In love with an angel!

You were fully clothed, but with the way these two looked at you, you may as well have been stark naked. Crowley had been utterly silent, shifting glances between you and the angel. Contemplating.

Castiel, who had before been so awkward before, held an air of confidence, looking at you intently and giving a dark nod to Crowley. You sat up fully, crossing your legs as you looked between the two men, though that was a loose term.

“So,” you started, “what’s up?”

Your tone was level, but it didn’t dismiss the blush spread on your face, or the way your hair on your arms stood on end. You’d known precisely how you’d gotten into this situation, and it was all because of a stupid question a few weeks ago.

It was a simple evening for everyone to relax. You, the Winchesters, Crowley, Castiel, and Rowena had been drinking since you’d all gotten home from a long hunt. More like mission, really, but you were all home safe, and one piece. Some parts of that night had become fuzzy, but you couldn’t forget what you’d said to Castiel and Crowley when the others had left, or simply passed out.

“You think angels and demons have ever… heh… done it? Like, together?” Your words slurred together in a drunken stupor.

Castiel had given you a thoughtful look, but stared at the ceiling as he gave an answer.

“It would be possible, though it’s rather confusing. I can’t imagine an angel and demon taking one another into… the bedroom.”

Crowley piped up, “It’s only because our feathery friends think they’re above that. Total prudes, if you ask me.”

“Good thing no one asked you,” Castiel quipped, sipping his drink.

You’d all laughed it off, thinking that was the only time you would talk about it. After all, it was just a hypothetical joke, a drunken ramble.

You’d been wrong about that. It seemed that Crowley and Cas remembered every word and flirty smile you gave them that night. Crowley took a step toward you with his hands tucked behind his back, a smug smile spread across his face.

“I’m sure you recall what you’d said to us back then, about angels and demons, and their time in the bedroom.”

Shit.

You froze, eyes wide up at him while he continued.

“It got me thinking,” Crowley nodded to Castiel, “that it could be more authentic if you had the real experience.”

You reeled over his words, the pit of your stomach grew heavy as you realized just what he meant. Castiel followed Crowley’s lead and stepped toward you, his face still as stone.

“Cas?” you asked, “Are you okay with this?”

He nodded solemnly, “I didn’t know how to… navigate the situation. I was given some help.”

You cocked your head to the side, looking between the two in confusion. Crowley smiled, nodding to the angel.

“I may have given Feathers a little something to, well, help us in this. Our sweet Castiel was feeling shy, so I decided to lend him a hand.”

Castiel rubbed his nose quickly, and it clicked. Crowley must have given him some sort of aphrodisiac for tonight. Castiel shifted on his feet, glancing down to his crotch, assessing when something would kick in.

“Come here, sweetness,” commanded the King of Hell, ushering you over with beckoning fingers. You did as you were told, striding over to the demon.

Crowley cupped your cheek, sweeping his thumb across your cheekbone. His eyes raked over your face, hovering on your lips before he leaned in, planting a soft kiss. You hummed into him, letting out a high moan into his mouth when you felt another warm body from behind.

A set of hands gripped your hips and drew them back, brushing fully against a newly hard Castiel. He ground into you gently as Crowley moved his lips fluidly with your own. A breath caught in your throat when Castiel’s lips found your neck, trained on the soft spot below your ear.

He sucked at your throat, adding a painful pressure that sent heat straight to your core. The marks you would have later would have a complicated explanation, for certain.

You whined softly into Crowley’s mouth, bringing out a deep hum from him. The demon’s hands finally moved down your body, taking their time over your shoulders, down to your chest, and to your waist. He kneaded softly at the supple flesh of your middle. Your head was spinning from the rush, unsure as to which man you should give your attention.

Sometimes, Castiel’s ability to read minds was irritating, but it was your saving grace tonight. His voice creeped over your hot skin as a low growl.

“You’re nervous,” he whispered. “You can’t decide what to do, correct? All I ask is that you breathe. Relax. Let us take care of the rest.”

You let out a bated breath, melting into the two men that kept you from falling apart at their voices. Castiel’s hands wandered to your front and moved upwards to your chest, gently palming your breasts through your shirt. You mewled softly when his fingers brushed over your nipples; he toyed with the hardened buds, rolling them between his fingers.

Crowley slipped under your shirt, pushing it upwards to your collarbone, exposing your aching breasts to the cold air of the room. He dipped his head to your chest, taking claim of a nipple from Castiel, swirling a warm tongue around it. You arched your chest into his touch, stomach tightening with each movement.

There was an air of urgency around you. You needed more, the glorious torture sent you in a tizzy, desperate for attention to your aching sex. Each part of you throbbed in unison, a soft cry for their touch.

“Someone’s growing impatient,” Castiel murmured against your skin. Crowley chuckled in reply before breaking away from you. He stared at you mischievously, snapping his fingers.

In the blink of an eye, your clothes vanished, as did Castiel and Crowley’s. Two thick cocks landed against your body, eager and throbbing with each grind into your nude form. Castiel eased his length against the middle of your ass, pumping himself on you. Crowley ground into you from the front, his heavy length pressed into your stomach.

Every part of you ached in need. To be touched. To be ravaged. To be fully used.

Crowley brought a hand to your neck, pressing firmly on either side to give you that crazed pleasure from lack of air. He urgently crashed his lips to yours as you struggled to breathe. His hand released you from its grip; the blood rushing back in had you panting, a sloppy smile on your face as you ogled the demon.

It was Castiel’s hands that were more greedy, to your surprise. He took his time groping your ass, your hips, your breasts.

“Seems that our angel appreciates your looks just as much as I do,” Crowley purred against your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake. You shivered at the air that blew across your skin, bucking your hips into Castiel’s length.

Crowley pulled you with him as he neared the bed, Castiel wasn’t far behind, pumping his cock with a fervent hand.

You sat on the edge of the bed. Crowley gently kissed your jaw, reaching your ear.

“Lay down, darling.”

Crawling to the top of the bed, you laid your head against the pillows. Castiel stood to your right, now making his way toward you. The bed dipped as both men came to your side, splitting up and moving to each end of your body.

Crowley trailed his tongue along your thigh, nipping your skin along the way. You reached upward to Cas, carding your fingers into his hair before tugging him down to you, pressing your lips to his.

As if it were lock and key, Castiel quickly took you over, kissing you with unmatched passion. His hands found your chest as they’d done before, twisting your nipple to bring out another high-pitched whine into his mouth.

Your legs were being urged apart, spread completely before Crowley, who awed at the sight of your wet slit, pulsing with each heartbeat and inviting entry. He dipped lower, nestling comfortably between your legs. His tongue jutted out and licked a wide stripe through your folds. Your hips bucked onto his tongue as it passed over your clit.

Castiel pulled away, “Does this feel good?”

The angel, as always, cared about you deeply. Your pleasure was his responsibility tonight, and he wanted to make sure he and Crowley were delivering the best service to you.

You nodded, gasping when Crowley wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking the swollen bud while his tongue flicked across the bundle of nerves. You needed more. To touch them.

Until now, you’d been so quickly overcome with pleasure you’d lost all sense to return the favor. You reached toward Cas blindly, finding his cock and wrapping your hand firmly around the shaft. He grunted as you pumped him with a tight grip, brushing your thumb over the head of his cock, now slick with precum.

