Work Text:
This is the art in question.
Dean grimaces as the dark gray clouds roll in heavy over the mountainside with speed, the cooling water vapor threatening to just drop at any moment. Cas comes up to Dean’s side, mug in hand that’s steaming with freshly brewed tea.
“Well, looks like our hike’s canceled.”
Dean notices how the wind’s picking up, the leaves and branches swaying around in a blur as the first few droplets begin to fall with heavy thuds, “Yeah- guess it is.”
“Hey it’s not so bad…” Castiel sets his mug down on the nearby kitchen counter, coming up behind Dean and encircling his waist with his arms, “We have things we can do to pass the time, right?”
Dean smiles, resting a single hand over Castiel’s interlocked ones, “Only if you’re up to it.”
There’s a snort from behind Dean’s shoulder, “You act as though I’m made of porcelain. I’m not fragile Dean, I can have sexual intercourse when I want.”
“Why do you always have to sound like a professional or somethin’?”
“Because I’m professional.”
Dean chuckles, the drops growing in number and size, and soon the sun is cut out by the thick cloud formation that drops its load onto the forest below. Soon, the trees are cut out by a dense wall of precipitation so thick it looks like heavy fog. The sound against the roof tiles reassures the fact that it’s raining like hell out there.
“Although this view is beautiful-” Cas says quietly into Dean’s shoulder, fingers starting to explore the skin underneath Dean’s tee, “I want to see someone I really love naked.”
Dean smiles, “I’ll call up Gordon Ramsay straight away.”
There’s a muffled noise behind Dean, a few more moments passing before Cas responds, “Now, while I enjoy his dishes and his tirades against incompetent chefs, I shall never- ever in my life see that man naked. I am okay with this. You however…” Dean gets spun around to find Cas’ lips pressed to his own, “should get fined every time you leave our room with a shirt on.”
“Do you want me to become a Chip and Dale dancer? Then I’d have to be shirtless for my career.”
“You wouldn’t have one.” Dean’s about to ask why when Cas growls in his ear, “I wouldn’t even let you get past our threshold before I’d put your body to good use.”
So in turn, that’s how they slowly and sloppily make their way to their room. They make a few lengthy stops, like at the couch or a few times on the floor, the whole time their lips never leaving the other’s. When the door flies back, it’s a relief, Dean undoing the buttons on Cas’ dress shirt (why the man he loves always had to dress like a tax accountant, Dean will never know) with rushed fingers as Cas just simply shucks Dean’s tee off.
Cas falls onto the bed first, the back of his knees meeting the mattress and bending, back hitting the sheets as Dean follows him with his mouth. Cas take a few fingers and hooks them onto the loops of Dean’s jeans, pulling him closer as he grinds his hips against his.
Dean manages to get the last pesky, damn button undone, pulling the fabric off of Cas to expose the vast expanse of smooth, tanned skin. Dean smirks as Cas’ eyes meet his own, pupil blown, vibrant blue taking a step back to allow his attraction to replace his usual iris complexion.
The rest of their clothes are removed, Dean undoing the fly to his jean’s last, Cas’ gaze fixated on the fingers on the zipper as it gets pulled down. The rain outside rushes against the walls and roof of the house, causing a buzz to fill the air that’s similar to the one in Dean’s veins.
In no time, they’re already against each other. Skin on skin, flushed and breathless.
“Cas…”
“Dean…”
Dean can’t help but lose himself in the sensation that is Cas, hips rocking forward and hands draping over Cas’ skin, beading with a thin sheet of sweat and flushing so beautifully. Dean brings his forehead near Cas’, feeling the soft puffs of breath on his face, the small noises Cas is making as Dean’s knees brace the mattress and rock back and forth to let him do the same thing to Cas. Cas’ hands hold onto his waist, fingers gripping onto his hips as they rock and roll forward into him. The mattress below slides along with them, Cas not able to hold back the burning moan from his throat, Dean’s blood boiling in his veins as he places kisses along any inch of Cas he can reach.
“Good?” Dean asks breathlessly, wanting to know if he was hurting Cas or was doing something wrong.
All he gets is Cas throwing his head back and crying out, fingers tightening and legs coming up to drape Dean’s form.
“Close… enough.”
Dean presses his lips to the pulse point of Cas’ neck, feeling the man he love’s fingers trail up the dips and curves of his back, nails slightly catching on Dean’s skin.
“Forty-three.”
Dean’s brows scrunch together, “What?”
Cas has to take a moment to take a breath, Dean’s hips moving just right along his own, “Forty-three freckles that I’ve counted. No more, no- less.”
“You’ve…” Dean smiles warmly, “You’ve been counting my freckles?”
Cas nods, “For quite… some time.”
Dean smirks, “I have them on… my back you know.”
“All the more reason… you can walk around shirtless.”
Dean just answers that with his own reply, rolling into Castiel so hard that he is pushed against headboard by the end of it, Castiel’s head braced by countless pillows and arms flung up to grab the wood behind him. Cas’ mouth falls open, a mixture of a moan and a cut off breath rolling over his separated and chapped lips. His eyelids flutter shut, lashes kissing his cheeks for a split second as his body lets the movements flow through his nerves and up to his brain.
“Too much?”
Cas drops one hand to the bed, fingers curling in the sheets, “Dean- I think I’m gonna-”
Dean just kisses Cas instead, telling him it’s okay and that he can let go. Cas kisses back in earnest, lips parting to let his teeth snag Dean’s bottom lip as he shudders out another breath. Dean syncs up with the pelting rain against the window.
Thrum, thrum.
“Dean- Dean-”
Cas loses himself in Dean’s shoulder, Dean feeling Cas grip onto him like he was the only thing to keep him grounded. Cas falls against the bed, his back meeting the sheets from where it had arched, his skin hot and slick against Dean’s. Just the image of Cas letting go beneath him is enough to set Dean off edge, heart thumping in his chest as bloods rushes through his veins and his body cracks in electricity like the lightening outside.
Dean falls against Cas’ torso, completely spent. Fingers brush up his arms, lips pressing softly to his temple.
“You have freckles on your arms and shoulders too…”
Dean smiles against Cas’ skin, “Do you mind counting them for me?”
“Not at all.”