(no subject)

[elinorwise]

“If you do so good at the sex then why are all your female friends yelling out my father’s name?” Cas inquired looking at Dean with a straight face and unwavering attention. Dean hated that unwavering attention.
In the corner Sam made a choking noise and coffee spilled across the table as it shot out of his nose. And Dean’s beer froze halfway to his lips as he stared at Cas, already uncomfortable with the entire conversation.
“What?” Dean says smirking and trying not to think about the fact that he was teaching communication of sex to an angel who he knew was fucking his little brother, “Are you not fucking Sam hard enough that he prays to God himself in thanks.”
Dean’s smirk grows even further when Sam chokes on his coffee again.
“I felt I did an adequate job,” Castiel says,” He moans my name relatively loud.”
Dean didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In one way the angel had just called himself “adequate” in bed, basically insulting himself. On the other hand, he just had to hear about how Sammy moans Cas’s name. And on the other, other hand, Sammy was hilariously dying of embarrassment and shock at the same time. This was an excellent blackmail opportunity, a hilarious comedy, but also a form of cold-blooded torture all at the same time. And Dean was just enough of a masochist to stay.

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