moonlettuce | Fic: The Heavens Murmur Your Name, SPN, Dean/Castiel

Title: The Heavens Murmur Your Name
Author: Claire
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Summary: Castiel's lips write language against Dean's flesh
Notes: Originally written for the following prompt in

comment_fic: SPN, Dean/Castiel, speaking archaic languages.

Neither of them bother turning on the light as they stumble through the motel room door, the flickering neon of the sign outside the window illuminating the world in shades of blue.

"Cas, Cas, Cas--"

Castiel's name is a mantra as Dean reaches for him, sealing their lips together as Dean pushes Castiel's coat off his shoulders to pool at their feet. Dean tastes like ashes and smoke, like blood and sweat. He tastes like a chance given to Castiel by a demon he is beginning to understand more and more, kinship given to them by the simple fact of them both loving a Winchester.

Castiel can still see it, if he closes his eyes. Demon coming at Dean, too close and too fast and too far away from Castiel, until Ruby had come from nowhere, blade moving and eyes meeting Castiel's for a brief moment before she turned back to the fight.

But Dean is still here, whole and alive, and Castiel will defend Ruby to the entire Host because of that, if he must.

"Cas--"

Dean's voice brings him back to the present, fingers in his hair as Dean tries to tug him closer, the frown when Castiel pulls out of his grip quickly morphing into a grin as he slides gracefully to his knees.

"Hell, yes--"

Castiel leans forward as he pushes Dean's shirt up, tongue darting out to run along the shallow groove where a demon's knife had come too close.

Fingers card back through his hair as Dean tries to get him to move.

"C'mon, Cas, you're killin' me here--"

And Castiel knows what Dean wants, hard and hot and straining against his jeans. Knows what Dean wants and ignores it as he continues to map Dean's body with his tongue, as his hands pull at Dean's clothes, torn and bloody and beyond saving.

He murmurs words against Dean's skin as he undresses him, fingers pressing into Dean's hip as Castiel's lips write language against flesh. Words not spoken in millennia, unheard outside of Heaven, sink into Dean's skin, branded into his soul by Castiel's touch. And when the final words have flowed across Dean's skin, a benediction written in fire, Castiel looks up at Dean, beaten and bloody and glorious, and finally, finally, takes him inside.