La Petite Mort

You've been avoiding cas for days. Not that he deserves it, he's everything you could ever hope for in a boyfriend.

He listens to every word that falls from your lips like it's gods word. He's present, careful, and highly protective.

Only one problem, it had recently dawned on you, after he casually mentioned an estimate of how old he was, that castiel (much like he had everything else) would more than likely outlive you.

You would grow old and pass, if you were lucky enough to live that long, and castiel would continue living, experiencing evolution and life.

you didn't mean to avoid him as bad as you have been, in all honestly you weren't sure how it spiraled that much.

You could feel his heavy and confused gaze on you, which didn't make it any easier.

 Later cas found you in your room, tidying what you could to ease your mind. "You've been avoiding me" he states. Your actions cease and you turn towards him. His mouth was down turned, his eyes were assessing you as if he was looking for below surface level damages

"Have I done something to offend you?" He asked. It saddened you even further because of the fact that it had been affecting him enough to blame himself.

Your eyebrows knitted, a frown settled on your face as you shook your head, guilt gnawing at your chest. Your hand moved to the stubble along his jaw, and you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips "No baby, I'm just not feeling too good." You said. It wasn't a lie per se, it just wasn't the full truth.

He blinked, his expression mimicking yours, somewhat satisfied by the kiss but still worried, "it makes you feel better to be away from me? Would you like me to lea-"

You cut him off "no cas, I love being around you I'm just- I was being selfish, I'm sorry." You assured him. Cas relaxed slightly, melting into your touch.

He knew you weren't telling him everything, but he had come to learn that humans need time to regulate with their emotions sometimes, and he respected it.

 A few days later, you and cas went out for a supply run. Just to restock on essentials; beer, eggs, Greek yogurt, vegan ice cream that Sam is currently obsessed with, and some extra things for yourself.

He followed you through the store, trying to be as much help as he could. You looked over the items in the cart before entering the checkout line "Wait, I forgot deans ribs." You muttered to yourself, "cas-" you turned to ask if he could get them for you but he was gone, in his place stood a woman with a conniving smile "sorry, castiel had to go" she spoke.

Before you could react she pressed her finger to your forehead and it went dark.

 When cas returned with the ribs, you were nowhere in sight and the cart was exactly how it was when he left worry immediately set in.

He searched began searching the whole store panic setting in fast as he dialed deans number.

"Hey don't forget my-"

"Dean I can't find her" he cuts off dean.

"Can't find who?" Dean asks, tone changing completely.

Cas answers with your name "I went to find ribs and when I came back she was gone" his rushes through every isle, hoping that you were just off looking for something.

It was times like that when Castile regretted having warded your ribs.

"Son of a bitch! Alright just- just come home let's figure this out"

"I have to find her" cas told him.

"And we will. Just get here."

Your eyes opened without much resistance, you looked around the brightly lit room, struggling against the chair that had you cuffed to it.

You knew where you were, it was the same place the angels had taken Adam before he was offered up to be Michael’s vessel.

Suddenly the angel from before appeared in front of you. She stood cockily as you glared at her "What the hell is this?" You asked through clenched teeth.

She smiled "this, is where you'll be spending your last moments" she wnswered. Your heart plummeted "what you're gonna kill me?" You asked.

She laughed "well not immediately, no. I'm gonna make you suffer a little bit, give poor castiel a taste of his own medicine"

You tensed in your chair "so angels are torturing now. Good to know you and demons-" you were cut off by a harsh slap across your face, your ear rang and your face stung.

"How dare you compare me to those mutts" she grabbed your jaw tightly making you wince. "I am gonna have so much fun with you. And don't bother praying to your angel friend. He can't hear you"

And then it began.

 Castiel hadn't stopped searching. Sam, Dean were doing interrogations. Castiel’s hope dwindled by the second. He went through angel groups, demon groups and still had nothing.

It worried him that you'd been gone for two days, you hadn’t reached out somehow. A call, text, even a prayer. Because you always found a way even in impossible circumstances.

He stood in the middle of what was a group of demons, now just corpses. When a small and tired voice infiltrated his ears.

 Your body ached in ways you'd never experienced. Your skin was tight and itching from layers of dried blood. You were positive half of the bones in your upper body were broken.

Your stomach leaked blood from a deep, aching, stab wound. Your hands were still bound so you couldn't slow the bleeding. Tears fell freely down your face as you struggled to breathe. Your body was ready to give but you were too stubborn to give up just yet.

