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Thin Walls (or, How to Get a Lifetime Ban at the Cincinnati Motel 6)

Summary:

“Are you telling me that you knew we ended up in a room next door to Dean and Cas?!”
“Yep.”
“And you’re okay that?”
“Celestial sensory, kid. I can feel the lady in room 7 puking up a bad burrito and the guy down the hall picking his toenails; you think I’m about to stop bangin’ your sweet ass just because my baby brother is getting his too?”

Notes:

Based on a Tumblr prompt that went something like, "Imagine your OTP in a hotel room next door to a couple having really loud sex. They counter this by having even louder sex." Two OTPs are better than one, right?

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          There are thick thighs slung on either side of Dean. Above him, flushed cheekbones framing swollen pink lips. Sex-rough hair. He’s hypnotized by the muscular body in his arms, because the sexiest thing about Cas is how he always looks like a goddamn angel. Bloodied-up in a fight or carrying groceries or sitting quietly in the Impala, but especially now, when he’s riding Dean off into the sunset, he’s made of power and grace.

          And typically, Cas is happy to let Dean do whatever he wants to bring them both off. But every so often, they’ll be shredding clothes and writhing half-naked in bed, when he decides to flip the switch. His eyes glow faintly as he rolls them over and straddles Dean, reaching down to slick up his cock as he kisses him breathless. It’s terrifyingly hot and never fails to leave Dean speechless, reducing him to profanity-laced prayer.

          That’s how he finds himself flat on his back on a dingy motel bed, Cas easing out little breaths as he rocks back and forth. The motion is slow and deep, meant to draw out the pleasure as long as possible, but Dean grunts impatiently, reaching for his angel. He doesn’t want an appetizer, he wants the entire fucking course, right now. He’s losing himself in the sight of his thumbs pressing at Cas’ sharp hipbones when suddenly he finds himself staring instead at the line of his throat, a flash of pain shooting through his arms.

          Cas pins his wrists above his head and thrusts down – hard – to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

          Dean wriggles a little in his grasp, just to make things more fun, and grins at his angel’s strength. Cas answers with a smile of his own, blue eyes hooded, curls of hair sticking to their foreheads where he drops his face to meet Dean’s. He offers a gentle brush of chapped lips to Dean’s mouth before bending lower to lick his way in, tasting minty sweet, and for a minute, everything is calm. They don’t have to be monster killers tonight. Here, they’re allowed to be just another couple messing up the thin starched sheets (not even the first couple today, Dean guesses, but it’s hard to care about that right now).

         Once they’re both gasping into each other’s neck, Cas releases Dean and pulls away, rolling his hips a little more forcefully. Dean’s pulse races in anticipation, arms and wrists tingling, and just as he’s starting to tell Cas to go faster, they’re interrupted by a sharp yelp from the room next door.

 

 

          “I’ve barely got an inch of my dick up your ass. Winchester, you pansy.”

          Sam can’t do much more than groan from his position – collapsed to his stomach at the edge of the bed, at least two inches of cock pressing right against his prostate – but he manages to grunt out a reply to Gabriel’s taunt.

           “I’m still…unf…new at this, asshole.”

          “Puh-lease, don’t get all coy on me now.” Gabriel clicks his tongue and slinks in one more inch, pushing Sam’s knees even further apart. He’s standing in between where Sam’s legs dangle off the side of the mattress, leaving him free to grope and tease. “Last time you were flat-out begging me to fuck you: ‘More, Gabe, harder, Gabe, please!’”

          Sam’s jaw falls slack as the angel bottoms out inside him. He needs to find a response – Gabriel won’t keep going unless he has verbal confirmation that Sam’s into it, plus he always gives more when the snark factor’s up – but the dual sensations of firm heat filling him and the rub of his own cock between his abs and the comforter already has him on the edge. He gasps, clutching at air, and collects himself.

          “Last time you spent half an hour prepping me with your tongue; I can’t be held responsible for anything I may have said. And we were at the bunker, on a real mattress, with nobody around to hear your filthy mouth.”