You twisted your top half to face him, gripping the back of Castiel’s thigh and pulling him closer. His cock prodded your cheek before your tongue guided him into your mouth, swirling around the tip. He shuddered, bucking his hips eagerly into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed your head on his length, pushing yourself lower and lower until the head of his cock slammed into the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” Castiel cursed, paired with a low moan He stared in amazement as you worked on him, the way your lips looked better wrapped around him. An image he knew would never leave his mind.

Crowley drew your attention back to him, pressing a finger to your slick entrance, dipping in with ease. He curled the digit to brush your g-spot, sending a wave of heat across your skin. You moved your hips on his finger, whining around Castiel’s cock in your effort to get more pressure.

“Not a good… angle,” Castiel said gruffly. He pulled himself from your mouth, a string of spit showing you just how sloppy you’d gotten. Crowley broke his mouth away from your pussy, his fingers still pumping into you as Castiel took hold of your shoulders.

The angel tugged you sideways and backwards. Your head hung off the side of the bed, directly in front of Castiel’s thighs. His cock thumped against your jaw, a silent command to open your mouth. You slacked your jaw to allow him in, sucking him greedily.

He cradled your head in his hands, thrusting his hips into your mouth, the head of his cock hit the back of your throat with more ease this time. From this angle, he could fully use your throat, warm and tight.

“Good,” cooed the angel, shoving himself further into your mouth, “Good girl, open up.”

Your mouth had never felt more full, now being stuffed by Castiel’s dick. Tears stung in your eyes, falling past your cheeks and into your hair. You gagged on his length, barely finding a second to breathe. Cas stilled and pulled out of your mouth, patting your cheek lightly.

“Take a breath,” he instructed.

It was hard to do so when there was a demon’s fingers buried in your cunt. You cried out when Crowley’s pace quickened, with the tension in your abdomen you could hardly breathe at all.

Crowley shifted himself into his knees, leaning over to watch your expression as he pounded his fingers against your walls. You gaped up at him, straining your neck to watch his smile grow as an orgasm took you over wholly. Blinding white light clouded your vision as you clenched around his fingers.

Between your soft whimpers, Crowley praised you, “That’s a good girl. You look so beautiful like this.”

You relished in the praise, eagerly opening your mouth for Castiel once again. He pushed himself past your lips, striking the back of your mouth and easing into you slowly, filling your throat. He thrusted slowly at first, but quickly lost himself in the tightness of your throat, his hips hurting harshly into your mouth. You gagged loudly around him, but it went ignored. Castiel kept his relentless pace, glancing to Crowley and giving him a nod.

As he fucked your throat, Crowley positioned himself at your soaked folds, pressing the thick tip of his cock against your swollen clit. You cry out around Cas’s cock, drowned out by a harsh gag when he shoved himself in fully. He eased out of you as Crowley eased himself in, their movements in tandem with one another.

Hissing through gritted teeth, Crowley stretched you inch by inch, snapping his hips into yours as he bottomed out. You’d never though someone could be filled so easily, to feel like both ends of your body would be split right down the middle.

Crowley moved slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Castiel let up his movements, staring longingly at your pussy, now wrapped nicely around the demon’s cock. If there was a good word for how he felt, it would be jealousy.

The angel grew frustrated, a new wave of sadistic pleasure taking him over.

He smacked your cheek, “I’m not done.”

You opened your mouth dutifully, moaning around his cock. He kept his pace slow this time, giving your throat some well-needed relief. You wound your tongue around the head when he pulled from you, sucking harshly around his tip, bringing out a soft whimper. His hips sputtered slightly before he quickly pulled back, breathing heavily.

“Careful, Castiel,” Crowley teased, pulling you down onto his cock. “Keep going like that, you’ll disappoint our little toy, here.”

Castiel glared at the demon. His chest heaved with his heavy breaths, trying to recollect himself before going further. He lifted your shoulders and adjusted you back onto the bed. Crowley kept himself buried deep in your stretched pussy, jutting his hips to strike deeper and crash against your cervix.

There was no way you could disappointed this night. Not with the way your body was being taken advantage of, in the best way imaginable. You clenched down onto Crowley’s length, making him groan at the tightness of your walls. They fluttered around him as another climax crept up. With a few quick thrusts, the demon had you falling apart on his cock.

He laughed softly, “Slutty little thing, getting spit roasted like that. Two cocks using you until you’re all filled up.”

Crowley kept your gaze as he pounded into you, his balls slapping against your ass with every deep thrust. The noises coming from your pussy were wet, sloppy, and utterly divine. It was just what Crowley needed to hear, to know he was doing his job right.

A pair of lips found yours once again, moving smoothly against you as you shuddered around Crowley again. The shockwaves of your orgasm were hardly over before Crowley pulled his length out of your sweet cunt, stretched and aching to be filled again.

“Let’s have you on your knees, kitten,” Crowley directed, lifting you up to a sitting position. His gaze softened as he looked you over. Castiel gave you a concerned look.

“Is this still okay for you?” the angel asked, eyes keening for your answer.

You nodded quickly, looking between the two men, “Of course. It’s wonderful. I was wondering if… well…” you trailed off.

Crowley lifted your chin to look at him, “Use your words, princess.”

Biting your lips, you thought about how to phrase the words. You looked sheepishly between them, “I was wondering if you could take turns. From behind, I mean.”

A darkness pooled in his eyes at the thought. To use you so freely was a blessing he’d realized he went so long without. After this, he hoped you’d remember who you belonged to this night, whose names you would be screaming.

Crowley backed up, allowing you room to position yourself. You crept toward the edge of the bed, ass up in the air, your sore pussy in full view for them. They both approached you, gazing at the lewd sight before them. You pathetically ground your hips into nothing, your hole and clit being neglected as they took their time.

“Tell me, sweetheart, who’s this?” Crowley asked lowly. A cock sat at your entrance, teasing your hole before easing inside, stretching you out slowly. You were fucked slowly, letting your body adjust and asses the feeling. Hips snapped into yours, the cock crashing against your cervix. These movements felt different from before. The length still filled you, but not as it had done with Crowley.

“Cas… Castiel,” you whimpered.

“Smart girl,” Castiel said from behind. He rolled his hips into you, sending his cock deep into your pussy. A familiar wetness leaked from you down to your clit, completely soaked in your slick. Castiel eased himself into you until he reached the hilt of his length, stilling inside of you, processing the way your walls wrapped around him, slick and hot.

Ready to be used.

His hips crashed into you without warning. You bit into the sheets as you cried through gritted teeth. Castiel fucked you mercilessly, his balls smacking against your clit and sending shocks of pleasure to your heat, wrapping ever tighter around the angel’s cock. He grunted in response, landing a blow to your ass. A wide pink handprint now decorated your skin, followed by a series of other blows to deepen the rosy color.

Crowley tapped Castiel on the shoulder. You overheard him talking to the angel between your cries of ecstasy.

“Fill that cunt to the brim, Castiel. Use that hole properly.”

On command, Castiel’s thrusts became harsher, more frantic. His thick cock stretched your walls with each movement as he slammed himself into your cervix. Your stomach tightened as you came around him, letting out a loud cry of his name into the sheets.

Quickly undone, Castiel felt a rush over him when you said his name. His thrusts faltered again, cock twitching as he spilled his load into you. He pushed deeper as he finished, fucking his cum deeper inside of your cunt.

Crowley smiled at this, smirking to the angel. “Bred like the perfect little bitch. Good work, Castiel.”

Sweat pooled at Castiel’s brow, streaking down his face as he composed himself, regaining his breath. He looked to Crowley with a drained look before pulling from you. You whined as he left you empty.