'Cas I need you, I can't hold on much longer. I need you to hear me… please'

When he heard your broken voice he sprang into action. He teleported to the bunker to grab Sam and dean and teleported them to where you were being held.

The three of them handled the angels standing gaurd outside of the warehouse in a quick and messy fashion.

When he stepped inside his eyes immediately landed on you. Your body was limp in the chair and the smell of your blood was strong.

"Oh my god" Sam and dean froze when they saw the state of you. They had tortured and killed but never in their time on earth had they seen something as bad as this.

Castiel had never moved as fast as he had moved to get to you. He checked your pulse to find a weak heartbeat

"Is she alive?" Sam asked?

Cas grabbed your swollen and bruised face gently, "barley. I cannot heal her completely, her condition is bad." He broke the steel binds of the chair, then pressed his hand to your chest, letting his grace work as best as it could.

Your body healed enough to strengthen your heartbeat but you still needed to see a doctor.

"Find the angel who did this, and kill her" cas demanded lowly before taking her in his arms and disappearing.

 When you finally woke up at the hostpital, you let out a sound of relief. castiel was standing above you, holding your hand tight. You gave him a weak smile "you came for me" your voice barely audible.

Cas eyebrows knitted sadly, as if the sight of you brought him physical pain. "I will always save you." He promised.

As your condition bettered they released you from the hostpital. Every time you remembered how close to death you were your thoughts spiraled.

You spent more time crying and avoiding castiel than anything. It was eating you alive inside.

When your bedroom door opened you fully expected to see castiel standing there, but it wasn't. Instead it was Sam. He wore the same look he's been giving you since he walked in and seen you in the hospital.

He sat down on the edge of your bed, "do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

You avoided his face, curling into yourself "I'm fine Sammy" you said. Which again, wasn't a lie, but not the full truth either.

He gives you a look, "your eyes are red and you e been avoiding cas like he's the one who put you in that hospital bed" he said.

You closed your eyes at the reminder. Cas has been giving you your space. Not being too pushy and keeping a safe enough distance so hw eouldnt have to endure you running away from him.

You swollowd harshly "it's not his fault… it's me, I just- he shouldn't be with me." You admitted. Sam's eyebrows furrowed "wait what? Why not?"

"Because I'm human Sam! At first it was fine I realised that one day I I’m gonna die and he would keep living, but then I got kidnapped and- I was so close to dead Sam. So close and if it hadn't been for him I would be. He shouldn't have had to do that. I’m so fragile compared-"

"There's nothing wrong with being fragile" cas voice pulled you from your rant. You looked at him, wide eyed and shocked that he heard everything you said.

Sam quickly stood and left the room, closing the door behind him which you were silently grateful for.

Castiel moved towards you slowly as if trying not to scare you away. "You're fragile, not weak." He told you. He grabbed your hand "I may live for an eternity, or I may die tomorrow. But I would be okay with that because I got to experience you."

Tears filled your eyes, and for the first time in weeks you relaxed. "Angel or not I've been at the brink of death many times, and ever since meeting you all I can think of in those moments is how greatful I am that you chose me."

Cas scooted closer, wrapping his arms around you for the first time since he found you in that warehouse, except this time he wasn't praying that you would live, he was praying that you let him hold you. You did.

He held you tightly, but still mindful of your still healing wounds. You pressed a long kiss to his lips, finally allowing yourself to relax into him. You hated yourself for depraving yourself of him and him from you.

"If your love was all I had in this life, that would be enough until the end of time" he muttered against your lips. You smiled, pulling away slightly to look him in the face. "Did you just quote a Justin Timberlake song?" Your tone was light and amused and brought flutters to Castile stomach.

He smiled "yes, I guess I did" he said before kissing you again.

Growing up never meant you’d rid yourself of the habit that is sitting on the ground by your family.

You’re the only one who does it… mostly because the young ones are occupied with activities on the other side of the acre and don’t bother gathering by the fire pit. Picked up from the silly rule your cousins and older family decided when you were a kid that “lawn chairs are for grown-ups only.” But you never declared it void in your head even after you’d blown out the 18 candles— and you still wonder why you’re the stubborn one.