            Gabriel slides out entirely, and Sam chokes on a whimper before he can stop himself. He wrenches his head to the side to complain when suddenly a warm weight drops against his back: Gabriel flopping down on top of him. That thick cock settles wetly between his cheeks as the angel starts to grind against his sensitive hole, voice low with the current of barely-constrained power that made Sam decide it was a good idea to get involved in this in the first place.

            “See, now I thought you liked my filthy mouth, Sammoose. Sucking down your cock, licking out your ass, telling you how fucking hot you look riding your own hand and whining to be filled. Or am I mistaken?”

            Sam buries his face deep into the comforter. He can never hide anything from Gabriel when they’re like this, but he doesn’t need to give the angel the satisfaction of actually seeing him blush.

            “No,” he manages, squirming under Gabe’s slow, teasing rut.

            “Thought not,” Gabriel whispers into his ear before rearing back and pulling Sam open with one hand. With his other hand, he guides the head of his cock to Sam’s eager hole. “Now show me how much you want a next time, newbie.”

 

 

          “There it is again!” Dean growls, and slaps the mattress.

          For the second time, a semi-pained, semi-startled noise makes its way across the thin wall. He can’t quite place it as a bad sound though, just as he can’t place what makes the voice so uncomfortably familiar.

          With a sigh, Cas leans back– still seated on Dean’s dick – and cocks his head to the side to listen. After a few seconds, he smirks.

          “Babe, what? What is it?”

          “It’s nothing to worry about. You remember when we interrupted Sam and Gabriel naked in the library and Sam implied it was only a “one time deal”?”

          “…yeah?” Dean is tentative, horror cooling his arousal down about a thousand degrees at both the memory and his suspicion over what he’s about to find out.

          “He was lying,” Cas says simply. Right on cue, a guttural “Fuck!” comes through to their side and this time, there’s no mistaking the voice of a very happy Sam Winchester.

          Dean’s body, just minutes ago chasing an orgasm, rejects this situation in a flood of half-jointed thoughts and cold sweat. He’s dangerously close to panicking. This cannot be allowed to happen, and yet, somehow, Cas is bracing his hands on Dean’s chest and thrusting his ass back like nothing is wrong.

          “Dude! Stop it! My little brother is getting laid on the other side of this wall!”

          “I don’t see what that has to do with our evening.” Cas peers down at Dean curiously. “Does your brother not deserve intimacy as well?”

          “Yeah, but I don’t want to hear it! C’mon Cas, you know that’s weird.”

          Cas just gives an annoyed little huff and keeps gyrating like he couldn’t fucking care less. His fingertips trace patterns over Dean’s nipple, his balls brush softly across his stomach.

          “Mmmm, babe…” Dean finds that tight ass in his hands, letting him guide along the motion of Cas’ body. Then there’s a whispery moan that doesn’t come from him or Cas, and he regains his focus. “Hey, quit distracting me! Use your angel juice and zap us out of here, man, take us back home! They can have Motel 6, we’ve got memory foam.”

          Cas’ breath catches as the tip of Dean’s cock nudges something good inside him and he drags his mouth across Dean’s neck. Wet nips and kisses soon consume Dean as Cas works from jaw to collarbone, swirling his tongue and nibbling Dean’s skin like he’s hot-from-the-oven apple pie. To make things worse, he keeps letting out these tiny sighs that escalate into gasps and shuddery groans.

          “Dean,” he calls out, not much louder than his speaking voice, but deep enough to reheat all the arousal swirling back up Dean’s stomach. “Please. I want…please.

          In reality, it’s still Cas doing all the work, but Dean nods stupidly. His hips thrust up against his will, and Cas keens, louder, too loud for a motel room. Dean licks his lips, scratches his nails down his angel’s back as he wavers, and it’s already too late. He just has to make Cas do that again.

 

 

          “Gabe, wait, hold up. I said, wait! What the hell was that?”

          Gabriel’s rhythm stutters off and he sighs dramatically at the interruption. Long fingers play over the lines of muscle in Sam’s back as he speaks, sounding bored.

          “What was what, Samsterdam.”

          “Next door, that voice. It almost sounded like…” Sam hesitates, grateful for the distraction of Gabriel sweeping his hair to one side to lick at the back of his neck. But that baritone moan and the one following it now are much too distinctive. “Shit, that’s Cas!”