Castiel resigned to the bed, flopping back to lay by your side. He shifted to brace himself on his arm, stroking a hand through your hair. Little praises flowed from him while Crowley lined himself with your entrance.

“You’re doing so wonderfully, sweetheart.”

You gave him a lazy smile, exhausted from the toll he’d taken on you. Your attention snapped back when you felt the head of Crowley’s cock press at your pussy, coated with what of Castiel’s cum had dripped out of you. He gripped the base of his cock and eased into you as he’d done before, filling you up deeper from this angle.

After a moment he was fully settled in, feeling your warmth around his length. Crowley groaned lowly as he began to thrusts, achingly slow at first.

Hardly done, and you were sore, to say the least. The internal battle of your soreness, versus the sweet sensation of a cock filling you, could never be won. You pushed your hips onto his length, smacking softly against his hips. In reply, Crowley harshly gripped your hips and began to pick up his pace.

Each moan was a symphony, a song of whines and groans that could only be one thing.

Pure, frenzied pleasure.

You arched your back when Castiel’s hands roamed over your perk nipples, fondling each breast as best he could given the angle. You hoisted yourself up on your elbows to grant him permission to go further. His calloused hands ran across your chest to your face, cupping it gently while he watched your expression contort with each deep thrust.

Castiel smiled warmly as you cried out Crowley’s name, unable to move from the grip the angel had on you. His eyes were glued to yours. He wouldn’t dare miss a second of this.

After he’d felt you before, Crowley was just as easily spellbound by the way you took him. Each thrust pulled him further to the edge of his own orgasm, but he was intent on drawing another one from you before he did so.

“Who does this belong to?” Crowley’s voice was soft as the finest silk.

At this point, each sensation rolling through you left you gasping, all rationale had left you completely.

You dumbly whimpered out a reply, “You… both of you.”

Crowley snapped his hips into yours, setting his cock impossibly deep inside your pussy. His pace was, arguably, more intense than Castiel’s, ravaging you whole as you shuddered around him. Your climax tore through you like lightning - your vision blurred, eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

“Smart girl. You’ll get your reward very soon,” Crowley said sweetly.

Your clenched down onto him, smiling to yourself when you felt the King’s cock twitch inside of you. Crowley breathed haggardly but remained intent on his brutal pace, stretching every warm inch of your cunt to fit his cock perfectly.

Castiel’s lips caught your own, swallowing the sweet sounds you made when Crowley’s thrusts began to grow sloppy. Crowley slammed himself into you once, twice, three times until his own orgasm hit him. He slowed his movements as his own released spilled inside of you, coating your tight cunt in his cum - a reward for your obedience.

He pulled from you slowly, his drained cock hanging heavily at your ass. Warmth flooded over you as cum leaked from your pussy, staining the sheets beneath you. You lowered yourself to sit on your knees. What all had been resting inside of your sex was still flowing out of you - it was it’s own reward for being of service to these two men, after all.

Castiel presented a newly-summoned washcloth, warm and damp to the touch. He left it up to you to clean yourself before snapping his fingers, cleaning himself entirely.

“Oh, please, Cas. Where are your manners?” Crowley said, snapping.

In an instant you were fully clean and dry, melting into the mattress with a sigh. Crowley’s clothes had come back, as did Castiel’s a moment later. The two men sat your side, looking over you with pure endearment.

“I certainly hope that that was okay,” whispered Crowley, carding his fingers through your hair. You nodded, groggily shifting yourself to sit up with them. Each movement reminded you of how sore you’d be tomorrow. Regardless, it was an unforgettable experience you’d think about for a very, very long time.

With another snap of his fingers, Crowley handed you a set of thick, cozy pajamas, paired with fuzzy socks. You smiled at him, thankful that he valued your comfort.

“Are you sore at all?” Castiel piped up.

You nodded, “It’s okay, though. I like it.”

Castiel’s brows furrowed, “Humans are strange… some of you like being in pain. It is a foreign concept.”

“We could make it not-so-foreign, if you’d like,” Crowley retorted. Castiel simply rolled his eyes instead of the signature glare. You shuffled into your pajamas and sat back on the bed.

Neither the angel nor the demon left your side, instead leaning back into the bed with you.

“Staying?” you asked, “I was going to put on a movie.”

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?” 

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful. 

“(Y/N)?” 

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine. 

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?” 

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?” 

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added. 

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.” 

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.” 

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression. 

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly. 

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once. 

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink. 

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily. 

You smiled. “Lemonade.” 

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently. 

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter. 

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly. 

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.” 

Despite yourself, you laughed. 

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.” 

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.” 

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left. 

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them? 

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.” 

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it. 

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you. 

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing. 

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing. 

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows. 

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him. 

“It is.” 

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.” 

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.” 

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright” 

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking. 

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you. 

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.” 

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?” 

“No, we’ve got two singles.” 

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.” 

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.” 

“I know, but–” 

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 

“What’s that supposed to–” 

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.” 

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed. 

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?” 

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.” 

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant. 

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now. 

“Would you like some help?” 

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you. 

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.” 

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched. 

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault. 

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab. 

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.” 

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.” 

“Should I keep going?” 

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad. 

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead. 

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.” 

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you. 

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?” 

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer. 

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. 

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his. 

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade. 

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound. 

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright. 

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it. 

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.” 

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses. 

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing. 

He looked up, frowning. “What?” 

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.” 

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside. 

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive. 

You nodded. “Are you?”  

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters. 

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused. 

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips. 

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?” 

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering. 

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.” 

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…” 

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed. 

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.” 

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.” 

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away. 

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?” 

He nodded. 

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?” 

“Please,” he murmured. 

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him? 

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him. 

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment. 

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. 

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.” 

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?” 

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked. 

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.” 

He stared. “Do you want to?” 

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath… 

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?” 

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.” 

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you. 

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life. 

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?” 

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?” 

“Mhm.”  

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that. 

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful. 

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake. 

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.” 

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning. 

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before. 

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to. 

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that. 

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out. 

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…” 

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled. 

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.” 

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes. 

“Mhm?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?” 

“Yeah, alright.” 

“Alright?” 

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.” 

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip. 

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat. 

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?” 

You smiled. “Magic word?” 

“Please,” he practically growled. 

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute. 

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–” 

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.  

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.” 

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade. 

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely. 

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).” 

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair. 

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.” 

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless. 

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.” 

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright. 

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face. 

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting. 

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?” 

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?” 

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.” 

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.” 

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning. 

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Mhm.” 

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body. 

“Mhm.” 

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most. 

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.” 

“I want you to feel–” 

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?” 

“But I’m–” 

“Cas.” 

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch. 

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you. 

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.” 

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy. 

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit. 

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves. 

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked. 

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“Yes, Cas, just like that.” 

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” 

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly. 

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good? 

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully. 

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps. 

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?” 

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing. 

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said. 

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine. 

Cas froze immediately. 

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.” 

“Is this not–” 

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs. 

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small. 

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. 

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.” 

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.” 

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged. 

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable. 

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.” 

“I don’t want to squash you.” 

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.” 

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?” 

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out. 

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.” 

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed. 

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock. 

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours. 

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?” 

He swallowed, his eyes dark. 

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.” 

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” 

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide. 

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time. 

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?” 

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name. 

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.  

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that. 

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs. 

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!” 

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra. 

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer. 

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment. 

“Hm?” 

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.” 

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.” 

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be. 

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch. 

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat. 

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed. 

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?” 

