“Ow!” Sam grouses, glaring at Dean. “What was that for?”
“You suck at this.”
Dean turns Sam so he’s facing the front of the bar and then he sees him – Cas. Castiel. Their favorite singer. “Oh my god. He’s actually here!”
Cas’s eyes flicker and he tilts his head, looking right at Sam. He smiles. Well, it’s more of a smirk, which looks delicious on his glossy lips. His bodyguard gives an irritated full body sigh when Cas begins to walk towards Sam and Dean. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Sam bites his lip, taking in Cas’s eyeliner and short checkered skirt. “Maybe a little too okay.”
“Jeez, kid. You’re not subtle,” Dean cackles, slapping Sam’s back. “Taught you better than this. Or so I thought -“
“I’m twenty-two years old, you ass. Not a kid -”
“Are you boys coming with me or not?” Cas says, hands on his hips. “You’re ruining my buzz.”
–
Cas kisses and nuzzles Dean’s cock through his red panties before pulling them off with his teeth. “Please,” Dean breathes, spreading his legs wide. “Please fuck me, Cas. I’ve wanted this so long, please -“
“Shit,” Cas gasps when he touches Dean’s used hole. “Who did this?”
“Me.” Sam launches onto the motel bed with a too thin mattress and grabs hold of Cas’s hips, admiring the skirt no one bothered to remove. How it compliments Cas’s ass. Draws attention to it. Sam gives Cas’s butt a swat and watches it jiggle. “Do you wanna be where I’ve been?”
“Only if you plan on fucking me, too,” Cas says, eyes full of unbridled mischief as he glances over his shoulder at Sam. “You gonna?”
for @ltleflrt for this post. I couldn’t get this little snippet of spiritual!Dean meeting businessman!Cas out of my head xxx
———–
The Capricorns must be particularly horny this week, Dean thinks as he restocks the balsa wood & sweet orange candles. (For the third time that week.) And who can blame them? A Mars retrograde takes its due wherever it pleases.
He takes a cheeky sniff and hums to himself, suddenly awash with images of a plush warm rug in front of a crackling fire, and two glasses of something dark nearby.
Well, maybe the Capricorns and the Aquariuses are having a little trouble with their libido this month.
He recaps the candle and finishes restocking, but at the final set he finds that there’s no room on the shelf for the last candle in his basket. He turns the spare in his hand. It’s the lavender & peach one that he favours for stressed and overworked customers.
“What are you doing?” he asks it, idly rubbing the label. Usually the universe gives him a spare candle only when he’s most in need of it, but he couldn’t be further from stressed. His henna is fresh, he’s had his own music playing in the back office all week, and (apart from a few wayward dreams about strong sexy strangers) he’s never had more regular sleep in his life.
But the universe always knows best.
Someone coughs and he had been so distracted he hadn’t even noticed anyone come in, so when he looks up he’s totally unprepared for Mr. Tall Dark And Handsome looking back at him. Eyes so blue Dean’s a heartbeat away from throwing out his crystals and watching the moon through them instead.
He blinks mechanically and takes maybe a moment too long to smile, but it’s a moment he uses to take in the rest of Mr. TD&H, from the polished shine of his shoes to the cluttered hunch of his shoulders beneath the stiffest suit Dean has ever seen.
“Hi,” Dean says, pulling the lighter from his back pocket and clicking it over the candle. “You must be my delivery from the universe.”
A hush fell over the Caffe Florian as a tall man swathed in black robes stepped within the smoky room. Even with his Carnival mask obscuring his face, there was no mistaking who he was. No one else in Venice moved with such flare, such confidence.
Il Pilota.
The greatest gondolier in the city, knowledgable about every channel, every eddy, every current, able to navigate a gondola day or night, rain or shine, through any canal or even out into the ocean.
Sweating beneath his mask, Finn wished he had a fraction of the confidence that Il Pilota demonstrated with every dramatic sweep of his cape. If Finn had to approach the man he was doomed…but he wasn’t Finn, not that night, he was just another masked Carnival celebrant, another shadow out for the night, hiding from the storms outside in the lurid wonder of Florians. He waited until the hubbub around Il Pilota’s arrival died down, waited until the next celebrity graced the Caffe, and made his approach.
“Any amount you name if you can get me out of the city tonight,” he murmured as he passed close.
Il Pilota snagged his wrist. “No payment needed. All I ask is adventure and a story that will wow the city from scullion to doge come tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
(Send me a pairing and a setting or a trope or whatever and I’ll write a more or less three sentence ficlet)
I was thinking about 2014 Cas. I’m a little disappointed that he’s not human anymore but… I guess anything could happen in the second half of the season.
Please don’t yell at me if his tattoo is inaccurate I did my best.
soulmates Original Concept by Lalage | Tongari | Hwei Lim
The artists of the Reylo Anthology are excited and proud to present Soulmates, the first grand project of the anthology. Based on Hwei Lim’s poem “Twenty-Five Lives”, this is the result of two months of artistic labor and careful planning within our community. We would like to extend our thanks to the Reylo community for being such an incredible group with such open ideas and love for the franchise. Find Hwei Lim on Twitter, Tumblr, Livejournal, or on her website.
Not only has this project been a fantastic introduction for our anthology members, but it has also had a significant impact in our appreciation for art and for the people with whom we share this project. It has been a privilege to begin working on this anthology with everyone and we hope to continue growing as a community as the rest of the anthology falls into place.
Sam is still learning ASL. I think he knows what the sign Eileen is doing mean, though. He just doesn’t know how to reply properly. _ @theroadsofararchive
This is Not a Blog 