I write too many cliché AU stories...
Dean was normally very careful about who he let decorate his body.
He believed very strongly in expression through art, and he collected tattoos like other people collected postage stamps or seashells. However, he had a select list of tattoo artists and was very wary of enlisting anyone new. Dean knew the styles he liked and could trust his artists to use them. The last thing he wanted was to end up with his skin covered by something he didn't appreciate.
His favourite tattoo was the dragon that covered his left shoulder and trailed down his shoulder blade. Done in red and black, he had designed it himself and had it done when he was twenty two. It had been completed in two instalments by his favourite tattoo artist, Crowley – an exceptionally irritating man but a genius with a needle. At least half of Dean's numerous tattoos had been done by Crowley, and he wouldn't trust anyone else for his next project.
Which was why he stalled when he opened the door of Hell's Parlour and found a different man sitting there.
The man had scruffy black hair and piercing blue eyes, and several obvious tattoos. He opened his mouth to speak but Dean got there first.
"Who the hell are you?"
The man didn't seem perturbed. "Castiel. Crowley needed some help with all the bookings he's been getting so he hired me. Do you have an appointment?"
"Yeah, with Crowley." Dean paused. "Look, I don't mean to be rude Cas, but I don't know your work. I trust Crowley because I've seen what he can do before, I don't trust people I don't know with my body. I was just thrown seeing you here."
Castiel frowned. "Crowley isn't here, he's on holiday this week. All of his appointments have been transferred to me. And it's Castiel."
"What?" Dean was furious. "Why didn't he tell me? I deserved to know that his trainee or whoever would be inking my body. Can I talk to him?"
Castiel shrugged. "I'm sure you have his number if you're a previous customer. Look, if you don't want me to tattoo you then that's fine. I can understand that. But would you mind stepping outside so I can work? I won't be able to sketch if I'm listening to you ranting."
Dean was being a dick. He knew that he was being a dick. But he couldn't believe that Crowley would trick him like that. "Sorry, man. I'm not angry at you. I'm pissed at Crowley. It's nothing personal, but I think I'll cancel my appointment until he's back. Scratch Dean Winchester off the list."
Something flickered behind Castiel's eyes. "Winchester? You wouldn't be related to Sam Winchester from Palo Alto by any chance?"
Dean's mood switched instantly. "You know Sammy?"
"He's an old client. I did a woman's portrait on his forearm."
"You did his tattoo of mom?"
This changed everything. Dean had seen that tattoo a thousand times. It was beautiful, really capturing the likeness and personality of the late Mary Winchester. Sam had got it on the twenty year anniversary of their mom's death.
"Yes. I believe I also did a couple on his back, but the portrait is the one that stuck with me. It was a lengthy process."
Dean nodded. "I'll bet. You know what, this changes things. If you're good enough for Sammy then you're good enough for me. Are you any good with runes?"
Castiel gestured into the back. "If you're sure, then let's do this in the workshop. That way I can set up while we work. Shall we?"
Dean followed the familiar route into the workshop, pulling out the piece of paper he had doodled on earlier. He had been planning this tattoo for a while, the accompaniment to the protection tattoos he and Sam had got when Sam turned eighteen. The only reason he had waited this long was because he wanted to be certain that all the runes were right – far too many people had misspelt or incorrectly translated runic tattoos.
"So, runes?" Castiel asked.
"Yeah. Enochian runes of protection. I had several specialists look over them to make sure they're legit."
Castiel raised an eyebrow, moving some things around on the table. "You're into theology then?"
Dean laughed. "I'm not a religious nut if that's what you're thinking. Nah, it's a family thing. My mom used to say that angels were watching over me. I figured I may as well make that literal. It's an accompaniment to the anti-possession tattoos Sammy and I got for his eighteenth."
Castiel smiled. "So you're more into the supernatural than theology? I've always been fascinated by angels myself – my mother was a theology professor and I inherited her curiosity. May I see the runes you have in mind?"
Dean handed the paper over, their fingers briefly touching. He noticed a similar looking rune on the inside of Castiel's wrist.
"This shouldn't take too long. I've done several similar designs before actually. Where did you want it?"
"My chest." Dean yanked his shirt off and pointed to an area of clear skin. "Opposite the anti-possession one."
Castiel's eyes seemed to linger on Dean's chest just a little too long to be professional – but Dean found he didn't mind. Castiel was hot, with the sex-hair and electric eyes. The tattoos covering his arms and neck didn't exactly detract either.
"Well when you're ready then, we can get started."
/
The tattoo really didn't take long. It seemed like no time at all before Castiel was covering the tattoo in protective plastic and giving Dean the usual instructions on care.
"Cheers, dude." Dean grinned at Castiel. "I really am sorry about earlier, I was out of line."
"It's forgotten. I can remember how wary I was with my important ones – the wings especially." Castiel didn't seem bothered.
"Wings?" Dean was intrigued.
"Angel wings. I said I have a bit of an obsession. They were my first tattoo, actually. Quite a painful way to start."