After a moment, he nodded. 

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again. 

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.” 

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?” 

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty. 

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.” 

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.” 

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him. 

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much. 

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile. 

“Hello.” 

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” 

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.” 

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully. 

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…” 

He waited, watching you stumble over your words. 

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely. 

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.” 

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang. 

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen. 

“What do you want?” you growled. 

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?” 

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.” 

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?” 

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked. 

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden. 

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt. 

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.” 

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”  

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.” 

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question. 

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier. 

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point. 

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!” 

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. 

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing. 

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.” 

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam? 

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck. 

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.” 

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. 

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?” 

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything. 

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.” 

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.” 

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.” 

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared. 

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.” 

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.” 

“No? Who else?” 

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now. 

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.  

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” 

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all. 

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas. 

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.” 

“No, I mean–” 

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.” 

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?” 

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug. 

Cas frowned. “Told him what?” 

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!” 

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.” 

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?” 

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas. 

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.” 

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.” 

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?” 

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.” 

“Mhm, back at Stanford–” 

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.” 

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.” 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.” 

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly. 

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back. 

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.” 

For as long as you could remember, the club you worked at was always packed, booked, and busy on Halloween nights. How could it not be? A decent enough drink at a less-than-decent establishment with a pretty bad good chance of going home with someone you’ll forget in the next twenty-four hours? What could be better this time of year?

The line already started to curve around the block, with girlfriends dragging along their boyfriends, girl friends having a fun night out with their girl friends, and lonely twenty-somethings just wanting to get their rocks off. You rolled your eyes at the sight as you slipped through the “employee’s only” entrance and dropped your bag inside your locker in the backroom lounge. 

The place was damp, the neon lights were shitty, the bar was sticky with gum and drinks you couldn’t quite scrub out, and the walls were covered in graffiti and scrawled-on phone numbers and who knows what else…but you couldn’t help but smile as you filed in behind your coworkers because it was home, your home for the past few years.

“Hey!” one of your coworkers yelled from across the room, calling your name and rushing towards you in a cloud of gold and glitter. “Where’s your costume? Kevin wanted all of us to get into the holiday spirit tonight.”

You dropped your bag into your locker before reaching inside and pulling out a plastic bag. As much as you loved your boss for tolerating you all these years and keeping you hired, he always had a flare for dramatics that was incredibly extra. He had texted every one of your coworkers that you were required to dress up for tonight’s holiday festivities and then proceeded to - at least, to your knowledge - doused the insides of the club with so many cheap Halloween decorations that you’re sure he ran the local party store fresh out of their stock for the next year.

“I know, Cynthia,” you told her, pulling out a small wire halo and angel wings covered in white and silver feathers. “Can’t you tell what I’m gonna be?” You plastered on a smile and gestured down to your all-white party dress and heels.

“You never wear all white, though…” She gasped. “Are you an angel?”

“Exactly, and you are…?”

“Cleopatra, silly!” she smiled, giving you a twirl, the glitter adorning her bodice and skin spreading everywhere. “I’m gonna be by the door handing out flyers and stuff for the dance competition later, so I gotta look cute and eye-catching somehow.”

Cynth gave you a wink before rushing back off to finish her makeup, her beaded headpiece clacking away and making you smile softly before you slipped on your own accessories over your “costume”. The heels you wore were just for show, after all, just for showing Kevin that you actually tried to put some effort in for tonight.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered, forcing a smile onto your face as you stumbled your way past your coworkers and through the back of the club, finally pulling back the curtain that lead into the main dancefloor.

The swirling neon spotlights damn near blinded you when you emerged, the DJ already setting up hisetlist for the night as mini pumpkin, ghost and other Halloween confettis absolutely littered the floor. There was orange and black confetti coming down from the ceiling, giant bat stickers on the walls, orange and green glowsticks linen the floors….there were even Halloween themed condoms in a cup by the bathrooms in case there were any rowdy couples who can’t keep it in their pants.

Kev really went all out this year, huh, but guess who has to clean all of this up later tonight, you thought to yourself, silently cursing your boss before taking your place behind the bar and pulling out the foam slides you always hid below the glasses, immediately slipping off your heels and sliding them on with a sigh of relief.

You always leave your space tidy and well-kept despite how crappy it may look at first glance; you always kept your glasses cleaned, your multiple bar towels ready for the multiple accidents that always seem to happen on the other side, your tumblers are always together and you always restock your various liquors weekly. It’s your home away from home, your place to control and dictate.

You were cleaning off some glasses nearby with one of your bar towels, trying to shoulder one side of your angel wings back onto place when the music really started to kick up, the bass hitting you all the way in the back just as the front doors opened and the flood of people started filling the space.

In a matter of minutes, both the main dancefloor and the smaller second floor were full of eager partygoers looking for a good time, the air around the bar already feeling hot and stuffy from the bodies packed against each other.

Speaking of, the bar was packed with people looking forward to their first drink out of many of the night, each person and group shouting off what drinks, cocktails and mocktails they wanted off the Halloween menu Kev had you create and memorize the week prior.

But you’ve always loved a challenge, and tonight proved no different.

You never knew what kind of people you were going to get as you threw your bar towel over your shoulder and began taking orders, jotting them down with the person’s description on the small notepad you kept in the side cabinet. Some nights it was mainly loners, drifters who couldn’t quite find their crowd, sometimes it was scared twenty-one year-olds getting dragged along with their older friends as they threw literally every high-alcohol content drink that you had down their throats, and other times it was creeps who couldn’t quite keep their eyes in their heads and their hands to themselves.

But something deep within your mind told you otherwise; it told you that tonight would be…different. Something told you that tonight would finally make you feel something.

Yeah, right, you scoffed, reaching for your glasses and getting ready for the long night ahead. Like that’ll ever happen.

He’s eyeing you again, you could tell.

Even with your back to him as you reached for the top-shelf bourbon, you could tell.

The same shiver is rolling up your spine just like it had the previous three times beforehand since he entered the club. Your pulse thrummed loudly in your veins, mostly because of the cheesy dubstep flowing from the Dj’s speakers but partly because of….him.

You had dubbed him Mister Tall, Dark, and…Tall. One, due to the very clear foot he had over you in height - you could tell even from all the way across the room and through a sea of people - and two, because of his costume…or lack thereof, to be precise.

He was dressed in all black from what you could see, save for the plastic red devil horns one of your coworkers was giving out to people who were looking “a little less than festive”, in their words. The various rings and chains that adorned his fingers, his jacket, the chain that dipped down below his clavicle, all the way down those long legs to his boots glinted as the club lights danced over him.

His hair was long, slicked back into a low ponytail with the sides shaved and from what you could see from your position, your eyes trailed up his chest and neck at the various tattoos that lied there.

You don’t remember him coming down to the bar for a drink but he was nursing one anyway, one leg hitched up on the wall behind him as he leaned back and took a sip, that blank expression of his never changing throughout the whole night.

There was always someone at his side trying to chat him up, though. Some lonely guy or girl saddling up next to him, lightly dragging their finger over his slightly exposed chest and leaning against his arm before whispering something in his ear - probably about how they should just get out of here and rock his world in the alley behind the club.

And every single time, they would leave disappointed with their tail tucked between their legs and pouted lips, the dark sunglasses he wore never shifting from his face as he waved them off his shoulder.

In another life, maybe you would be one of them; eager to get a taste, only to be rejected and come to the bar to drown your sorrows in booze…but not tonight.

