Every fertile inch (2/6)

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Week 2.

14 kalends Septembris (August 19).

Note: For those of you keeping track of the timeline, this chapter takes place two days before the events of An Acorn Button.

 

Castiel woke up with Dean’s mouth sliding damp and leisurely across the back of his left shoulder.

“Grrm?” he asked, of the pillow.

Dean’s lips curved against his skin, and pressed closer for a moment, so Castiel could feel the brush of his nose and chin too, and the weight of his cheek against the folded wing. “Hsssh, g’back to sleep. I gotcha.”

“Mmmp,” Castiel agreed hazily.

A line of warm, open-mouthed kisses wandered around the edge of his shoulder blade, tucking into the sensitive parts between the main bone and the ball of the wing joint that fitted in at its base. Castiel shifted, lowering that wing a little to let him in. Dean paused, nuzzled at the spot, then danced his finger along the dampened path that his mouth had made.

“Your back’s kinda weird,” he decided, all early-morning drawl, and pressed a kiss into the centre between the wings.

“Yrs’s empty,” Castiel muttered into the pillow, and lost the end of it in a yawn.

“I mean,” and there was Dean’s hand, light and careful on the back of Castiel’s ribs as he stretched up to kiss the side of Castiel’s neck. “How’s there even room for all this extra stuff in here? Don’t the bones get in each other’s way?”

“Talking,” Castiel accused peevishly, and tipped his head aside to encourage him in better morning things, because once Dean started getting curious about how things worked there was no stopping him.

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