Your left hand is occupied with a s’more while your right toys with the loose ground beneath. People are chatting, per usual, and your thoughts begin to drift off. You don’t even hear the soft thud that comes with your cousin’s buddy, Castiel, taking a seat next to you.

“Evening.” He nods, head turning to look at you.

You jump in surprise. “Oh…! Hi Castiel.” You smile sheepishly in an attempt to cover the very obvious flinch.

He’s still partially dressed in his work outfit: his job being a priest at the church an hour drive away. A clean, dark suit sealed with a large belt buckle of an angel fits well to his form. He’s so meticulous and purposeful about everything he does that it’s hard to see him as anything other than impressive. So he sits unmoving, taking sips of the only brand of beer he’ll drink, giving his attention to you.

“Your day was good, I hope?” He waits again.

It makes you wonder if you can make his actions wander other places.

“Yeah. Good.” You nod. “There’s an empty chair behind you. You know you can sit.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he stares off into the fire. “In the years I’ve attending these gatherings, not once have I seen you sit in these chairs. I presume it’s because the ground is more palatable when seeking warmth from the fire.”

“Oh, no. It’s just a thing my family says about children not getting the pit chairs.” You force a laugh.

“But you’re not a child. Far from one. Unless child refers to your connection with god?” He sips his beer.

Castiel means well in his reference to the church as he’d gotten his doctorate in the subject, but preaching makes you a little uneasy and you quickly shake your head no. Castiel’s face contorts into one of confusion at you hurried denial, and you quickly backtrack.

“No- it’s- I’m just being a shithead. I’m used to the ground.”

“Apologies. I should’ve assumed the obvious— I never see you at church.” Castiel grunts in amusement. He really means it. He’s not moving. “Do you always prefer the ground?”

A wave of embarrassment washes over you, feeling like a loser in comparison to him. “I, uh, Sometimes I sit on the roof.” You gesture to your house across the way, barely visible except for the porch light keeping it present to the eyes. “You could come with me sometime.”

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his bicep affectionately. He huffs with a small smile and you begin to let go.

“No need for that,” Castiel leans in your direction, preventing your arms from detaching from his. “It’s okay.”

It’s a wholesome moment given he’s insisted this in front of your family. Your stomach flips a little, and your face goes a bit pale in the glow of the fire pit. One of your cousins makes a comment about how clingy you tend to be, declaring it to be a “you thing.”

Before you can snap back at the quip, Castiel pats your knee with his free arm. “Whether it is or not proves no difference to me. But I will note it.” You notice by his barren fingers that he’s unmarried.

It’s been weeks since that incident and your confidence has started to show with how you act around Castiel. You’re in the same position as before, seated on the ground when Castiel joins to listen to conversation and occasionally preach the lord. You’ve developed a taste for leaning on him, hugging…

Touching.

You’ve been approaching it with caution every time and still the man accepts every advance with open arms. The family doesn’t seem to care either, still drawing it up to a you-ism for being an only child.

“I heard you helped cook the food.” The fire crackles and Castiel lifts his beer to his lips to drink. You nod and give his arm a squeeze. “It was delicious.”

“Thanks. But you know, I help cook every week.” You shrug.

“Ah.” He nods. “So everything of yours tastes good?”

You choke on your own spit and aggressively cough at the comment. A million questions run through your head: Did he mean to say that? Was he hitting on you? Did he want something from you?—

“—Apologies. My phrasing was…inadequate.” He pats your back as you continue to cough. “Here. Drink.” He presses his beer to your hands and guides it to your mouth. You take a sip in between coughs, choking out an “it’s okay” on repeat while you gather yourself.

He wipes the dribble of beer from your lips and holds your face up to stop the cough. You shake your head to tell him you’re fine, but stop so he doesn’t take his hands away. He does anyway, only temporarily to drape his trenchcoat over your shoulders.

“I am sorry. It was in poor taste, to say that.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

God you wish he’d say it again, or that you’d answered yes.

The fire gets put out and family starts leaving, but he doesn’t. His hand rests on your knee while he checks your expression. “Is there anything you need?”

“Not really,” You finally sigh out the last cough, back to normal. He’s so patient, and it’s clear he cares. Even in the dark you can see the glimmer in his eyes. “I think I’m just going to sit on the roof when everyone leaves. It’s been a while since I’ve gone up there if…you want to join.” Your hands nervously toy with the empty beer bottle, waiting for his answer.

“I suppose I can.”

