winchester-reload:

Much thanks to @castielkrushnic, @eyesofatragedy67 @jdragon122 @aldehydean, @paininthecasbutt, @shennanigoats, @thecalilove (and anyone I forgot to tag) for the tattoo suggestions on our boy up there. (I didn’t do as many as I wanted to because I had to cut the project for time reasons…) Also, a special shout out to @team-free-will-97 for requesting a fic to go along with it. I tried, my friend, but the writer’s block beast has me down. Maybe someone else can help me out. @jupiterjames, lookin’ at you, kid 😉

Ask and you shall receive! I hope you appreciate me typing this shit on my phone. 😀

Dean’s first thought upon seeing the man who enters his tattoo studio is, “don’t be sexist.” The dude is a knock out. KO. Walking sex and a brilliant smile. And Dean hopes, more fervently than he’s hoped for anything, that the guy at least PARTIALLY swings his way. He knows the pink hair doesn’t mean anything in the circles they both clearly travel together, but for once he hopes sexism is right.

“Uh, what can I help you with, man?” He asks while Sam looks on from the reception desk, smirking because he’s psychic, an watching them like they’re the best soap opera on TV.

“I’d like a small bee, please,” the guy says in a roughed, pleasant tone that is doing absolute wonders for Dean’s libido.

“Yeah, sure, I can do that,” Dean answers. “Where were you thinking?” And he lets his eyes wander over the man’s body, from the ink peeking out from his open button down. His skin is fucking gorgeous.

It’s a disappointed relief when the guy raises his hand and indicates his finger. With a wry smile he says, “I’m afraid it won’t be too interesting for you. I just want a small, cartoon-y thing. Black lines.”

Dean wants to ink this man’s body so badly that he literally does not care what is is or where it goes. “I don’t mind,” he says.

Sam snorts. “He’s filled out the paperwork already.” He holds out the clipboard and Dean takes it.

“Castiel?” God, even his name is arousing.

Castiel beams and holds out his hand to shake. “Yes.”

Dean shakes firmly. “Dean Winchester. Come on back to.” He nods over his shoulder and guides Castiel back to the relative seclusion of his station.

Obviously comfortable with his surroundings, Castiel plops down in the chair and makes himself at home while Dean prepares the ink and needle. He’s usually pretty good about making small talk, but those clear blue eyes following his every move make it impossible.

“You have amazing hands,” Castiel says.

Dean’s gaze shoots back to Castiel, and what he sees is open, guileless, and interested.

It’s the best day of Dean’s life. “Thanks,” he answers softly.

They’re smiling at each other until Dean manages to break the spell, clearing his throat and sterilizing Castiel’s hand. A tension fills the space between them as he preps, and normally Dean would attribute it to nerves on Castiel’s park, but he’s fairly heavily inked, so it can’t be that exactly.

He wonders at it until the question is answered the second needle touches skin. Castiel jerks slightly and makes the most FILTHY noise Dean’s ever heard. It brings him up short.

For his part, Castiel looks just as surprised. And… kinda horny. “Sorry,” he gasps, cheeks flamed as pinks as his hair. “I didn’t expect… it’s just… you’re… oh, dear.” He crosses his legs and hangs his head, but Dean’s seen everything.

Slowly, a shit eating grin slips across his face as he continues his work, holding Castiel’s hand tightly as the man squirms through the short session. By the end of it, they’re both practically panting. Castiel’s eyes are blazing.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean murmurs from only a breath away. “You and me? I think we’re in for a good time.”