          “Very good,” Gabe praises in between a line of kisses down Sam’s spine. “You humans are all so blissfully unperceptive. Here your brother and mine have been knocking boots on the other side of this flimsy little wall, all this time, and you’re just now picking up on it. That’s cute, Sammy. In a sad, blind puppy kind of way.”

          “Are you telling me that you knew we ended up in a room next door to Dean and Cas?!”

          “Yep.” Having reached as far down Sam’s back as he can without pulling out, Gabriel returns to mouthing his shoulder blades. Sharp teeth dig into the side of Sam’s throat, hard enough to make him cry out.

          “And you’re okay that?” He grunts, surprised to find that he already cares less than he should. To be fair, Gabriel has that stupefying effect on him on days when they aren’t ten feet away from Cas moaning like a porn star.

          “Celestial sensory, kid. I can feel the lady in room 7 puking up a bad burrito and the guy down the hall picking his toenails; you think I’m about to stop bangin’ your sweet ass just because my baby brother is getting his too?”

          Sam doesn’t bother to answer. Gabriel is doing something incredible with his hips, pressing them flush to Sam’s cheeks and circling painfully slow, forcing the head of his cock so deep that for a moment Sam can’t even fucking breathe. He grabs handfuls of the comforter and squeezes urgently until the pressure lets up into something more like pleasure.

          “Besides, if you can still think about anything other than my cock right now, I’m not doing this right,” Gabriel murmurs sweetly. “Tell me what you want, Sam. You wanna worry about Cas and Dean or you wanna get fucked?”

          Sam flushes again, biting off a mumble. He hopes the spastic thrust of his hips up into Gabe’s pelvis will be enough of an answer.

          “What’s the matter? Afraid they’re going to hear you beg to get your ass rammed? Don’t want your own brother to know what an insatiable whore you are? That you’ll let an archangel take you in a cheap hotel room and wail all the way through it like a bitch in heat? But I don’t think you can even help yourself, can you Sammy? You’re so desperate for cock that you don’t care.”

          The terrible thing is, some part of Sam does still care he has an audience, and loves it. Something in him is thrilled to show off how good it feels to just give in to what he wants for once. Because he likes the harshness of Gabe’s hard body slapping into his. He likes the sweat slicking up his thighs. He likes the burn in his unseasoned ass. He likes having his arm twisted around and pinned down against his back so that he can’t move, fixing him under the motion. And suddenly he doesn’t care at all who knows.

          “Fuck me,” he grinds out, hair falling to his face with a shudder.

          “Now you’re talking,” Gabriel purrs and reaches for Sam’s hips to tilt them slightly. The next time he rocks back to thrust home, Sam forgets how to breathe again. His toes curl against the carpet and his throat goes raw with a soundless scream.

 

 

          Dean can’t stop watching Cas’ dick. It’s flushed and wet, bouncing along with the rest of Cas, smacking against his toned stomach. He wants to stroke it, wants to fondle the velvety shaft and run his thumb over the leaking head, but he’s not ready for this to end, not yet.

          Instead, he grabs Cas’ ass with both hands, spreading him as wide as he’ll go and kneading the tight muscle. He’s still just going along for the ride, grunting softly as the bed shakes under the force of his angel fucking himself.

          Cas changes position, leaning back to brace himself against Dean’s legs now, body arching up in a perfect curve. He flexes those thick thighs to take Dean at a different angle and groans – long and rumbling – as his sweet spot is slammed. The dim lighting catches the sweat on his shoulders and his saliva-slick chin, stubbleburnt from kissing. His mouth is open and his eyes are closed as he undulates over Dean’s lap, sliding up just enough to give Dean a good view of his own cock before dropping back down with an airless sigh.

          “Babe, you’re beautiful,” Dean tells him, grinning when Cas shivers and grips harder at his thighs.

          “God, harder– fuck – yeah, unf, there!”

          “You like it rough, Sammy? You like taking it from behind, lettin’ me in your pretty ass? You want some more, don't you, cock slut?”

          And with that, Dean is totally ready to throw in the towel for maybe forever, blue balls be damned, but a funny look comes over Cas’ face. He slows for a moment, staring down at Dean like when he was human and wasn’t sure about a new flavor of coffee or walking out into the rain, hesitantly curious.

