[D/C BigBang 2013] For Love, For Glory - Chapter Ten [Continued]
❖
By night, Amun-Ra is a city built of dreams.
The gardens come alive with hundreds of twinkling fireflies, the waterfalls and springs gleaming with glitter that has no source. Firelight from torches lines the temples’ outer walls, basking the night in shades of orange and pale red. The statues are dormant. The breeze is cool, and not the harsh kind of cold from the actual desert.
Not an insect buzzes. Not a cloud eclipses the vastly rolling sky above, sprinkled with stars that change from blue, to white, to pink, and then white once more.
Nighttime sunlight, Castiel likes to think of it.
Serenity silences Castiel’s fears of the morning to come. There’s still time to enjoy the little pleasures he has at his disposal: the cold grass beneath his feet, the gentle warmth of Dean’s palm against his own. The squeeze of his fingers, the caress of his thumb, the adoring look in his green eyes.
They walk quietly through the exterior gardens where it’s more grass than actual trees and bushes. The grass reaches well past their hips, but they’ve long given up trying to be careful not to trip over stray stones. There’s nothing but smooth earth under the soles of their feet, and it adds to the detached feeling of floating across the field.
Dean will occasionally stop, grip the hair on the back of Castiel’s neck, and kiss him. Seven times exactly, he’s done this, and it’s a surprise every single time. A light press of lips, chaste and tender, and Castiel can feel his heart do happy flips in his chest.
From the distance, the sound of music drifts in the wind. A guitar, or maybe two, a violin, and the smoothest voice Castiel has ever heard. Two voices now, a man and a woman, singing along to a slow and soulful ballad, with high notes make goosebumps erupt along Castiel’s arms.
He pulls Dean in the direction of the music; close enough to the camp to listen, but not enough to be seen in the dark.
The song sounds western, despite the words being in German. It’s a refreshing change from the war songs that have been popular for the last couple of years, and Castiel can’t keep himself from swaying to the sensual beat.
“What’s it say?” Dean asks, looking at Castiel through narrowed eyes.
Castiel answers him with a smile, and his available hand to Dean’s lower back.
“Whoa, hold up there, champ. I don’t dance.” He doesn’t pull away from Castiel’s hold.
“Last night on Earth, Dean. You wouldn’t want to look back in the afterlife and regret not having danced at least once in your life.”
Reluctant, Dean frowns down at Castiel, but he’s already in position. Chest to chest, hands clasped, and Dean’s free hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Smartass.”
Castiel chuckles. “No one is watching us.”
Dean wrinkles his nose, looking indignant. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“Be quiet, Dean.”
Ignoring the harrumph he gets, Castiel guides the two of them in a slow circle. Dean eventually eases into a sardonic smile Castiel doesn’t take seriously. Adamant to make the dance as smooth as possible, Castiel steps closer, and it’s only when Dean looks down, eyes fixed on the buttons of Castiel’s shirt that Castiel pulls them flush together.
He gives Dean a warm smile he hopes conveys contentment, but Dean is frowning again. “What is it?”
“You’re going too slow,” Dean says, shrugging awkwardly.
“All right,” Castiel says, and slows to a stop. “You lead.”
The corner of Dean’s mouth twitches, but he stows whatever protest he was about to make. Clearing his throat, and squaring his shoulders, Dean gives his head a tiny nod, to which Castiel answers with a slight bow.
They take off, starting with a slow to-and-fro motion fast enough to keep up with the smooth tempo of the song. Castiel is mildly surprised when Dean proves to be able to keep to the rhythm, spinning him in a slow circle when the time is right.
Dean holds him tight, chest against chest, the tips of their shoes brushing occasionally. Their foreheads meet, noses bumping as they sway to the distant sound of the guitars.
Castiel refrains from closing his eyes, even though he wants to. While losing himself to the soothing dance, the safety and comfort of Dean’s arms is what he desires most, all the while looking into Dean’s shimmering eyes.
The intimacy between them becomes tangible, simmering hot in Castiel’s stomach. Unresolved arousal begins to stir at the sight of Dean’s parted lips, his tongue darting out to wet them. They move together, a slow burn that slowly consumes them both.
Castiel moves both of his hands to drape them above Dean’s shoulders, fingertips touching Dean’s hair. Dean places his own hands around Castiel, touching his back and shielding him from the outside world.
They breathe each other’s air, open mouths brushing in not-quite kisses as their feet continue to drag in tandem. Castiel does find he loses himself in the presence of Dean, singing along in hushed whispers to the whimsical song. A part of him desperately wishes for Dean to understand the words, but the smile that shines in those green eyes tells Castiel that he does. Whatever power, whatever miracle - Dean understands the cosmic declaration of love and soul-deep devotion Castiel is dedicating to him; the foreign language presents no barrier.
Castiel’s hands slide from the back of Dean’s head to caress his face, touching the stubbled cheeks he desires to feel tickling the inside of his thighs. Thumbs slide over spit-slicked lips, and he can’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing them.
The floor drops away from under his feet, but it’s only Dean who is slowly guiding them both onto the ground.
“Again?” Castiel asks with a chuckle, tipping his head back when Dean mouths at his neck.
“Time to return the favor.” Dean grins against his neck, and Castiel can feel the perfect set of teeth on heated skin.
Castiel props himself up on his elbows, looks down at Dean who is lying between his legs, mouth sucking at his collarbone. The tall grass offers them privacy out in the open, but they’ll have to be quiet. The challenge riles Castiel up, causing him to bite his own lip with exciting pleasure.
