Chapter Text
Dean and Cas sat on their hotel balcony, watching the crepuscular glow over the Atlantic fade into dusk. They sipped their beers in companionable quiet, each lost in thought.
"Whoa," Dean said, interrupting the silence. He gestured to the east, where an unearthly orange lit up the fog over the horizon. "Is that --?"
Cas paused, doing calculations in his head. "Yes," he murmured. "It's a full moon."
Dean blinked at him, then turned back to the ocean. "Huh."
As the last lingering light disappeared, the moon emerged from the cloud, coalescing into a shimmering sphere. Now and then a door snicked open, and invisible people padded out to join them, hidden by balcony walls. Somewhere several floors below, a whoop that could only belong to Gabriel rang out, and Dean snorted.
"S'nice," Dean admitted. He scooted his chair closer to Cas' until their shoulders bumped together.
"It is." Cas had borrowed one of Dean's faded t-shirts, and the wind off the ocean blew through his messy hair. Dean ran his fingers through it affectionately; Cas closed his eyes, content.
The moon rose further, reflecting over the waves. They watched the silhouettes of families playing in the still sun-warmed shallows, camera flashes like fireflies, and couples strolling leisurely through the sand.
"Hey," Dean said, nudging Cas and pointing at the sky, where stars had begun to appear. "Isn't that your celestial hunter dude? Orion?"
"His belt, yes." Cas tilted his head, staring up into the blue-black. "I suspect the light pollution is too heavy to see the fainter stars."
"You'll have to show me sometime," Dean said, and Cas smiled softly. "How is the ink, anyway? Still healin'?"
Cas pulled up his sleeve and twisted his neck, squinting at his bicep. The skin was still slightly pink, visible even in the pale moonlight. Dean stroked his hand reverently over the ink, raised like Braille under his thumb.
Cas hissed, and Dean froze immediately. "Sorry, dude," he apologized, moving his hand to unmarked skin. "Gotta still be pretty sore, I didn't mean --"
"No," Cas interrupted. "Or, well, yes, it is. But it's mostly just… sensitive."
Dean's eyes shot up, taking in the telltale flush, and his eyebrows rose.
"Sensitive, huh, angel?" he murmured. He pressed harder on one of the bigger stars. Cas bit his lip, goosebumps pebbling visibly over his shoulder. "Hmm." He smoothed his hand down Cas' arm, gentle but firm. "Looks like it's startin' to peel already."
Cas frowned, peering back down at his arm. "Peel? Is that --"
"S'normal," Dean assured him. "Just means it's healing right. Like when you get a sunburn. Well," he amended, eyeing Cas' perfect skin, "for those of us who can get sunburns." He pressed a tiny kiss to the middle of the tattoo, and Cas sucked in a breath. "But you gotta keep bein' careful with the lotion, make sure it doesn't dry out. When's the last time you lubed it up?"
"Um -- this afternoon?"
"Hmph." Dean traced a fingertip over the edges, smoothing the flaking skin. Standing up, he held out a hand. "C'mon. Lemme give you a rubdown."
"Dean," Cas said, taking his hand confusedly, "I'm perfectly capable of --"
"Yeah, yeah." Dean pulled Cas inside, shutting the screen but leaving the sliding door and curtains open, so the hypnotic sound of the waves still filtered in. "I wanna do this for you." He tugged at the hem of the t-shirt. "Take this off."
"My tattoo is on my arm, not my chest," Cas protested half-heartedly, even as he pulled the shirt off.
"Yeah, well, maybe I don't wanna get gross lotion on my favorite Zep shirt," Dean retorted. He manhandled Cas onto the bed, then grabbed the bottle of Aquaphor that Jacob had recommended. Squirting a glob onto his left hand, he dipped a fingertip in and began tracing the outline of the stars.
"How's that, angel?" he said, rubbing the cool lotion over inflamed skin.
"N-nice," Cas said, eyes falling closed.
"Nice," Dean repeated. He smoothed his thumb over the tattoo, from the top star almost touching Cas' collarbone to the last tiny ones halfway down his bicep. He kissed a few of the outlying stars, then traced the tip of his tongue in a connect-the-dots pattern over the edges. He paused, then --
"Oh, ew," he said, making a face. "Remind me not to suck face with Aquaphor."
Cas snorted weakly, but didn't open his eyes. "More?" he asked softly, stretching out his arm.
"Yeah." Dean drew his index finger slowly from star to star, pressing his fingertip into each one. He circled Bellatrix and Betelgeuse, watching Cas' face, and let his breath ghost over the sensitive skin.
"Dean," Cas breathed. "Dean, I want..."
"What, little angel?" Dean bit down lightly at a patch of unmarked skin. "What do you want?"
The flush in Cas' cheeks had deepened to crimson, and his arousal was evident in his slacks.
"You, please," he whispered, holding his arm still.
"You want me?"
Cas opened his eyes, turning a hazy glare to Dean. "Always."
"Jesus." Dean tugged his own shirt off before going to work on Cas' slacks, tugging them reverentially down his thighs, along with his boxers. "Didn't know gettin' inked up was gonna be a turn-on. Should do it more often."
Cas murmured something noncommittal, stretching back on the bed as Dean's lips wandered over his hipbones.
"So fuckin' gorgeous, Cas," Dean said, fingertip finally slipping down Cas' cock. "Dunno what I did to deserve you, but fuck..."
With visible effort, Cas propped himself on his elbows, looking down at Dean. "You're beautiful," he said, voice slightly slurred but honest. "You're perfect."
