[FIC]: In Thy Orisons, Be All My Sins Remember’d (Dean/Castiel, Adult)
[in thy orisons, be all my sins remember’d]
SPN. Dean/Castiel. R. ~870 words. Vague S4. Title from Shakespeare.
for k
†
Why me? Dean asks, his words shaking loose in the quiet night.
Because I held your heart in my hands, Castiel whispers against Dean's neck. Because I know your soul.
Dean bends over, and Castiel's hands massage across his broad shoulders, palms curling over the graceful arch of his bowed back. His mouth slides down the knobs of Dean's spine, finding secrets, finding truths.
They lie beneath the waning moon, in the slow slumber of the autumn earth, curled together in a bed of fallen golden leaves. The world is covered in a blanket of heavy night, like a pair of dark wings spreading across the sky, closing in all around them. Safety, protection, Castiel tells Dean.
For a time Castiel touches Dean, fascinated as he always is by the gentle slope of Dean's body. The strong and wide span of his shoulders. The high crest of his hipbones. The bow of his legs. The curve of his sex. Castiel is fascinated by Dean, who so often gives his body because he believes that it is all he has to give. Dean, who speaks his feelings, needs and wants through the flex of his muscles, the tilt of his hips.
Castiel likes to linger in the hollow between Dean's ribcage. There he traces his name into Dean's skin with his saliva, presses in light with his teeth; he leaves his mark, his claim, along the span of each rib bone. Sometimes he whispers a prayer there in the smooth groove of pale skin: words of protection, of solace.
When Dean stretches out, his body moving long and fluid, Castiel covers him completely. Castiel has only ever known this kind of desire, this kind of want, this kind of peace, in Dean's arms. Sometimes he wants to sink so deep into Dean, sink down beneath Dean's skin. Peel back the flesh, sinew and bone to touch his soul again. To know the feel of Dean's soul in his hands again; the true weight of him in his palm.
Dean groans softly, and Castiel reaches out, catches Dean's wrists, pulls them over his head. Dean is spread out underneath him like an offering.
Cas, Dean says, You don't have to -
Let me give you this Dean, Castiel says, pleading with words and lips and hands. Let me love you, he whispers.
Dean shuts his eyes, groans as if in pain. God, Cas, he breathes. Please.
Castiel leans closer and kisses Dean's temple, tastes the salt on his brow. Zirdo tol nonci, he whispers, bringing Dean closer to him, entwining their bodies.
I'm not, Dean says, his wet gasps landing heavy against Castiel's throat. I'm not good for you.
Don't be foolish, Castiel says, fingers tracing along the hollow dip of Dean's collarbone, along the outline of his pecs, circling the ring of a nipple. You are the only good thing for me, he whispers.
Dean turns his head to meet Castiel's eyes, whispering, Why?
Do you remember us together in hell? Castiel asks, trailing his fingers over Dean's heart. Mapping its soft, steady beat.
Dean shivers, shakes his head. I don't, he says, voice thick and rough.
When you were lost in the darkness, I carried you, Castiel says, and he bends to lick the shadows from Dean's eyes.
Dean moans, his whole body tensing, muscles gone taut. Yeah?
I held you, Castiel continues, words gentle, soothing. And I loved you even then.
With a shiver and a shaky exhale, Dean turns further into Castiel's body, his breath falling hot and moist along Castiel's neck. Fuck, he whispers.
Castiel smiles, leaning in for a kiss. He pushes his breath into Dean's mouth, and their tongues roll together, caressing, lazy and soft. In the moments that follow, Castiel explores Dean, first with his hands, then his mouth. He maps hard, smooth curves with the tip of his tongue, movements that send Dean shuddering beneath him, every muscle in his body uncoiling, humming, singing.
When Castiel settles their bodies together, he rocks his erection down against Dean's own. They move in sync, grip and twist and slide, mouths opening to each other, hips moving in a slow, relentless tide.
Castiel suspects there is a hidden magic here in the sliding together of their warm, slick skin. A secret ritual that can only be shared in the space between the lean meat of their bodies.
Cas, Dean groans, thrusting against his thigh, digging his fingers deep into Castiel's side.
I'm here, Castiel says, hands pressing against Dean's hips, teeth against his shoulder. There's a soft prayer on Dean's lips, and Castiel answers it with his own words of blessed devotion. Their hips roll, their lips linger.
You are bound to me and I to you, Castiel whispers when he reaches out and touches the soft vulnerable place below Dean's navel, touches that vulnerable place inside Dean's heart.
Dean's eyelids flutter open, his breath catches. Cas, he whispers. Please.
I'm with you, Castiel whispers, holding Dean's face in his hands, staring into the dark pools of his eyes. Dean, I'm always with you.
