“This is,” Castiel says, nudging minutely forward. “This is—“

“Nn,” Sam says, strangled.

“Sam, I— oh,” Castiel says breathlessly, eyes sliding shut. His face has a extraordinary expression on it at the moment— or, actually,

Sam’s

face does. Long, wild hair is sticking to the wet inside of his lip, and his cheeks are blotchy, face furrowed in concentration. Sam is trying not to stare, or think about what his own borrowed face looks like, with his mouth open and his eyelids getting heavier the deeper Cas gets.

“

Sam

,” Castiel sighs in Sam’s own voice, head tipping forward, and slides in another hot, solid inch.

“Shit,” Sam says weakly, arms tightening around him. “I—

really

don’t think this is going to work. Maybe we should—”

“No— no, it is,” Castiel says in a rush, looking up, “I’m sure it is,” and Sam would laugh if he wasn’t dying on the end of his own dick.

“Just—

fffuck,”

Sam gasps as Castiel crowds in closer, arms braced above Sam’s head, and his hipbones finally settle against Sam’s ass. “Oh, fuck

me

.”

“Good?” Castiel looks earnest and dazed, a little desperate. “Is that good?”

Good is maybe not the word Sam would use, but he can’t actually get words out around the gasping.

“I like hearing the noises you make,” Castiel whispers, right into the side of Sam’s head, breath unsteady and hot, “I love the way you sound, how you make me sound.”

“Oh, Je—

ah

, ah,

fuck,

” Sam pants. He knows exactly what Castiel means, because he’s never heard Castiel’s voice sound like this, stretched thin and breaking. When Castiel bucks in a little harder, Sam closes his eyes and moans out loud, hears

Castiel

moan out loud, and his own voice echo back at him.