Dean’s stuffed full, surrounded by skin that’s hotter than summer in Kansas, and it hurts but it hurts so good that he never wants it to stop. Castiel and Balthazar are kneeling together, and their dicks rub against something good and strange inside of him, nothing like when he was just with Castiel; it’s a sharper feeling, like he’s going to pop like a balloon and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it from happening.
"Easy, darling," Balthazar murmurs against his neck, and Castiel kisses his cheek, his shoulder, wherever he can reach as Dean shifts, at first uncomfortable, and then growing used to the feeling of being so full. He can’t believe he ever agreed to this, can’t believe that he’s managed to fit so much inside himself, but his cock is leaking against his stomach, smearing precome everywhere, and it’s so good.
"Okay," he says, and swallows, throat dry, thighs shaking from holding himself up, and Castiel and Balthazar press closer, their bodies as his support, "okay, you can move."