When he kisses Dean again, the stars dance above them, the earth spins below them.
- - -
SPN. Dean/Castiel. R. ~870 words. Vague S4. Title from Shakespeare.
for k
†
Why me? Dean asks, his words shaking loose in the quiet night.
Because I held your heart in my hands, Castiel whispers against Dean's neck. Because I know your soul.
Dean bends over, and Castiel's hands massage across his broad shoulders, palms curling over the graceful arch of his bowed back. His mouth slides down the knobs of Dean's spine, finding secrets, finding truths.
They lie beneath the waning moon, in the slow slumber of the autumn earth, curled together in a bed of fallen golden leaves. The world is covered in a blanket of heavy night, like a pair of dark wings spreading across the sky, closing in all around them. Safety, protection, Castiel tells Dean.
For a time Castiel touches Dean, fascinated as he always is by the gentle slope of Dean's body. The strong and wide span of his shoulders. The high crest of his hipbones. The bow of his legs. The curve of his sex. Castiel is fascinated by Dean, who so often gives his body because he believes that it is all he has to give. Dean, who speaks his feelings, needs and wants through the flex of his muscles, the tilt of his hips.
Castiel likes to linger in the hollow between Dean's ribcage. There he traces his name into Dean's skin with his saliva, presses in light with his teeth; he leaves his mark, his claim, along the span of each rib bone. Sometimes he whispers a prayer there in the smooth groove of pale skin: words of protection, of solace.
When Dean stretches out, his body moving long and fluid, Castiel covers him completely. Castiel has only ever known this kind of desire, this kind of want, this kind of peace, in Dean's arms. Sometimes he wants to sink so deep into Dean, sink down beneath Dean's skin. Peel back the flesh, sinew and bone to touch his soul again. To know the feel of Dean's soul in his hands again; the true weight of him in his palm.
Dean groans softly, and Castiel reaches out, catches Dean's wrists, pulls them over his head. Dean is spread out underneath him like an offering.
Cas, Dean says, You don't have to -
Let me give you this Dean, Castiel says, pleading with words and lips and hands. Let me love you, he whispers.
Dean shuts his eyes, groans as if in pain. God, Cas, he breathes. Please.
Castiel leans closer and kisses Dean's temple, tastes the salt on his brow. Zirdo tol nonci, he whispers, bringing Dean closer to him, entwining their bodies.
I'm not, Dean says, his wet gasps landing heavy against Castiel's throat. I'm not good for you.
Don't be foolish, Castiel says, fingers tracing along the hollow dip of Dean's collarbone, along the outline of his pecs, circling the ring of a nipple. You are the only good thing for me, he whispers.
Dean turns his head to meet Castiel's eyes, whispering, Why?
Do you remember us together in hell? Castiel asks, trailing his fingers over Dean's heart. Mapping its soft, steady beat.
Dean shivers, shakes his head. I don't, he says, voice thick and rough.
When you were lost in the darkness, I carried you, Castiel says, and he bends to lick the shadows from Dean's eyes.
Dean moans, his whole body tensing, muscles gone taut. Yeah?
I held you, Castiel continues, words gentle, soothing. And I loved you even then.
With a shiver and a shaky exhale, Dean turns further into Castiel's body, his breath falling hot and moist along Castiel's neck. Fuck, he whispers.
Castiel smiles, leaning in for a kiss. He pushes his breath into Dean's mouth, and their tongues roll together, caressing, lazy and soft. In the moments that follow, Castiel explores Dean, first with his hands, then his mouth. He maps hard, smooth curves with the tip of his tongue, movements that send Dean shuddering beneath him, every muscle in his body uncoiling, humming, singing.
When Castiel settles their bodies together, he rocks his erection down against Dean's own. They move in sync, grip and twist and slide, mouths opening to each other, hips moving in a slow, relentless tide.
Castiel suspects there is a hidden magic here in the sliding together of their warm, slick skin. A secret ritual that can only be shared in the space between the lean meat of their bodies.
Cas, Dean groans, thrusting against his thigh, digging his fingers deep into Castiel's side.
I'm here, Castiel says, hands pressing against Dean's hips, teeth against his shoulder. There's a soft prayer on Dean's lips, and Castiel answers it with his own words of blessed devotion. Their hips roll, their lips linger.
You are bound to me and I to you, Castiel whispers when he reaches out and touches the soft vulnerable place below Dean's navel, touches that vulnerable place inside Dean's heart.
Dean's eyelids flutter open, his breath catches. Cas, he whispers. Please.
I'm with you, Castiel whispers, holding Dean's face in his hands, staring into the dark pools of his eyes. Dean, I'm always with you.
When he kisses Dean again, the stars dance above them, the earth spins below them.
- - -