          Then he throws back his head and moans Dean’s name as loud as he can.

          It’s so lewd, so crazy inappropriate, that Dean is torn between dying from embarrassment and laughter. At least until Cas picks up the pace, startling a grunt from his throat that he echoes for good measure. If they’re going to play this game, Dean’s in it to win.

         “C’mon baby, that’s it, let’s ride hard!”

          Dean is bucking up into the heat now, unable to restrain himself any longer, forcing out one long string of garbled exclamations from Cas as he rides the ruthless pace.

          “Dean, yes, please, j-just like...that...! Please! More!”

 

 

          “Fuck…yeah…fuck…yeah,” Sam hums in between thrusts. He’s been dragged to the edge of the bed now, giving him leverage to brace his feet against the ground and drive his ass back into the onslaught.

          On the other side of the wall, Dean makes Cas howl and Sam responds by groaning even louder, pulling his head up from where Gabriel’s been shoving him face first into the mattress. The angel laughs against his neck and allows it.

          “That’s right, sweetcheeks, that’s the spot!” he calls out, not even trying to pretend the words are just for Sam. “Love fucking you so good, watching your ass fill up with my cock. So hot and tight for me, fucking perfect.”

          “Harder!” Sam yells. He’s not expecting anything out of it – except to counter Dean’s “Jesus Christ, Cas, you’re gonna take my whole dick off!” – but Gabriel smacks his left cheek and goes back to his double-fisted grip on Sam’s hips. He can feel the bruises forming there, knows he’ll have dark purple marks around his hipbones, circling his wrist, and peeking out from under his hair. Now he’ll have a red handprint on his ass too, and the thought is so fucking hot his cock twitches with a gush of precum.

          “Fuck, I wanna cum,” he whines, reaching back to pull Gabriel’s thigh in on each thrust. His hole clenches greedily. “Make me cum, Gabe, get me wet!” He’s starting to shiver with how good he feels, tears leaking out even though he has his eyes shut tight, panting and gasping as their bodies collide.

 

 

          “Are you mmmmm close, Dean?”

          Cas whimpers like he’s in pain but Dean recognizes the tremor of his abdominal muscles, the quick quiver of his rim.

          “ ‘Course I am, watching you fuck yourself so nice,” he rumbles. “What about you, baby? You gonna cum on my cock?”

          Cas bites his lip and makes a desperate noise from the back of his throat. His head keeps jerking downward, his hands slip a little on the sweat of Dean’s chest. He slaps his palms flat against the wall above Dean’s head, and digs his damn fingernails into the plaster before answering.

         “Touch me. Touch me now,” he growls. Dean wouldn’t dream of telling him no.

          He runs his thumb up and down the veins of Cas’ dick, squeezes gently, and it takes everything he’s got to stroke and keep pumping his hips at the same time, but it’s worth it for the way Cas moans now. Rich, low, slightly dangerous. It makes Dean’s battered cock throb.

         Between that sound, the wet smack of ass-to-thighs, and Dean’s own harsh breathing, he can barely hear a thing from Sam’s room anymore. He declares that a triumph. Loudly.

 

 

          Sam is officially no longer trying to out-sexnoise his brother: every sound being pulled from his mouth is completely involuntary now. Although for one thing he’s pretty sure he and Gabriel are still winning, and for another, it’ll be nice to have a couple witnesses in case the angel actually succeeds in killing him with sex.

          His ass is completely raw. Every thrust makes him beg for either more or mercy, he can’t be sure which, and grinds his cock into the edge of the mattress.

          “Humping the bed? You must really want it bad, Sammy,” Gabriel tsks, not even out of breath, and Sam would curse him for it if he weren’t having the fucking time of his life, crammed full of thick angel cock.

          “I want it!” he bellows, all pride forgotten.

          “Then take it, Sam! I’ve fucked you right up to the edge, now give yourself over!”

          The first spasms start to hit his stomach and he howls in pleasure.

          “Don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m gonna cum, lemme cum, Gabe!”

 

 

          “Dean!”

          Cas has stopped moving and lost his entire vocabulary, and Dean can feel him clenching down to take him as deep as he can. Quickly, he slides one hand down Cas’ cheeks to stretch his swollen rim just a little bit more and keeps jacking his cock with his right hand.

