It's a cleansing, the way Sam touches him, spreads him open so water can run between his cheeks and wash away every mistake that happened tonight. His fingers curl around broad shoulders, and he lazily rolls his hips, just to feel a little more of that delicious pressure. Not for arousal, just for touch. As much of it as he can get. Tipping his head up to press his lips to Sam's is easy, comfortable even. Allows their tongues to tangle lazily as the water washes the ghosts of this night away, resets it to something they can start from anew.

And then Castiel lowers his forehead to Sam's shoulder.

"I was still conscious when they walked into that lake. They had control over my body, but i was. I was there. And I knew I would die. I knew I would die having broken you and not fixed you."