"That's freaking awesome. Can I see?"
Castiel paused, and Dean wondered if that was a bit forward with a guy he had just met.
"Alright." Castiel finally agreed, pulling his top over his head. Dean's eyes trailed over his ink-covered torso, before Castiel turned around and Dean's eyes zeroed in on the wings.
They were gorgeous. Every feather was shaded in exquisite detail and they spread from the centre of his back out and down his upper arms. They were a grey-blue colour with some black shadowing, and they stood out starkly against Castiel's skin. Dean was amazed. He didn't think he had ever seen a more beautiful tattoo. Without really thinking, he reached one hand forward and stroked down the line of one wing.
Castiel trembled beneath the touch, letting out a sigh. Emboldened, Dean allowed his fingers to explore, tracing the outline of the feathers. They must have taken hours – Dean couldn't imagine this much detail coming without at least twelve hours work. It was quite an undertaking for someone's first tattoo.
"Incredible." Dean breathed.
"Thank you." Castiel's voice had deepened, and the gravel sound seemed to touch Dean's core. "I'm very proud of them. My brothers, Michael, Luke, Raphael and Gabriel, all have a matching pair, although the colours are different. My sister Anna was the only one who refused to have them done. I think she was worried about the pain, although she has since had a tattoo done on her hip."
Dean hummed in acknowledgement, still captivated by the ink. "Is your family close?"
"To some extent. Anna rarely contacts us, but I talk to Gabriel regularly and see Michael and Luke several times a year. Those two are inseparable. Raphael can be a bit distant but he's just busy with work, he still attends family meals for Christmas and Easter."
Castiel seemed to be leaning into Dean's touch, his shoulder blades rippling under the attention. Dean carefully kneaded the muscle under his hand and was shocked when Castiel moaned, his head moving back unreservedly.
"Dean," Castiel groaned.
Dean tried to ignore the tightening in his pants.
"Yeah Cas?"
"Don't stop."
Dean didn't think that he could stop if he tried.
"So fucking gorgeous." He muttered, his other hand moving to hold Cas's hip. He ran his hand down Cas's shoulder and along his arm, savouring how the motion allowed him to step closer to Cas's back.
Struck by a sudden inspiration, Dean tipped his head forward and licked a stripe along the base of one wing.
Cas let out a full moan, twisting in Dean's arms so they were facing each other and slamming their lips together. He tasted faintly of coffee and cigarettes, and Dean moaned, their tongues tangling together. His hands roamed over Castiel's back, smoothing over the wings that he knew were there. Castiel's stubble grated deliciously over Dean's jaw line, and his fingers were hooked in Dean's belt loops, holding him close.
"There's a bed upstairs." Cas whispered, moving his mouth to Dean's ear.
Dean's pulse rate increased perceptively. "Fuck it. The tattoo chair's closer."
Castiel seemed to approve, shoving Dean down (carefully avoiding the new tattoo) and laying kisses down his neck. Dean's back arched when Castiel sucked on his pulse point, leaving a bruise that would be there for days. His hips ground against Cas's and they both moaned at the friction, simultaneously deciding that they needed more.
Their pants were quickly pulled off, discarded somewhere in the back of the room, and their boxers followed. The first touch of Castiel's hand to Dean's dick had Dean gasping, letting out a high pitched keen which he would forever deny making. He reached forward to return the favour but Cas twisted out of the way, leaving Dean confused.
"I'd rather fuck you." Cas explained.
All Dean's remaining blood rushed downward. His brain stopped. He let out a slightly shocked nod and Cas grinned, producing a bottle of lube from nowhere.
There was a slightly awkward shuffle as Dean tried to roll onto his back without pressing his new tattoo against anything. After a few mild curses, he finally managed to brace himself against the chair and Castiel circled his hole with one cold finger.
"Just put it in goddamnit!"
Dean hadn't bottomed in a while, so as Cas slowly pushed his finger inside the intrusion felt strange at first. It was only the addition of the second finger that reminded Dean's body this was pleasurable, and the third had him writhing and babbling incoherently against the chair.
"Beautiful." Cas murmured.
He withdrew his fingers, and Dean growled at the loss, pushing his ass back. Cas rested one hand soothingly on his hip before slowly pushing in, the lube cold against Dean's passage.
"Move." He grunted.
He didn't need to ask twice. Castiel was already pulling out, thrusting back in again with a force that made Dean groan. He set a brutal pace, striking Dean's prostate on every third thrust and reaching forward to stroke Dean's dick. Dean liked to think he had decent stamina, but it was an embarrassingly short length of time before he felt himself on the brink.
"Cas, I'm gonna –"
Cas struck Dean's prostate one last time and he was done for, coming with a moan of Cas's name all over the chair. Cas gave a few more thrusts and then followed, emptying himself into the condom with a hiss of "Dean!"
Cas withdrew and Dean collapsed, narrowly avoiding pressing on his fresh tattoo. He was exhausted. But it was the good kind of exhaustion.