Despite his eyes being covered, you could feel the weight of his stare drawing over your figure; over your shoulders, your chests, your waist and stomach, over the curve of your ass and your thighs whenever you would turn around to get something on the shelves behind you.

And what’s worse, Mister Tall, Dark, and Tall over there had an aura, a vibe around him that made you feel.

And you haven’t felt for anyone in who-knows-how-long.

Feeling for people doesn’t last with you, not after the last time….

You looked down and began wiping away the various spills and forgotten napkins people had left on the bar, feeling his gaze grow stronger and stronger by the second. You felt exposed in a way, almost as though he was sizing you up for some reason.

It was only for a second but you had reached under the bar to grab a fresh towel, and as soon as you reemerged…he was there, leaning against your bar with one hand around his glass and the other reaching into his jacket pocket for something.

And, to be frank, it scared the shit out of you.

“Jesus, fuck!” you yelled, damn near smashing your foot against the leg of the stool you have behind the bar when you jumped back, causing him to slowly turn around to face you. “You damn near gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“My bad,” he apologized, placing his now empty glass on the bar in front of him. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” You were right; he was tall as hell, towering a foot or so above you with an aura strong enough to nearly plant you on your ass again.

And, holy fuck, his voice. Erotic audios don’t have shit on the deep timber this guy’s voice has, the brief words he spoke to you rolling over your body like the world’s best weighted blanket and keeping you rooted to him as such.

You placed your hand over your chest, willing your heartbeat to go down as you threw the fresh bar towel over your shoulder, letting out a breath. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that, you know.”

He shrugs. “That’s just how I am, angel. Gotta keep the mystery up somehow.”

“Angel?”

He gestured to your now crooked halo and the fluffy wings at your back, a smirk gracing his lips. “A fitting nickname for a woman cute enough to be one in the flesh.”

“Smooth,” you replied, reaching over to pull his glass closer to you, turning around to face the wall of liquor behind you. “What’s your poison, then? How can this angel bless you tonight?”

You couldn’t tell, but a darkness glazed over his eyes when you said that, making him bite his lip and eye you up and down. “Two fingers of wihskey for me, please. Fireball, if you have it.”

Now, that surprised you. “Fireball? Straight? You drink that stuff?” You shuddered. You and the fiery cinnamon whisky were never truly friends, and you never really pulled it off the shelf unless another brave soul wandered up to you looking for a challenge.

“Deep within the pain of the burn lies the pleasure hidden underneath,” he responded, watching as you grab the bottle and pour him what he asked for.

You scoffed. “Okay, Romeo.”

A moment of silence passed between you two after he thanked you for his drink, lifting the glass to his lips until his other hand found what he was looking for. “You know we don’t allow those things in here, right?” you shouted at him over the music, reaching over the bar to tap his shoulder and pointing at the two items he had pulled out of his jacket: a small pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

He smiled at you, putting his drink down and proceeding to light it anyway, the small flame reflecting in his shades and seeming to almost challenge you to do something about it. “What’s life without a little danger, angel?”

“What’s danger without a little caution to go with it?”

“Why believe in caution when you could just throw it to the wind?”

You paused, your gaze trapped in his as he cleverly blew smoke from his mouth, holding your gaze and smiling again before placing the cigarette back between his lips. “Touché, mysterious man at my bar. You got a point there.” Another second passed before you spoke again. “Tell me, o’ great purveyor of danger and mystery, what’s your name?”

He turned his head off to the side to look through one of the club’s circular windows, the moon glinting in his sunglasses as he pondered your question before turning back to you with a smile. “Damian,” he told you, the depth in his voice rumbling the base of your spine as he spoke. His hand reached for yours, taking it within his larger one as he plucked the cigarette from his lips and leaned down to kiss the back of your hand.

And his lips….fucking hell, were they supposed to be that soft? He tilted his head up in your direction, smirking with that beautiful face of his before standing back up. “At your service, angel. And what might your name be?”

You breathlessly gave it to him, the place where he had laid his lips upon your hand tingling with…something you couldn’t quite name. Was it fear? Anticipation? Something more? You couldn’t quite tell.

What you could tell, however, was that this guy - Damian - was…interesting. He gave off a vibe that you couldn’t really describe as he continued to smoke his cigarette, cleverly blowing smoke from his nose once he caught you staring at him again. And the spot on your hand where he kissed you seemed to pulse and beat with a life of its own, him looking on curiously when you ran your fingertips over it.

You poured yourself a drink as well in the meantime - your favorite: tequila with ice and a slice of lime - and nursed the small shot glass in your hands, Damian taking note and raising his own.

“Hmm? What for?”

“For whatever,” he chuckled, his voice suddenly seeming to drown out the energy surrounding you both. “Whatever you wish tonight to be, and for however long you wish to spend it with me.”

It took everything within you not to roll your eyes but you clinked glasses with him anyway, downing your shot and already reaching for another.

“This should be interesting…”

You don’t know how exactly how long it’s been but the two of you spent the rest of the night together as you worked, talking and casually drinking and chatting as though you had known him for years before this very moment.

A small pile of Damian’s cigarettes laid on a bar napkin in front of you as the conversation between you flowed easier than you had thought it would, with him asking you questions about your life with you, in turn, asking him to regale you with the tales of his many travels.

“So, you’re telling me that a dude that small did that much damage to your nose?” you asked, chuckling along with him as you poured him another round.

He laughed, the smell of cinnamon whiskey flowing from his mouth and to your nose. “Absolutely. Damn near turned my nose into powdered sugar with the force of that kick. Luckily, it didn’t do as much damage as I thought it would. At least, I hope it didn’t.”

“Yeah, your face looks absolutely horrendous right now. The Wicked Witch of the West called, she said she wants her nose back.”

“Ouch, that’s cold of you, angel,” he laughed with a smile, raising his glass to you and downing his drink in one go once again. “But I must say, I would make a beautiful witch.”

“That you would, Damian, that you fucking would.” Your cheeks hurt from all the smiling, the entire club and its atmosphere seeming to fade out into the background as he started to continue his story. And as he spoke, you felt that same feeling flood your veins, the hairs on your arms standing straight and your posture beginning to relax a lot more.

You can’t remember the last time you felt like…like this before, let alone working one of the busiest nights of the year. You felt content, almost. Better than you have in years being this close to someone of the opposite sex.

You felt happy.

You were jotting down another order when you felt his hand on your wrist, large and warm and surprisingly soft. When you looked up, there he was just a few inches away from you, your own startled expression being reflected back at you through his shades.

“I have an idea…” he started, his gaze seeming to ignite something within you as your heart began to race. “Let’s…get out of here. I wanna show you something.” The way he spoke to you felt…different. You knew he was trying to get into your metaphorical pants - that much was obvious - but his tone sounded…darker. More lustful dangerous than creepy dangerous.

You could practically see the mischief in his eyes, the mix of cinnamon and whiskey combined with the leftover cigarette smoke and his overall presence practically making you drunk off that alone. He was pulling you in again, the world spinning to a halt and fading away again for what felt like an eternity. In this moment, there was no music, no bright and annoying neon club lights, no drunk partygoers sloshing their way up to you and asking for another round, no coworkers hounding you to be more enthusiastic….there was none of that.

All there was around you, over you, covering you was Damian.

His voice in your ears, his scent in your nose, his eyes on you, the feeling of his hand on your skin as he gently caressed it and traced shapes over the inside of your wrist. His voice dripped over you like fresh honey, equal parts sticky sweet and just as addicting. You didn’t even notice yourself begin to lean forward into his touch, your lips just barely brushing his….

