#windriel

The slide in of Castiel’s dry finger alongside Dean’s burns slightly without more lube, but it’s a pleasant ache. Their fingers push in and out in perfect synchronization. Samandriel gasps when one of the fingers breaks rhythm to curl into his prostate.

“Fuck!” he cries out and shudders.

“What do you say to another?” Dean asks. Samandriel’s not sure who he’s asking, but he answers anyway.

“Yes, fuck, please,” he begs, canting his ass into the air to drive their fingers deeper.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

This time, not just one finger, but two enter him. Samandriel cries out with surprise at the thicker-than-expected intrusion. They burn going in unlubricated, but it still feels good.

“Fuck,” he says again. “Dean. Cas.”

“We’re right here,” Castiel says.

“You’re going to come just like this,” orders Dean. Samandriel is almost certain it’s his fingers pushing against his prostate, now. “If we have to stuff more fingers into ya, we will. But this is it. Fingers.”

“No cock?” Samandriel whines, dismayed.