Castiel smiled up at Sam, grateful for the affection. It reminded him that Sam was close by, that this wasn't just someone else laying his hands on Castiel, but someone else touching him for Sam's pleasure. James seems charming enough, nice smiles, a cheerful "You got it boss" for Sam.
When Castiel locks eyes with him and says "Leviathan", James' expression turns serious and he nods.
All in all, Castiel feels that he's in good hands. James touches him, gently at first to get to know the feel of Castiel's skin. He smiles when he pulls back and looks through the floggers Sam and Castiel have cleared for possible use. "On your hands and knees, then. I want you to look into your masters eyes while you count out the strokes.
It's exhilarating, to keep his eyes on Sam, to keep his cock soft in its confines and to keep a count of strokes as James lays into him. His strokes are very different from Sam's, neither better nor worse, just coming at an entirely different angle. They reach ten when Castiel can feel himself floating a little already, eyes slipping as James rounds them off with several slaps to his ass.
Still, he's not sold on the concept of being shared. He doesn't mind, not really, but being watched by Sam while someone else works him is not half as thrilling as being worked by Sam with other people watching. Not a complete failure then, but not necessarily something he wants to pursue in the future.
That's what he thinks while James manhandles him onto his back, removes the dildo, prepares his own erection with a condom and lube and shoves into Castiel.
Not being able to look into Sam's eyes takes what little magic there was in it, pulls Castiel right out of the space he was floating towards. James is good, but that's not the issue - it's not how hard he fucks Castiel, but how he's just not Sam, lacks the precision to keep Castiel on an edge between pleasure and pain. One hand rubs up and down the side of Castiel's neck, no doubt meant to soothe - but it just means the fallen angel tenses up, not pleased with this. He has no orders, which means he can only lie still and take it, which makes him feel like more of a toy and less of a sub, and the hand on his neck makes him uncomfortable enough that he opens his mouth to call the whole thing off.
James leans forward before he can speak, which means he inadvertently blocks Sam's view, one hand burying in Castiel's hair while he presses their foreheads together. His weight is on the other hand right now, and before Castiel can comprehend what James does - does accidentally, which makes it worse, because it means he's not in control, he's careless, he shouldn't handle a sub - his air is cut off. Castiel tries to take one breath, then two, silently, neither filling his air with lungs.
And just like that, it's not a man above him, but black goo wafting into dark water that closes over his head, fills his nose, his mouth, his lungs. He can't breath, can't call it off, can't call for Sam, can't call the safe word, something that should never ever happen when he's not gagged or having his mouth fucked. His hands claw at James' arms as darkness creeps into the edge of his vision. What is erotic for many people is a terror for Castiel, something that haunts his nightmares and makes him feel uncomfortable around large bodies of water or having his breath restricted in any way, sexual or not.
Castiel is in a full blown panic before James even realizes that he's choking him.
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When Castiel locks eyes with him and says "Leviathan", James' expression turns serious and he nods.
All in all, Castiel feels that he's in good hands. James touches him, gently at first to get to know the feel of Castiel's skin. He smiles when he pulls back and looks through the floggers Sam and Castiel have cleared for possible use. "On your hands and knees, then. I want you to look into your masters eyes while you count out the strokes.
It's exhilarating, to keep his eyes on Sam, to keep his cock soft in its confines and to keep a count of strokes as James lays into him. His strokes are very different from Sam's, neither better nor worse, just coming at an entirely different angle. They reach ten when Castiel can feel himself floating a little already, eyes slipping as James rounds them off with several slaps to his ass.
Still, he's not sold on the concept of being shared. He doesn't mind, not really, but being watched by Sam while someone else works him is not half as thrilling as being worked by Sam with other people watching. Not a complete failure then, but not necessarily something he wants to pursue in the future.
That's what he thinks while James manhandles him onto his back, removes the dildo, prepares his own erection with a condom and lube and shoves into Castiel.
Not being able to look into Sam's eyes takes what little magic there was in it, pulls Castiel right out of the space he was floating towards. James is good, but that's not the issue - it's not how hard he fucks Castiel, but how he's just not Sam, lacks the precision to keep Castiel on an edge between pleasure and pain. One hand rubs up and down the side of Castiel's neck, no doubt meant to soothe - but it just means the fallen angel tenses up, not pleased with this. He has no orders, which means he can only lie still and take it, which makes him feel like more of a toy and less of a sub, and the hand on his neck makes him uncomfortable enough that he opens his mouth to call the whole thing off.
James leans forward before he can speak, which means he inadvertently blocks Sam's view, one hand burying in Castiel's hair while he presses their foreheads together. His weight is on the other hand right now, and before Castiel can comprehend what James does - does accidentally, which makes it worse, because it means he's not in control, he's careless, he shouldn't handle a sub - his air is cut off. Castiel tries to take one breath, then two, silently, neither filling his air with lungs.
And just like that, it's not a man above him, but black goo wafting into dark water that closes over his head, fills his nose, his mouth, his lungs. He can't breath, can't call it off, can't call for Sam, can't call the safe word, something that should never ever happen when he's not gagged or having his mouth fucked. His hands claw at James' arms as darkness creeps into the edge of his vision. What is erotic for many people is a terror for Castiel, something that haunts his nightmares and makes him feel uncomfortable around large bodies of water or having his breath restricted in any way, sexual or not.
Castiel is in a full blown panic before James even realizes that he's choking him.