They were just as soft as you thought they were, a voice in the back of your mind said quietly before you felt like you were yanked into an ice cold lake, your eyes shooting open as you jumped back and yanked your arm from his grasp.

Your actions startled Damian as well, the taller man slowly pulling his hand back with raised brows, looking just as shocked as you were. But he quickly gained control, leaning one arm on the bar before asking, “You alright there, angel? Did I scare you or something?”

“I…” you started, unsure of exactly what just happened. “No, no you didn’t. And as for your question…”

You reached behind you to grab a clean pint glass to fill it before handing the beer to the guy sitting next to him, taking his payment before tapping Damian’s nose with the tip of your finger. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than getting me liquor-ed up and loose lipped to get me into your bed.”

“Oh, playing hard to get, I see?”

“I just wanna see what I’m working with here. Who knows, you might really be a demon in disguise,” you teased, matching his smirk before refilling your own drink. “But, as a great man once told me, what’s life without a little danger?”

His smile grew wide and he laughed as you raised your glass to his, the two of you cheering and taking a drink together.

The night seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye after that, you willingly choosing to ignore the waring feelings that still lingered within you as you talked. One moment, you were being drawn into Damian, into his words and his stories and the heated gaze you felt beneath those shades that hid his eyes too well and the next, you were being rapidly yanked back into reality, fumbling with the glass and bar towel in your hand as you rushed to cater to your bar patrons.

It was almost like a game to him, seeing you this frazzled and off your game as you shifted between relaxing while talking to him and whipping up cocktails and a show for the various clubbers who were willing to stitch around and watch. You wish you could tell what he was thinking when you looked back over at him, finishing your mini-show to a small round of applause before finally sitting down to take a break.

The night was finally beginning to slow down now as the clock tolled midnight, the seas of clubbers drunkenly and exhaustingly making themselves scarce as they began to file out the front door and your coworkers started to clean up the mess of decorations, cups, drinks, food and whatever else that littered the floors.

“Hey, Damian,” you said all of a sudden, cleaning off the last glass of the night before sitting back on your stool, “tonight was fun, really fun, but I gotta start heading home soon. It’s getting late and duty calls for the extra morning shift.”

His shoulder seemed to sag when you told him that, facing you and leaning his hands on the bar. He watched you in silence as you slipped of your foam slides and put your heels back on, shimmying your way out from behind the bar and almost falling flat on your face in the process.

“Whoa, there, angel! Relax, the night’s not going anywhere.”

Where you had expected to feel hardwood meeting your nose and smashing it to bits like in Damian’s story, you instead felt…nothing? All except a warm feeling around your waist as he lifted you from your potential fall and stabilized your footing. His hands felt…nice on your body, almost like they were meant to be there…

“And besides, you are in no shape to go all the way home like this, especially in those.” He gestured down to your shoes, your near-fall proving his point exactly correct.

“So, why don’t I walk you home tonight? I can play savior in case you trip and try to hurt yourself again.”

You playfully slap his shoulder before moving out of his hold, the area where his hands were now feeling ice cold without his warmth. “I thought I was the angel here.”

“Just this once is all I ask, as a thank you for the constant flow of alcohol into my system and the wonderful conversation. Then, the title is all yours.”

You can tell that he winked at you through his shade and it made you smile, telling him to wait outside by the entrance so you can go get your things real quick.

A quick trip to the backroom lounge later and Damian was still by the front door, your angel wings being held by their straps in one of your hands and the other holding your bag, hands in his packers as he gazed up at the night sky. “You ready to go, angel?”

You nodded, shifting your bag onto your shoulder as he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way over to you. “Well, then, lead the way.”

With a light smile on your face, the two of you start off in the direction of your apartment, your heart beginning to beat wildly in your chest for some reason as the club began to grow smaller and smaller in size behind you.

You both walked in a relative - albeit comfortable - silence, 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot, angel.”

“You haven’t taken off your sunglasses the whole night,” you start, standing in front of him with your arms crossed as your feathered wings dangled in the wind. “Why? Are you, like, missing an eye or something? Are they tattooed? Are you a vampire, perhaps?”

Damian smiled. “No, hell no, and I wish I was, angel. I’m just not a fan of the bright neon club scene. The light of it all kinda hurts my eyes. But, if you’re asking to see them, well…”

He moved his hands towards his shades, slid them off his face and…

…holy fuck, his eyes were gorgeous. Warm pools of deep brown stared back at you with just the lightest flecks of gold sprinkled into them. You could see why people couldn’t get their hands away from him before he came to the bar because damn. Those eyes mixed with that voice and that face….your heart and your core began to beat in unison, your thighs clenching together slightly before you paused.

“Well, then…”

“Cat got your tongue, angel? The night’s just getting started,” he said, folding them away and putting them in the pocket of his jacket.

“For you, maybe,” you mumbled, crossing your arms before smiling at him. “Unlike you, I’m not a sexy drifter with a deep voice and nice tattoos looking for another new adventure.”

Damian gasped playfully. “You think I’m sexy?”

“That’s not the point you’re supposed to be focusing on here.”

He laughed - god, his laugh was like molasses, flowing through and over you all deep and dark and all things rich - and your heart sung a merry tune, the corners of his eyes crinkling and making you want to stick your fingers in the small dimples that made themselves known in his cheeks.

“It’s such a shame, really,” you told him, trying your best to keep in step with his long strides, “that more people don’t get the chance to see those lovely eyes of yours. If you weren’t the drifter you are, you’d make a killing as a model.”

“What kind of model?” he questioned, raising his brows and wiggling them at you.

“Ha-ha, Damian.” You tried your best not to get flustered by him and his voice again but with how he’s looking at you, his hand slowly snaking around your waist and pulling you close to his warmer frame just as the wind passed by you…how could you not be?

He even slowed down his walk for you, keeping you as close to himself as possibly to avoid you tripping over anything in your heels.

“What if I step on your feet?” you asked, your entire body practically fitting perfectly underneath his arm.

“So you do care about me, angel.” You rolled your eyes in response. “But, you don’t have to worry about me like that. I’ve dealt with a lot worse than getting stepped on with some heels.”

You don’t know why, but that made you laugh. You’ve laughed a lot tonight, a lot more than you have before…and it’s all because of him. You should feel weird about that - and a part of you does - but the others just don’t, for some reason.

“Good night, angel. Sleep well for me, okay?”

“Yes, dad,” you groaned playfully, not noticing the spark you lit dancing in his eyes. The way he watched you as you moved up the steps of your building and towards the front entrance made you shiver like back at the club, almost as if he was undressing you with his eyes.

“Good night, Damian. I guess I’ll see you arounf, then?”

He nodded, taking a hand out of his pants pocket and waving to just as you did him before turning on his heel and striding away in the opposite direction you both came from.

As soon as you made it inside, you briefly checked your phone, pulling it out to send him a “thank you” text for the interesting night when…

You don’t have his number, do you?

Shit.

“Hold on, Damian! Wait! I forgot to give you my-”

But he was long gone by the time you ran back to the door, seeming to vanish into thin air in a matter of mere moments.

“Damn it,” you cursed, mentally slapping yourself over forgetting something like that. But that same voice from earlier, the one inside you tells you that you’ll meet him again, you’ll meet him soon.

I hope so, you thought, grateful that your apartment was on the first floor of your building before unlocking your door and slipping your feet out of those godforsaken heels. Locking the front door, you tossed your bag onto the sofa and quickly rushed to your room, ridding yourself of your tight dress and “costume” accessories in a trail behind you.

