
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1972611.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Michael/Dean_Winchester
  Character:
      Michael_(Supernatural), Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Pagan_God_Dean, Pagan_God_Dean_Winchester, Demigods, Alternate_Universe_-
      Fantasy, Dean_isn't_actually_17, he_just_looks_like_it_physically, Bottom
      Dean_Winchester, Top_Michael, Riding
  Series:
      Part 2 of Dominion_Hymns
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-17 Words: 1522
****** Light Of A New Moon ******
by bourbonbucky
Summary
     This boy, this… this young god. He’s divine perfection that clings to
     Michael’s skin and dreams on the rare occasions that he does sleep.
     All he can see are Dean’s pretty green eyes, his soft lips.
Notes
     another drunk fic. not beta-read, just lightly edited, pardon
     mistakes.
Michael can’t get it out of his head, how there’s something different about
Dean. It’s not very common for people to be named after the gods, but it’s not
really unheard of. But this teenage boy that shows up on his front porch at
night, Michael can’t help wondering if he isn’t just named after the Moon God.
It’s heretical, it’s insane, and it’s literally the only theory he has that
makes sense. Michael can see the constellations in the freckles on Dean’s back
when they fuck. Normally he’d be worried about fucking someone who looks barely
past the age of seventeen, but Dean never gives him time to worry. Dean is so
bright, shining down like the stars and the moon.
He laughs with more life than Michael’s ever heard from another human. This
boy, this… this young god. He’s divine perfection that clings to Michael’s skin
and dreams on the rare occasions that he does sleep. All he can see are Dean’s
pretty green eyes, his soft lips.
The god theory doesn’t really take hold in his mind until his luck changes.
More money, more chances for promotion, more friends when he needs them.
Everyone says he’s blessed by the gods. Michael knows it’s just one.
Dean usually doesn’t come on the new moon, but Michael doesn’t dare bring that
up when he sees the familiar smile waiting for him as he pulls into his
driveway. He kisses Dean slowly, his entire body releasing the tension from the
day. All of his stress just melts like ice in a thaw. Dean is also the god of
water, after all.
There’s an excited tremble shaking Dean’s entire body. He pulls Michael inside
the house. “I want to show you something.”
Michael can’t help his curiosity. “Wasn’t my door locked?”
Dean just shrugs. “You’ve invited me in.”
Of course. He has an altar to Dean in his attic with fresh spring water and a
hand-made stone carving of the moon in snowflake obsidian. Dean’s never needed
his permission to come in, but he’s always asked Michael anyway. He isn’t an
overly demanding god.
They head straight up the stairs beside Michael’s bedroom door. Dean looks over
his shoulder, his hand still grasping Michael’s firmly.
Michael nods, nervous but smiling anyway.
The room is too dark for Michael to see, so he lets Dean lead him. They walk
over toward the window, a few faint lights from his neighbors’ houses visible.
Street lights are illegal in their city, they obstruct the darkness of the
night.
Dean pushes him to kneel by the altar table. A soft silver light pours out from
Dean’s eyes, calming the nervous tension that’s been building in Michael.
Dean walks over to the window, then turns to face Michael where he kneels. “A
lot of people think I don’t show my face on the new moon because the moon isn’t
there. Sounds kinda stupid to me, but I never tell them that. Just because
there’s no light doesn’t mean I’m not there.”
Dean paces in front of the window, his eyes glowing brighter the longer he
stands exposed to the new moon.
"I’m the moon and the stars, but I’m also the shadows. You know what the new
moon is, Michael?"
"Pure shadow." Michael watches as Dean’s skin turns to an ashy gray.
He removes his clothing, his freckles turning silver. They start to glow like
his eyes. “Exactly. I don’t let people see me during the new moon because if
they saw what was underneath the skin they made, they’d be terrified of me. I
don’t want that.”
The gray of Dean’s skin grows darker until it’s nearly as black as the night
sky. His eyes are as bright as suns, pouring pure white light into the room and
onto Michael’s skin. Every silver freckle turns white with them, glowing just
like the stars above.
Michael’s breath is caught in his chest. To think, he’s had this in his bed. He
has fucked that body, filled with sacred starlight.
Dean smiles, more light pouring out of his mouth. Michael’s body reacts to the
sight, and he opens his mouth to apologize. This isn’t the place to be thinking
about sex.