The air is still and the sky Is bright with stars. The glow of the moon shines delicately on Castiel’s belt and it gets harder to relax. Owls and crickets get louder the later it gets, filling the air with distant buzz. Both of you sit back on the rooftop, hands behind you to brace yourself up.

“I can see why you enjoy being up here,” Castiel murmurs. “I appreciate the view.”

“It’s nicer when you’re not alone.” Your arms reach out again to grab him and he doesn’t move.

“I understand. I can’t be alone when I’m committed to God, but for those who may be skeptics, the human touch is ideal.” Castiel gently flexes, his muscle tensing under your palms. He’s so…okay with it all. Pure intentions which are eradicated by your need for him like a corruption.— “I’ve noticed you’re quite affectionate.”

-Yet you don’t feel like stopping.

“I get lonely.” You respond, toying with the buckle like it’s the normal thing to do. There’s only so much family can provide: You love them to pieces, but this is a kind of love that needs searching for. “I don’t wear God on my belt like you do.”

Castiel laughs softly. A dry, sarcastic sounding laugh you’ve heard only once or twice in the years you’ve known him. The shiny metal reflects beautifully in your grasp, highlighting every detail from the individual feathers to the curls on the angel’s head. He taps his belt buckle, moving it to show you. “It’s not God on my belt. It’s the archangel Gabriel. Mischievous bastard— fitting for a buckle.”

Your other hand leaves his arm and travel to touch the buckle, leaning over into all of his personal space. “Why him?”

“Because of what’s beneath the buckle. I believe he would find it funny, being the one to decorate one’s…barrier to adultery.”

Your head is so close to his. You’ve practically climbed into his lap knowing he’d say nothing about it. You reach out to gently palm him, cheeks heating up.

“Is this still your affectionate tendencies in practice?” Castiel moves to caress your face, one strong hand pulling you away from the view of his belt and towards his face. His skin is rougher than you’ve given thought of them being. It makes you stop in your tracks, still holding the buckle.

“Does it have to be?” You say it like you’re still the shy little cousin of Castiel’s college roommate, and not the woman you are. From his expression, he likes it.

“No.” You feel something grow against your fingertips.

“Would it be bad if it was?” The whole situation feels like a tightrope you dance on not so elegantly. You press down on the buckle, feeling the tent forming in your friend’s jeans.

Oh. He really likes it.

He lets go of your face and you continue on. “No. But we may call it that. A you thing. And you’re a curious one.” Castiel suddenly extends a leg out, pushing you off his lap and onto his thigh with ease. His knee settles between your legs like an unholy saddle— the audacity to pull this in his work clothes— he’s not as uptight as he comes off as. Cas is not letting you have him yet. As if years of knowing him don’t count for the buildup to this moment. “You’re affectionate. Show me.”

What? Your legs squeeze together against his thigh. Thank God you live on a large property— you couldn’t imagine this with neighbors around.

“What if someone sees?” You whimper. “Or I fall off the roof?”

“You had no difficulty touching my body at the fire pit, in front of everybody. You knew what you were doing. Right now only stars are watching. You’re not coy.”

He bends his leg a bit and his kneecap butts up against the sweet spot of your jeans, the stitching forced against your core and sending a wave of delicious new feelings. “As for falling off the roof…” your forearms quickly get pulled to brace yourself on him, palms resting firmly against his collarbones.

“Isn’t God watching you?” You swallow your happy groan to ask.

“You get used to it.” He shakes his leg and it feels like you’re riding an animal, the jeans’ stitching now up against your folds and forcing a moan out of you. “Once you’ve watched and been watched, not much intimidates you out of the act. Now go on, if it really is a you thing. You’ll get your treats.”

You nestle your face into his shoulder with a shudder. Does he know you hardly do this? Someone who barely gets action, being told to ride the leg of the only Preist for miles; A friend of the family, The man you’d spent your teenage years secretly gawking over and hoping for a moment like this. The ordeal sounds impossible. It makes you feel like a slut.

Your hips glide gently along his muscular thigh, the fabric of your jeans rubbing roughly against his.

God, he’s in uniform.

Would it be bad? Wanting to grab the white collar that rests so neatly against his shirt? To tug on it and remind him that he preaches daily to a God that he’s cucked more than once?

“F-feels good…” you press yourself against his knee again to feel the sweet pressure.

