence. “Get dressed,” he says, jutting his chin in the direction of the cotton fabric clenched in Sam’s hands.
It takes Sam three tries to get it on, and by the time he’s done, he’s too hard to fit properly. He looks obscene, lose-rise see-through light purple skirted thong doing little to hide anything. He blushes as he looks down at himself, and flushes when Cas whistles.
Castiel is the first to leave, only pausing to whisper, “I hope I’m allowed to fuck you today,” on his way out.
Sam swallows and races to join Cas, secretly wishing for the exact same thing.