Castiel had left the raincoat and suit jacket in Dean’s room but he was still wearing his tie, so Dean played with it while he kissed him, rolling it up in his fingers or tugging it a little to bring Castiel closer. It was his considered opinion that you could never touch someone you love too much, and so he played with Castiel’s thick unruly hair and followed the lines of his face with his fingertips, rested his thumb in the hollow of Castiel’s throat and sometimes just wrapped an arm around his neck and laid his head on Castiel’s shoulder.

“We may only have this night,” Castiel said, stroking Dean’s back. He was touching Dean too, just as simply. He found Dean’s ears fascinating, and liked to feel Dean’s heart beating under his palm, and even held his feet for a while so they wouldn’t get cold.

“So let’s have it,” Dean said, holding the cup to Castiel’s mouth. Castiel drank, his eyes closing, and Dean watched in fascination as the muscles in his throat moved. How could it be, he thought, that one person could become so important that every little thing about him was worth noticing? “Let’s really have it, Cas. Let’s make it ours.”

Castiel exhaled and leaned his forehead against Dean’s. His eyelashes were impossibly long and thick, and Dean had to kiss them for being so perfect, which made Castiel chuckle. “Always a slave to your appetites, Dean,” he said, putting a hand on Dean’s hip.

“I like to think it’s one of my better points. I don’t pretend I want anything other than what I want.”

“It is one of your better points.” He ran his fingers slowly up Dean’s spine, and Dean shivered. “Of course,” Castiel added, his voice even lower, “I think all of your points are your better points.”

“You love me,” Dean said, smug.

“Yes.” Dean had to kiss him again for that. “You also love me,” Castiel whispered, lips against Dean’s, and held Dean tighter so he could kiss him harder.

“I do,” Dean whispered, “God, I do,” and was content to just kiss him for a while. There was no question in his mind that Castiel wanted him — it was in the ruddy shade to Castiel’s cheeks and the darkness in his eyes, in the lingering touches of his hands and the way he trembled when Dean pressed their hips together as they kissed.

“Our night,” he said, holding Castiel’s cheek in his palm. “You and me. Let me have this, Cas. Let yourself have this. Just one night to be selfish.”

“You lust for this body,” Castiel whispered.

“I lust for this body because you’re in it.” He glanced over his shoulder at the table. They had eaten half the bread and most of the grapes, and he felt nourished — not full, necessarily, this wasn’t half the food he normally ate for a meal, but like all his cravings were satisfied. “Come back to bed with me. You did what you told the Fishers you’d do — come be with me for a while now.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, taking his hand and holding it palm-to-palm.

“Give me tonight, Cas. Just tonight.”

Castiel looked up from their hands to his face. His gaze searched Dean’s, and Dean hoped he looked just like how he felt — eager, passionate, yearning. Whatever he saw must have answered his unspoken questions — Castiel gave him one of his quiet, barely-there smiles and gently kissed him. “Yes, Dean.”

***

They put the food away quickly and went back down the hall to Dean’s room. “There’s no door,” Dean said, frustrated, as he stood in the open archway. He’d been sure there would at least be a curtain of some kind.

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean from behind and kissed his neck. “We’re alone here.”

“Are you sure?” Dean said and turned his head back, hungry for Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel kissed him as requested. “I’m sure.” He reached under Dean’s shirt to unlace his trousers, and Dean stood in his arms, holding Castiel’s hair and breathing with him, his eyes closed. “Even if we weren’t,” Castiel whispered, “I would not want to stop.”

“Neither would I,” Dean muttered and shivered as Castiel’s hand slid along his hip. Castiel touched him curiously, his fingertips gentle, sliding from hip to belly to chest, while Dean’s chest hitched and his legs trembled and he said quietly, “Cas, Jesus. Castiel.”

“I healed your body,” Castiel whispered. “I put you back together, cell by cell. I know every inch of you.”

“And left your mark,” Dean said and yanked his shirt over his head. He turned to face Castiel, trousers hanging low on his hips, and it made him breathe a little harder to see Castiel’s face flush darker and his hands tremble. Castiel put his hand gently on the scar on Dean’s shoulder and pulled him close. He held Dean around the waist and kissed the scars, and then Dean’s protective tattoo and gave it a small brush with his thumb.

“Only fair,” Castiel whispered and kissed Dean’s mouth. “You’ve left your mark on me.”

“Yeah?” Dean said, steering Castiel back to the bed. “Where?”

“All through me. From skin to soul.” He lay back, bringing Dean with him, and kissed him again. “Every inch of me says your name.”