Dean is aware of this too, and places a finger in front of his own lips to silence him. Castiel nods as he watches him slide lower down his body, kissing both fabric and skin as he goes.
Head tipped back, Castiel counts the stars, both real and unreal when Dean’s mouth latches onto his clothed crotch, gently massaging. Castiel groans, knocking his knees further apart, granting Dean more space for him to move freely.
His breath quickens, stomach doing pleasant flips when Dean’s fingers deftly undo his button and zipper, tugging it down with little effort. Ankles dig into soft dirt the moment Dean blows over the moist spot on his underwear.
Castiel angles himself for better balance to be able to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, softly pulling on the pale tufts to urge him on.
Dean presses a kiss beside Castiel’s navel, and looks up at him. It’s a request for permission, and Castiel grants it with a weak nod.
The glorious heat that envelops him is pure, absolute bliss.
Nails dig into fresh dirt and soft hair; waves of ecstasy twisting Castiel’s stomach into knots of want and need. He pants, moans, mewls when Dean sucks him without granting him a second to breathe.
Castiel grunts, arches his back, and pushes his hips forward; anything for more of that ground-shaking suction, for the heat of Dean’s mouth.
He breaks with a whimper not long after, chest bursting with warmth, and legs trembling as Dean drinks him whole.
Castiel falls back, spent, with a quiet laugh that is breathy and shaky. His body glows with bone-deep satisfaction, fingers and toes tingling with happiness.
Dean comes into view above him, mouth slick and swollen as he smirks, and presses a kiss to Castiel’s lips. It’s dirty and obscene, but Castiel’s blood burns hot.
He wants to say something, anything that can express the endless bundle of gratitude he carries within him, but Castiel fears that no words will be able to demonstrate it the way it is. Instead, Castiel says “I love you, too,” because it’s the only thing he can possibly think of.
Dean blinks, and after a long moment of consideration, he nods. He says nothing, though, and snatches yet another kiss from Castiel’s mouth. Their fingers thread together, a tender tangle under the night sky and above a bed of grass. It’s more than Castiel ever dreamed of.
“How you feeling?” Dean eventually asks, cuddling Castiel’s neck.
Satisfied, elated, scared, sore, endless. “Happy,” he says instead.
Dean tries to form words, his mouth moving but nothing coming out, until he gives up. He lowers himself onto Castiel’s body, head over his chest, forehead to Castiel’s neck.
The music has long since ended, as well as the indistinct chatter of soldiers. Only the fire’s crackle interrupts the otherwise peaceful nighttime silence.
Castiel’s hand touches Dean’s back in smooth strokes, enjoying the nice weight and presence of him. He presses a kiss to the top of his head.
They stay for long moments, enjoying the company and the soothing touches in the nighttime breeze, but the cold eventually sets in. It’s when Dean begins to shiver that Castiel suggests they head back to their lodging.
Dean grumbles, and reluctantly gets up.
“We should rest,” Castiel says, trying to talk some sense into him. “The morning is going to be a long one.”
“Yeah, I guess.” His harsh bitterness dwindles when Castiel steals a kiss. “Or we could just, you know, enjoy the rest of the night.”
Castiel tucks himself back into his pants and zips up, half-grinning. “I prefer that idea much more.”
Dean leads him to the outskirts of the camp, hidden amongst the palm trees and statues. It’s only then that Castiel remembers why they had wandered out into the night in the first place, when he spots a basket nestled in a bed of grass.
“Huh. Guess she wasn’t pulling our leg,” Dean says, kneeling beside the basket and opening the flap.
Castiel takes a peek inside, and his stomach rumbles at the sight of food. A bottle or wine is placed beside it. The food should be cold by now, but Castiel doubts that will be a problem.
“Yahtzee.” Handing the bottle over to Castiel, Dean grabs the basket.
On their way back to the hut, in the dead of night, Dean takes Castiel’s hand and gives it a squeeze.
❖
The night drifts on in a haze of happiness eclipsed by unspoken weariness.
They tiptoe around each other until Sam stirs, and then they all eat, drink, and share the chocolate bar Bela had given Sam that afternoon.
They tell jokes, laugh when they each take turns in remembering the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to them. Sam chokes on a mouthful of wine, and Castiel laughs so hard he snorts like a hog, which in turn makes Dean laugh until he cries.
They fall into silence, just enjoying each others’ company in the stillness of waiting, until it becomes too much.
Sam excuses himself, says he’ll take a walk until the sun rises, and as he strides out the door with slumped shoulders, Dean and Castiel shut the door behind him.
The two of them make love one more time, this time without restraints, clothing, or walls between them. Naked and vulnerable, they cry out for each other, hold each other, kiss each other senseless until the first bursts of gold drifts in through the windows.
Castiel is standing by the window, covered in his sheet, when Dean comes up behind him. Wrapping his arms around the wide hips, Dean presses a kiss to his naked shoulder, where darkening teeth marks beckon for attention.
Castiel leans his head against the side of Dean’s, taking his hands and joining their fingers together.
It’s a poignant dawn, serene and gentle as it paints the city’s outskirts in hues of pink and gold.
They don’t speak.
Dean holds him, safe in his arms.
Castiel hums a song, and squeezes his fingers.
This is where he wants to be, for now and forever.
Dean has found his home, his sanctuary, and he doesn’t want to let it go.
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