You dug around your closet before throwing on a light shirt and shorts for bed, yawning loudly once you finally got comfortable enough to flop face first onto your bed.

And with that, your night was over, Damian’s velvet voice faintly carrying you to sleep with a tired smile on your face.

You opened your eyes to a room of black and deep grey with deep violet, almost black lace curtains adorning the large poster bed you were currently laying on and draping towards the floor. You tried to move your arms but felt resistance, looking up to see your wrists shackled to the head of the bed in white fluffy handcuffs.

The cheap halo and wings you had worn the night before were still on you, and a quick look down at the rest of you proved that those were the only things that you were wearing.

But for some reason, you felt…fine…with that. More than content with that, even. In fact, you liked it, the space between your thighs growing hotter by the second as the curtains at the foot ofthe bed parted to reveal…Damian?

“There you are, angel,” he murmurs, the tone of his voice going straight to your core and making you whimper. “I was worried you were lost there for a second.”

He pushed his hair back with one hand - wait, when did he let his hair down?! - and straddled your trembling body, running his hands over your your thighs and up to your waist. He was shirtless, those tattoos you only got a small glimpse of the night before on full display now for your eyes, which were just as hungry and wanting as his.

Yours trailed up his arms and over his shoulders, down his collarbone and over his chest, down and down until your gaze rested on the tent in his pants as he round his cock against your aching folds.

You rattled the cuffs at your wrists as his hands began to roam, moaning when you felt his lips press against your ear. “I’m feeling a bit…hungry, right now. May I indulge in you?”

He didn’t even have to say much; he’s only asking you a fucking question and yet….

And yet…here you were, your entire body vibrating fast enough to generate its own heat shield as his lips trailed over your ear, across your jaw and up your face until they just barely grazed your lips. It wasn’t you that responded to him but it was you, in a sense, your own lips parting to answer his question.

“Yes, yes please-”

His chuckle made you feel warm all over, his velvet tone running fron the top of your head to the tip of your toes. “Thank you, my angel.” His voice was as soft as the sheets you laid upon, lis lips parting ways from yours and beginning their descent downwards.

Your neck felt the light touch of his lips before you gasped, your back arching whe you felt his teeth sink into the soft flesh. Damian’s hands gripped you waist and held you tight, marking every patch of skin his bite could reach. You could already see them now; the bruises and bites and marks this man has left on your flesh, detailing every single time he took you and make you his and his alone…

Your neck burned from the markings he left on you, the man pulling back slightly to access his work with a dark smile. But he wanted more of you, the deep hunger rolling within his soul craving every last drop of desire he could possibly wring from you.

From your neck he continued his journey downwards, leaving similar bite marks around your collarbone and the tops of your breasts. Damian cupped them in his hands, rolling your nipples and twisting them with his thumb and pointer finger until you let out a groan.

Your cries fed him more than you would ever know, your moans and whines the sweetest of symphonies to his eager ears.

His mouth left a heated trail over your breasts, taking your left nipple into his mouth to work on while he teased the other with his left hand. His free hand, however, began to finish the trail his mouth had started, tracing shapes all the way down until his hand reached your folds.

“You’re so wet, angel,” he groaned, his thumb gently swirling around your clit as hos other hand moved to part your thighs more. “Is this all for me?”

You nodded helplessly at his question, your hips bucking up into his hand as he rubbed your folds. His eyes….his eyes began to shift as his smirk grew, bleeding from their warm brown to a darker brown until finally, nothing more than a deep black the shade of midnight covered both his eyes.

It took you by surprise, the drastic shift in his gaze, latching you to him as he slipped two of his fingers into you. A smaller gasp left your lips when he began to slowly pump them inside of you, curling them briefly before pulling them away from you and licking away the mess you made on his hand.

“You’re so sweet for sweet, angel,” he moaned, the taste of you hot and heavy on his tongue. The darker force inside of him growled happily as he cleaned off the digits and slid them right back inside of you, his teeth seeming to sharpen to little points as his grin began to widen.

“That’s it, relax your body for me. Let me handle all of it,” you heard, your leg being folded against your chest much farther than you’d ever tried to move it yourself. Your thighs began to shake, your core quivering when Damian curled his fingers and his fingertips grazed that sensitive spot that lined your walls.

You hear him mutter, “There we go, there it is,” before plunging the digits deeper within your core, playing you like the finest tuned instrument and pulling noises from you that none of your previous partners ever had.

You didn’t even worry about where you were or who could possibly hear you, nor did you care about the potential logistics of sleeping with someone that you had just met. All that mattered to you in this moment was the exponentially rising crest in your core, that tightly wound spring that was winding itself even tighter.

Your cuffs rattled as you shook in his grip, your heartbeat pulsing and pulling towards Damian as though it was leashed to him, jumping and stopping and moving to his every command and movement. Your eyes began to roll into your skull, pleasure coursing through your veins.

And throughout all of it, Damian and his eyes just watched. They watched and smiled and egged your release on as he drove you closer and closer to that edge.

“Let go for me, my sweet angel”, he whispered in your ear, nails digging into the meat of your thigh as his onyx eyes held you captive. You were his prisoner now, his to toy with and use and wreck until your legs shook and your eyes rolled back into your skull and your mind was nothing more than mush for him to reshape into his perfect, submissive little angel.

“Let go for me. I can feel that you want it, that you crave your release. I need it, I need you.”

He wants more of you. More of your juices, more of your arousal, more of the noises that leave your kiss swollen lips, more of everything. And he will take what he’s due.

Something in your chest tugged and pulled towards him, his thumb going into overdrive around your clit as he fucked you senseless with his fingers, almost as though you were being pulled towards him.

Being pulled deeper and deeper within his eyes, within his aura, within the endless pool of arousal he’s dragged you into…it was all becoming too much, too much for you to bear and keep resisting-

“Cum for me, angel. My angel, all mine. Give me everything you have, everything you are, now-”

You shot up out of bed in a flurry of your own sheets and pillows, limbs flailing and eyes wideshot with the bed below you drenched in as much sweat as you were despite the windows being fully open.

Your skin was hot to the touch and your core was absolutely drenched with your arousal, the mess staining your sleep shorts and your inner thighs as they quaked. Placing a hand to your chest, you felt something tug at your innermost heartstrings, making you gasp and seemingly rise further out of your bed.

Lust ran through your body like lava fresh from a volcano, images of….Damian…bedding you in the most sinful ways possible flooding through your mind. You could still hear his voice in your ear, the deep timber of it telling you to let go so he can fully taste you, consume everything you’re willing to give him and then some, so you can finally be his and him yours-

You slammed a pillow over your face and moaned, and you swore you could feel his hands lightly dragging up your body, the trail his fingertips leave feeling like a fire you never want to put out. Your core pulsed at just the mere thought of him, and you slammed your face into the pillow over and over again as you recall your words from last night.

You just fucking met him last night, what are you thinking?! He’s a stranger, you don’t know him. He could be a serial killer for all you know….

And yet, Damian acted….like a sort-of nice guy to you last night. Talked to you more than anyone of the opposite sex has in who-knows-how-long. He made you laugh, made you feel….normal, like an actual person instead of an object. He even walked you home last night because he didn’t want to see you hurt all alone…

How many drinks did I have last night, fucking Christ…

Your head pounded and you planted your fist over it, holding your other hand over your face as a sort of shield against the early morning light. You felt….drained. You usually felt like that after a long night of working and staying up so damn late to do so, but this was….different. This felt different, almost like someone stuck a straw inside you like a human juice pouch and sucked the energy right out of you.

