[FIC]: Echo the Fall (Dean/Castiel, Adult)
Title: Echo the Fall
Author: maboheme @ chocolate_muse
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Count: ~600
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to the CW and Kripke. I own nothing and no one.
Notes: Set early S5. Written for my spn_30snapshots table to the prompt dust.
Summary: There are the things you know.
::
There are the things you know: the first words that created the world, the right song to breathe life into newborn flesh. There are the things you come to learn: in the unsteady hours just after a hunt, high on adrenaline and battle, smelling like smoke, like blood, like ash, you learn Dean.
::
It's Thursday, and you are covered in the dust of the dying.
You fall onto another motel bed in another town far from the lights of cities in motion. You learn the feel of Dean's rough hands on oversensitive skin. You memorize the broken noises you make together when you fight, when you tussle, when you grapple for dominance, when you finally relent and surrender, tangle together in the rough sheets. You learn peace inside each other; you learn completion.
::
There's the cool feel of Dean's amulet against your skin, the hot press of his unclothed body, slick sweat sliding along back and spine, between crease and crack. There's the way he looks at you when he opens, when you're pushing inside of him, when you take and he gives; when you give and he takes.
There's the heat of the night, when you're both stained in each other's seed, and there's the way you bind yourself to him, when every word you speak becomes an invocation of the spirit. There's the answering heat and fire moving deep inside you when he calls your name as he breaks: Castiel.
There's damnation and salvation in the same breath.
It tastes like Dean.
::
Scrabbling through the dust on the side of the road in the weathered plains of the Badlands. Red sky above, red earth below, and your bodies are covered in the red blood of those you could not save. For a moment there's stillness. Then there are Dean's palms clutching at you as he pulls you to your feet, his fingers rough and warm gripping your face, and there are your hands stripping him of his torn shirt, the collar ringed in sweat and dried in blood. There's the taste of him on your lips when you kiss -- hints of dirt and salt and sulfur, all the things that cling to his skin, his hair, his clothes.
You're both trembling and fighting for air, for control. You tell him that his body is yours, that no one else gets to possess him like this, not anymore. Not Michael. Not Heaven, not Hell. Dean is yours. When he gives himself to you, he pulls you inside of him, and it feels like he is taking the whole of you and offering all that he is in return.
You don't know what it is to fall, but you think it must be similar to this. You feel the long pull of your entire lifespan, the sparking of grace and elemental fire. You hear the voices of all your Father's creations chorused in song. You find the source and the source is nameless.
So you take this pleasure, this gift. You take Dean's hands, his body, his words. You take his mouth, his sex, his breath, and his soul. You take the world, because the world is Dean's.
Dean lets you take it all, and only then do you let yourself fall.
::
Author: maboheme @ chocolate_muse
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Count: ~600
Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to the CW and Kripke. I own nothing and no one.
Notes: Set early S5. Written for my spn_30snapshots table to the prompt dust.
Summary: There are the things you know.
::
There are the things you know: the first words that created the world, the right song to breathe life into newborn flesh. There are the things you come to learn: in the unsteady hours just after a hunt, high on adrenaline and battle, smelling like smoke, like blood, like ash, you learn Dean.
::
It's Thursday, and you are covered in the dust of the dying.
You fall onto another motel bed in another town far from the lights of cities in motion. You learn the feel of Dean's rough hands on oversensitive skin. You memorize the broken noises you make together when you fight, when you tussle, when you grapple for dominance, when you finally relent and surrender, tangle together in the rough sheets. You learn peace inside each other; you learn completion.
::
There's the cool feel of Dean's amulet against your skin, the hot press of his unclothed body, slick sweat sliding along back and spine, between crease and crack. There's the way he looks at you when he opens, when you're pushing inside of him, when you take and he gives; when you give and he takes.
There's the heat of the night, when you're both stained in each other's seed, and there's the way you bind yourself to him, when every word you speak becomes an invocation of the spirit. There's the answering heat and fire moving deep inside you when he calls your name as he breaks: Castiel.
There's damnation and salvation in the same breath.
It tastes like Dean.
::
Scrabbling through the dust on the side of the road in the weathered plains of the Badlands. Red sky above, red earth below, and your bodies are covered in the red blood of those you could not save. For a moment there's stillness. Then there are Dean's palms clutching at you as he pulls you to your feet, his fingers rough and warm gripping your face, and there are your hands stripping him of his torn shirt, the collar ringed in sweat and dried in blood. There's the taste of him on your lips when you kiss -- hints of dirt and salt and sulfur, all the things that cling to his skin, his hair, his clothes.
You're both trembling and fighting for air, for control. You tell him that his body is yours, that no one else gets to possess him like this, not anymore. Not Michael. Not Heaven, not Hell. Dean is yours. When he gives himself to you, he pulls you inside of him, and it feels like he is taking the whole of you and offering all that he is in return.
You don't know what it is to fall, but you think it must be similar to this. You feel the long pull of your entire lifespan, the sparking of grace and elemental fire. You hear the voices of all your Father's creations chorused in song. You find the source and the source is nameless.
So you take this pleasure, this gift. You take Dean's hands, his body, his words. You take his mouth, his sex, his breath, and his soul. You take the world, because the world is Dean's.
Dean lets you take it all, and only then do you let yourself fall.
::