“Keep going.” He coos. “It’s a you thing, right? Girls like you don’t stop at pushing their buttons.” He urges, tapping your nose. It’s condescending, to say the least, but coming from him it’s a compliment.

Your knees hurt a bit from the tile on the roof, all of your weight shifted onto them in between the motion you’ve outed yourself as being new to. Cas lays back to eye sky above— he’s not doing a single thing, like always, and it’s beginning to frustrate you.

But it’s that which causes the air to fill with your angry panting, little grunts you can’t control to drown out the mundane rustle of denim rubbing against itself.

“Attagirl.”

He hasn’t even kissed you: that holy bastard that accepts your every move, doesn’t complain, the one who gave you the opportunity to taste merely pieces of him which rimmed the beer you drank from.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You finally sigh out, stopping before the good can grace you. It leaves a sickly warm feeling in your belly, not getting any better as your eyes take in the shine of the buckle which protects the one thing you need from him.

His eyes finally dart to yours, expression still refusing to give away anything. He cocks his head to the side to process the sudden change in emotion.

Then it clicks. Castiel should’ve known you aren’t stupid.

“I wanted to see if I was ready.” He utters. “You forget I’m an outsider here— a visitor. It would be a shame to cause an end to our moments by the fire. And your family would have every right to be upset with me.”

“Cas…please tell me you’re ready now.”

Castiel’s fingers creep up to yours, peeling them from where they rest on his hip and guiding them to his belt before rubbing your head like a puppy. There’s a pouting look on your face that wants to reject the affection, but it’s all too much. You just humped him like a bitch in heat all because he asked you to and fuck it all you’d do it again.

Small massages to your scalp and pushing your hair aside, Cas consoles you. “Is that why you asked about my belt?” He whispers.

You nod, fumbling with the buckle but keeping your eyes on his. The desperation is palpable.

“I figured you were a clever girl.” Castiel’s voice relaxes into something informal, the same gravely, casual tone he uses to explain how evening service donations weren’t as plentiful as last morning’s.

You pull his belt away and cast it aside, moving up to brace on the slant of the roof before working at his jeans. It’s messy, and you’re grossly underqualified for something as risky as this.

Castiel brings your hips gently forward, and soon enough your jeans pool at your ankles. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that it isn’t his first rodeo— nor his twentieth. While Castiel’s pants button refuses to let up to your sloppy attempts at unclasping, his hands are working their way under your panties. That same warm feeling tears a desperate noise out of you, and he hushes it.

“Shh…Sh…. Don’t worry. I can stop if needed. Just say the word, Yes?” He lies back against the tile when you finally free him from the prison of his own jeans. The sight is borderline pornographic, you think, but you’ve never had anything to compare. You grasp his base with your left and push his hair aside with your right; the moonlight does a good job highlighting the silver that streaks his jet black hair, and you’re reminded of his age.— Of his experience. “Sit up for me, dove.”

“O…kay…” you whine. One hand grasps the end of your shirt and the other dips low. Two cold fingers push past the thin cotton wrapping your hips and land against the heat between, begging to feel you. You continue to straddle his legs— the firm, muscular parts of him tensing against the insides of your thighs.

“Wait—“

“Hm?” Castiel keeps his hands where they are, but doesn’t move any further. He bears a look of indifference yet his free hand tugs at your shirt impatiently.

You muster up the strength to make what feels like a pathetic complaint, something your teenaged self would’ve whined and cried about ages ago had they been in this position:

—“You need to kiss me first.”

“…So needy.”

It takes no second reminder for Castiel’s lips to connect with yours, quickly shooting up from where he once rested against the rooftop tile.

Finally you push yourself onto his fingers, the blissful sensation rushing to your chest and up Castiel’s knuckles. His eyes never tear away, not for a second. Stared down by baby blues your hand slides up his shaft and coats your fingertips in precum.

Castiel pulls his fingers out and you nestle yourself onto the tip. He likes the noise you’re making. Stupid, pathetic puppy sounds pumped lazily into his ears at the rhythm of his stimulation.

“Happy now?” He questions.

You nod with a cry.

“Do your knees hurt?”

You nod again, brushing off the pain to dive in for a second kiss.

“Ah-ah.“ he tuts. “Gentle.”