          “Oh, oh please, DEAN!”

 

 

          Sam’s back is arching, his vision is blurring, and his ears are ringing, but his throat hurts again so he thinks he must be screaming. The hot cock still thrusting inside him doesn’t let up for a second.

 

 

          “Cum for me, Cas, come on baby, I’m right behind you, ‘m cumming too!” Dean shouts, and it’s totally useless because he’s already shooting his load in Cas, already running his hand up and down the mess Cas has made of his own cock, slicking the shaft and feeling it tremble. But his angel just grips the wall and moans through the aftershocks as if Dean’s timing were perfect.

 

 

          Sam is still shaking through his orgasm, and his body is still tight and sensitive, hole convulsing when Gabriel pulls out. He lets loose a groan that deepens to a satisfied mumble when he feels the angel spread his cheeks and splash cum across his used, gaping hole. There’s a lot of it, and Gabriel’s aim is deliberately scattershot: some hits his lower back, some catches on the roundness of his ass, and some slides down his balls. But most of the hot stickiness ends up just inside him, for Gabriel to press at with his long fingers. The archangel chuckles, low and honeyed, when it makes Sam whimper.

          Sam’s own release is smeared across his stomach and he wonders dimly if Gabriel will just leave him here, covered in spunk and bite marks, before flying off. He’s never quite sure what to expect from the angel.

          He smirks to himself.

          Well, that’s obvious just from this experience.

 

 

          They’ve calmed down and slid apart and Dean would really like to snuggle back up to Cas (even if he’ll never admit it out loud), but it’s too damn hot now in the cramped, muggy room. They settle for loosely holding hands, Dean still flat on his back, sticking to the sheets, and Cas lying on his side. It’s quiet on the other side of the wall.

          Cas’ eyes are shining with satisfaction and peace, but he keeps moving his tongue around his lips like he wants to say something, so Dean beats him to the punch.

          “We are never talking about this, ever.”

          “Yes, that’s fair.”

 

 

          Gabriel strokes the fingerprint-shaped marks on Sam’s hips. “How about these? You wanna keep ‘em?”

          The archangel has cleaned him up, healed the now-stinging ache in his ass, and vanished some of the deeper bites, but Sam won’t let him touch the bruises. He wants that reminder, even if it means Dean might see. The back of his neck and the dip of his collarbone are mottled purple and Gabriel keeps staring at them with a predatory glint.

          “Yep,” Sam answers. There’s no chance of his brother finding out about the marks down below, anyway.

          “Well then, you’ve had your fun and picked out your souvenirs.” Gabriel stands, fully dressed by the time Sam blinks. “Time to call it a day, Sammy.”

          “Looks like it.” Sam has only seconds to come up with the idea and even less time to second-guess himself. He pulls himself to his feet (still a little shaky) and touches the archangel’s shoulder.

          “Wait.”

          Gabriel arches an eyebrow, twists his face with amusement, waiting, and that’s when Sam swoops down to kiss him. He tastes Gabe’s surprise, then pleasure, tilts his head so their lips can press softly. It’s warm and gentle and absolutely nothing like anything they’ve done before.

          Finally, Gabriel pulls away. He looks up at Sam as if he can’t quite believe him…and then sticks out his fucking tongue at him, like a preschooler on the playground.

          “You are a sap, Winchester.” But he smiles, a moment of warmth the color of sunshine.

          And then he’s gone, leaving Sam to grin to himself and stretch out on the bed with a happy sigh, wondering if Dean’s head had actually exploded and what they could possibly say to each other over breakfast.

 

 

          It’s cool enough now to touch and fall asleep, Dean taking his turn as the little spoon under the scratchy comforter. Cas hums contentedly against his back, tangles their feet up together. Just as Dean’s starting to drift off, that deep voices wakes him back up.

          “Can I make one observation? About the evening?”

          Used to Cas’ weird, irrelevant pillowtalk, Dean doesn’t bother to open his eyes as he answers.

          “Sure, babe.”

          “This is not to say I’ve spent much time thinking about Sam’s sex life, but…”

          “Turns out my brother’s a bottom?”

          “Exactly.”

          “Yeah, I didn’t see that one coming either.”