A wave of Dean’s hand cuts him off before he can even speak. “I’d be worried if
I didn’t turn you on like this.”
Michael is surprised that Dean’s voice isn’t different. The night sky is
standing in his attic in the shape of a young man, but he doesn’t speak like
dying stars. He speaks like the person Michael has come to love most in this
world.
"Come here." Dean leans against the window casually, like he isn’t ripping
Michael’s soul out with every breath.
Michael stands on shaking legs and walks over to his god, unable to keep from
touching him. Dean’s hair, normally a soft brown, has turned a pure black and
is softer than shadow to touch.
The buttons of Michael’s shirt pop open on their own, hands reaching out from
the shadows to undress him as Dean grows right in front of him. No longer the
height of a sixteen year old, Dean is just as tall as he is. The slender,
athletic frame Michael has spent months memorizing is filled in with muscle and
a well-fed softness. Michael smiles, he always offers Dean honey and fruit. It
shows.
His pants and boxers are pulled down, leaving him exposed for his god’s sight
and use. Dean gently pushes him back down to the floor, following until he’s
straddling Michael’s thighs.
Michael’s hands are greedy, pulling at Dean’s skin, desperate to feel all they
can. Dean smiles and Michael wants to swallow the starlight whole.
A kiss is pressed to his brow, the warmth of it too much for him. He grinds his
teeth to keep from whining. Dean shushes him, kissing along his hairline.
Michael craves every touch.
Dean grabs his cock and his entire body jolts, unprepared for the tight grip of
the god seated in his lap. The next thing he feels is the head of his cock
sinking into Dean’s body. Normally they spend time with foreplay, getting Dean
loose enough. But it seems that Dean doesn’t want to wait this time around.
He’s warm and wet, gripping Michael just as perfectly as always.
Michael kisses him, he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep his mouth in check
otherwise. Not that Dean can’t read his thoughts, but still.
Dean rides him slowly, like the night will last for days and he can spend the
entire time blessing Michael with the chance to be inside it. For all that
Michael knows that Dean is a god, he still moves like a human. When Michael
pulls on him, begs him to be closer with clawing fingers, Dean goes. Their
chests are pressed together, Dean’s cock rubbing against Michael’s stomach with
every thrust.
Men have killed for this, he thinks, priests have meditated themselves to
starvation.
Dean moans into his mouth, breaking the kiss so Michael can breathe. “They
weren’t worthy like you.”
Michael shakes, heels slipping against the floor as he tries to get some
traction, some control. Dean kisses him again, cupping his face like he's the
one that's divine and precious here. Like his skin is holy.
His entire body feels like it’s being pulled toward Dean. It must be how the
tide feels about the moon. Two parts of the same god trying to touch. But they
won’t, not ever. Michael is touching, is fucking this god. Church never taught
him to worship like this. To be happy that he could even breathe through a
religious experience.
Michael breaks their kiss, panting heavily as he buries his face into Dean’s
neck. He sees his hands where they claw at Dean’s back. The veins under his
skin are glowing like Dean’s eyes and freckles.
He moans. “Oh my God.”
Dean nods and fucks him harder. He won’t last like this, he’ll die trying to
last longer than Dean, but that’s fine. It doesn’t seem like Dean is really
concerned about him coming first. If anything, Dean delights in feeling his
cock getting harder. Michael gives stilted pushes up into Dean’s body, his
balls heavy and spine glowing with pressure. Maybe it’s actually glowing.
A rough, possessive hand grabs his hair, yanking him back to look his god in
the face. Both of Dean’s actual hands are still on his shoulders. “Give me your
sacrifice, Michael.”
And just like that, Michael stops breathing, his entire body locks up, then
releases. He moans and buries his face back in Dean’s neck, his arms tightening
around Dean to the point that any human wouldn’t be able to breathe.
Dean rubs his neck and shoulders, then pets through his hair gently.
Michael can’t keep himself from speaking. “Don’t leave.”
Dean shushes him again and relaxes into his hold. He kisses Michael’s jaw and
whispers in his ear. “I’d never abandon a demigod.”
Michael opens eyes, seeing a new star as it’s born on Dean’s shoulder. He
stares at it and smiles. That’s me.
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