"Yeah, well." To hide his blush, Dean bent his head further, licking the head of Cas' cock. Cas bit back a gasp, and Dean grinned, smug, taking him in deeper.
"Feel good, angel?" he said, pulling off with a wet sound.
"Yes," Cas hissed. "Please don't -- please don't stop."
Without moving his lips, Dean reached up again, wrapping his hand around Cas' tender, lotion-slick bicep.
Cas arched, his cock leaving smears of precome over Dean's lips. "God, you do love that," Dean whispered.
"You," Cas corrected. Without breaking Dean's grasp, he reached down blindly, fitting his hand over the long-dormant handprint on Dean's left shoulder, and they both sucked in a gasp. "Always you."
Dean moaned against the head of Cas' cock, sending sparks up his spine. He trailed his free hand lower, over Cas' balls and between his legs, rubbing over his perineum. "Do you want --?"
"Yes." Cas bent his legs, pushing into Dean's mouth.
"Uh-uh," Dean chided, backing away slightly. "Ask nicely, angel."
Cas essayed a glare, but Dean just licked down his length, and his head fell back to the pillow.
"Please."
"Good boy," Dean breathed. "Good little angel." He fumbled for the lube, slicking his fingers up without moving his mouth. "So hot like this, comin' apart for me. Yeah?"
Several expressions flickered across Castiel's face as he visibly fought for his implacable self-control, but then Dean rubbed a slick fingertip over his rim, and he choked back a sob.
"More, angel?" At Cas' broken moan, he slid a fingertip inside, just moving gently in and out. He reached his free hand back up to Cas' bicep, tracing slippery trails between the stars.
"Dean." Cas tried to push himself down, but Dean gripped his shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, I know you can take it. Thing is, I wanna do it my way this time."
Cas' eyes flashed, and for a second Dean was pretty sure he was about to get smited. He added a second finger and dipped his head, mouthing along Cas' cock, and Cas' head dropped back to the pillow.
"Good," Dean breathed. He pushed his fingers in deeper. "Good little angel."
Cas' hand twisted in the sheets, and his bicep muscles flexed under Dean's hand.
"So beautiful." Dean licked a long, slow stripe up Cas' length, drinking in the low moan. "My angel of the Lord, beggin' for me. Ain't that right, Castiel?"
Something crackled in the air, and a lightbulb shattered in the bathroom. Suddenly Dean found himself flat on his back with a seraph sinking down on his cock.
"J-Jesus, Cas," Dean gasped with a broken laugh.
Cas ignored him, head thrown back. He fumbled blindly for Dean's hand and pressed it back against his shoulder, letting out a sigh.
Dean tightened his fingers, still careful of the vulnerable skin, and used the leverage to thrust his hips up hard.
"Yes," Cas whispered. He just rocked shallowly, content to let Dean do the work. He reached down to Dean's bicep again, fingertip tracing the invisible outline of his own hand almost absently.
"I feel you," he murmured without opening his eyes. "You feel like fire."
"Sure that's not the -- the needles y'got just stabbed with?" Dean choked out, but he didn't stop the rhythm of his hips.
Cas' eyes opened slowly. He gazed down at Dean with his usual paralyzing intensity, but there was something soft and vulnerable in his eyes, so different than his implacable stare when he had Dean pressed to the bed and writhing.
Dean thrust up harder, and for once Cas just let him, instead of keeping Dean's hips in an inexorable grip to control the pace. He spread his knees, taking Dean's cock deeper still.
"Yeah, baby," Dean coaxed. He dragged his thumb down the triad of stars in the belt, leaving trails of electricity on Cas' skin.
"Alnitak," Cas breathed as Dean's finger lingered on the last star. "A hundred thousand times brighter than the sun."
Dean's eyes shot from the ink to Cas' face, but Cas' head had tipped back again, back arched. He slid his thumb back over the sweat-damp skin, to the second.
"Alnilam." Cas finally started moving in earnest, rising off the bed to meet Dean's thrusts. "Supergiant."
"Cas," Dean hissed. His hips were already beginning to stutter, despite his desperate fight for self-control. "Cas, fuck, Cas, c'mon…"
Cas just locked his ankles under Dean's thighs, strong muscles flexing. His eyes were raised to the ceiling, staring at nothing or everything, and Dean's hand drifted again, trance-like, to settle back on the first star.
"Mintaka," Cas murmured. "A binary star." His voice was raw, sweat dripping down his temples. He leaned back slightly until Dean's cock dragged over his prostate with every thrust, and they both let out twin low groans. "Bound -- to orbit -- another star forever."
Dean blindly grabbed for Cas' hip with his other hand, yanking him down hard. Cas cried out, his head finally tipping forward to meet Dean's gaze He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and then went rigid, muscles thrown into sharp relief in the pale moonlight. Hot wetness spread over Dean's belly, and Cas spasming around his cock finally sent him over the edge, constellations dancing behind his eyelids.
Cas swayed on top of him for a few moments, eyes glassy, still half tuned into the ether. Dean tried to steady him with boneless arms, but he toppled to the bed, pulling off of Dean with a painful squelch.
"Oof," they complained simultaneously.
"Christ," Dean mumbled, his hand now trapped under Cas' tattooed bicep.
"No." Cas crawled to his knees, angelic elegance dissolved into sex-thick stupor, and collapsed on Dean's chest. "He's a hunter. Not Christ."
Dean smiled into the mess of sweaty hair. He vaguely thought about asking Cas to mojo them clean, but just drew a blanket over them both, yawning as his eyes slipped shut.
"Yeah, Cas," he murmured, tightening his arms around the angel. "Yeah, he is."