(no subject)

[elinorwise]

An irresistible compulsion positioned Justin on top of the stranger, blade in hand.
The man grabbed his wrist, paralyzing it mid-air. His other hand travelled to the back of Justin’s head and pulled him down for a violent crash of lips.
Sam dropped the blade. Castiel slipped in some tongue. Tongue.
“Um. Cas-”
“Finally.”
Sam made room, awkward, when Castiel insisted on standing up.
“I should’ve tried that first,” he grumbled. “It’s a traditional counter-spell.”
“Did you have to use…?” Sam asked, a half-hearted protest at best.
“True love’s kiss, Sam” he explained, unapologetic. “There wasn’t time for half measures.”

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