He sheds his trenchcoat first, then his shirt. You lift your arms up and Castiel expertly takes yours off with one hand, revealing your mismatched underwear set. It’s old stuff that still fits. You would’ve dressed sexier if you knew this was going to happen.

“Sorry, I—“

“Cute…” Cas whispers. His fingers curl inside you, forcing a hand to clasp over your mouth to stop a sudden moan. It clicks that what you had on never mattered. He’s a real man: So long as you were wearing it, it was the sexiest set on earth.

He gently pulls his fingers out, embracing you right after. You whimper again and he presses a slow, intimate kiss to your lips. Your breath heaves against his shallow huffs, not bothering to wipe away the trail of spit that follows as he pulls away. “Go on, dove.”

You line yourself up and push down with his assistance. You’ve loosened up from earlier but it’s still something you have to work for. He’s big. Thick. Two veins run on either side of his shaft with the intention of imprinting you from the inside. Being slick with your own juices barely seems to help while you pathetically wiggle your hips against him.

Cas pulls your head against his shoulder to hug you tight like he’s consoling you through the whole thing. Falling back against the rooftop, the angle works perfectly in your favor and gets you to fit him. You collectively huff, the embrace holding you upright and away from the roof’s edge.

“Shh…so good…you’re doing wonderful, dove.” Skin on skin, your belly is against his. He can feel himself buried in you through your stomach. “Feel good?”

You wiggle your hips, picking up any motion you can. “Feel like I’m not doing enough.”

“Focus on you, hm?” He urges with an encouraging pat. “Don’t concern yourself with anything else.”

“This was a mistake…I don’t think I can do it…” you cry into his neck.

“Oh, dove.” Cas searches your face for tears, kissing away whatever may be there. You hiccup, attempting to cover yourself despite your exposure to the elements. It’s getting late. Colder. And Castiel runs cold. You hug his neck and he lets go, guiding your hips gently to ease your fears. “I’m going to assist you. Shh…relax…..don’t be tense.”

Cas grabs the fat of your backside and gently pushes you into a rhythm. It feels good. Really good. Each thrust forces out another barrage of moans as he takes control. He let you be curious, have your fun, but it’s his turn now.

“See? Not difficult.” He lifts you with ease up and down, pulling out and pushing back in tauntingly slow. “Talk to me.”

“I feel…I think I’m getting close…not sure.” You groan, mouth open from the ethereal feeling of his cock taunting you. Drool pools and drips out of your mouth and down Castiel’s back as you try not to bite down on your own tongue.

“Has anyone ever made it happen?” He asks like he’s lecturing. It would make a preaching session sound imminent if he didn’t simultaneously pull back to kiss your sternum and the curve of your breasts.

“N-No…”

“That’s not good, dove.” The pace picks up, hot hot hot. Your breath heaves, practically gagging from the full feeling you suddenly have. A little snicker escapes Castiel’s lips. You’re the most adorable thing in the world

Finally, one loud, desperate cry erupts from your throat and you finish. The orgasm hits like a truck and you collapse limply onto Castiel. He lies back and holds you close into a cuddle, still warming his cock. A hand strokes your hair and the other gives you a pat on your rear. You tremble from the cold and drool, unsure if you should grasp him or the roof tile.

“D-doesn’t your back hurt?” You hiccup, remembering is bare back against the roughness of the roof.

“It’s no bother. I’m an old man, there’s far worse to be concerned about.” He teases.

“You’re like thirty-something…” you laugh back.

“Closer to forty.” He replies. Castiel grabs your chin and pulls you up to look at him. You’re greeted with a gentle smile to your messily fucked-out look. “There’s that smile. I was beginning to believe only the fire pit could conjure it.” Ignoring the drool, he plants a kiss on your lips.

“Can we stay here?” You beg. “I want you to stay inside me…l-long as you’ll let me.”

“I have work tomorrow, dove.”

“Oh.”

“But I suppose I can call in ill.”

Castiel looks at his trench coat that he’d cast aside earlier, covering your bare skin with it and tugging you on top of him.

“Your back…”

“What did I say?” He chides. “Focus your energy on looking up.”

Both of you glance at the glittering above you. The stars are so bright you want to squint, illuminating your yard: the trees, the dead grass on the unmaintained corner of the acre..the fire pit.

“Is it so bad that all of this was watching you?” Cas asks. You don’t even answer. Because it isn’t. And whatever’s out there will have to see every moment your lips seek his until the sun comes up.

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