A single question ran through your mind as you shifted towards the edge of the bed, your feet hitting the cool floor of your bedroom as your brain brought up the hottest dream you’ve had in years once more, making your heartrate shoot through the roof again and tugging at your heart once more.

What the fuck just happened?

A deep chuckle left Damian’s lips as he twirled his fingers, a thin, deep violet thread trailing from his ring finger towards his open window. The magic within it pulsed with life and a hefty desire, thrumming with the beat of your heart. His grin shined like pearls and his eyes shifted from their warm, chocolatey brown to a black as dark as midnight, pulling one deeper, deeper, deeper within….

He rose from his chair, clad in nothing but the pants he wore from the night before as he strode towards the window and leaned out of it, reaching into his inner pocket before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with just the tip of his finger.

I like her, he thought, putting the cigarette to his lips before taking a huff. Smart, resilient, tougher than I thought she would be. Hell, she even resisted my aura when I came onto her a bit.

He can still very clearly how your desire tasted, running hot and fresh through the thread he tied to you as the memory of it flooded his every vein just as it had the night before. Savory sweet with a dash of vanilla…it’s been a while since he’s been this satisfied over a single dose over one night, but now he wants more. Much, much more.

And what Damian wants, he fucking gets.

She’s good, I’ll give her that. He let out a puff of smoke, the gray ring seeming to circle him like a twisted halo until it dispersed and became one with the wind. But, she wasn’t good enough. He chuckled again, lightly tugging away at the loop he tied to your soul and letting out a laugh when he felt the magic inside the thread flicker wildly like a flame caught in the wind.

And with a wave of his hand and a whisper from his lips, the thread seemingly vanished into thin air. But he could still feel it - feel you -, full of a unexpected and deep-rooted lust and longing that would soon rear its ugly head.

Even if you didn’t know it, you were his now. His newest game, his new plaything, his new toy. His new nightly entertainment as he flooded your subconscious with a new arousing, needy dream every single night until you finally broke.

This should be interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~

‘’Did you watch the matches I sent you?’’ Drew asked me as he casually leaned against the ropes of his at-home wrestling ring.

It was a blessed day off after a grueling tour and we were happy to just be able to veg out and relax.

But in a couple more days we would be back at it, and I would have a number one contender’s match for the WWE Championship against Bobby.

Yeah… Bobby.

Plenty of people in the locker room didn’t bother hiding the fact that they thought that I had a literal death when I agreed to this match, what with our different sizes and gender.

And I almost hated myself because the closer the match got, the louder their comments became in my head.

So, naturally, I thought it would be a good idea to ask someone for advice.

Someone who had already been in the ring with Bobby and had beaten him…

Ignoring the fact that between Drew and me there was also a massive difference, I thought it still couldn’t hurt.

My eyes couldn’t help but roam hungrily over the rippling muscles in his arms as he balanced himself on the ropes.

I think this was a bad idea.

It took me a couple seconds to register Drew’s question and embarrassingly I blurted out.

‘’Yes, Si- I did.’’ I stuttered, my face heating up in embarrassment at what I almost called him.

I could tell that Drew hadn’t missed it and suddenly I couldn’t meet his eyes.

‘’Stand right here.’’ Drew suddenly said, positioning me with my back facing him.

‘’Let’s see if you paid attention.’’ He muttered in my ear, and unless I was imagining things, his voice sounded a little… husky. His Scottish accent a little thicker.

Well, fuck.

Trying to ignore the sudden flame of arousal burning between my legs, I tried to brace myself for what was coming next.

In a matter of seconds, Drew had me in Bobby’s ‘’Hurt Lock’’ and I was practically flopping around like a fish until I successfully got myself out of it.

‘’Nice!’’ Drew praised, and I couldn’t help but smile wide in response.

Coming from him, any kind of positive feedback meant a lot to me.

‘’Told ya! I do pay attention.’’ I replied, my tone getting lower as I realized how close he was standing.

‘’You’re definitely a great student,’’ Drew chuckled, looking down at me with those beautiful, crystal-blue eyes of his.

‘’Well, that’s only because I have a great teacher!’’ I quipped back a little breathlessly.

Almost as if I hadn’t noticed before, I gawked slightly at how he towered over me like the sexiest tree I had ever seen.

The sight alone had me hyperaware of the developing heat between my legs once again.

I was now backed up against the ring ropes as Drew turned us, both of us still panting softly after our small scuffle just a few seconds earlier.

Before we could question the sudden shift in the room, and as if we read each other’s minds, we brought our lips together into a hungry kiss.

Feeling his bulging muscles underneath my fingertips and his tongue against mine, I suddenly couldn’t even think anymore.

And when he gathered my hair into his fist and pulled at it lightly, as if testing the waters, I was gone completely.

‘’What was it that you were going to call me, love?’’ Drew asked between kissing along my neck and cupping one of my breasts in his free hand.

‘’S-Sir?’’ I replied in a timid voice.

I thought of lying to him and playing dumb but, I figured if the opportunity was presenting itself, I wouldn’t dare waste it.

Apparently, I had made the right call because I heard him let out a low growl of approval from deep within his chest and I honest to God had no idea how the hell I was still standing.

My knees threatened to buckle at the sound before I quickly caught myself with one hand against the ropes.

‘’Keep calling me that, yeah?’’ Drew replied in a hoarse voice bathed in primal need.

I let out an embarrassingly high-pitched whine, but it only seemed to encourage him.

‘’Yes, Sir.’’ I replied.

Once our clothes were discarded haphazardly, Drew ordered me to jump, wrap my legs around his waist and hold onto the rope behind me.

I didn’t know what he had in mind until he used his brute strength to lift my legs onto his shoulders and he began to lap at my wet center.

Letting out a harsh curse at the sudden pleasure that overtook my body, I felt my arms beginning to shake, but I held on.

Drew kept a firm hold on me as his tongue continued its lazy strokes over my wet folds, alternating between them and my clit.

My hips began to swivel on their own accord, but he didn’t scold me for it.

I kept my eyes on him through it all, even as a powerful orgasm ripped through my body like a tumultuous wave.

All throughout my orgasm, his mouth never wavered, licking, and sucking at my most sensitive areas almost bringing tears to my eyes.

Deciding to give my arms a break, Drew moved us onto the mat, spreading me out over it and looking over my glistening body with hungry eyes.

I happily let his hands roam my body, arching into his touch when he paid special attention to my breasts, kneading them in his hands before pinching my sensitive nipples.

‘’Fuck me, Sir…’’ I moaned, this time without an ounce of embarrassment.

I wanted him inside me, and I wanted it now.

I was done being patient.

‘’Are you asking me or…’’ Drew trailed off and there was a harsh glint in his eye, almost as if he were warning me.

I was slightly confused until I got the hint…

‘’I’m sorry, Sir... will you please fuck me, Sir?’’ I amended, looking at him through my lashes.

Drew smiled, stroking my thighs almost lovingly.

‘’That’s better, love.’’ He praised.

And then he asked me something that made me freeze.

‘’Do you like being restrained?’’ he asked, tilting his head as I processed his question.

‘’Yes, Sir. I love it, actually.’’ I replied, the corners of my mouth lifting in a slight smirk.

‘’I figured as much,’’ Drew said, alluding to our earlier training session.

I clearly wasn’t hiding my attraction him as well as I thought I had, and he clearly got a kick out of it.

‘’Are you making fun of me, Sir?’’ I asked Drew in faux outrage, but he just grinned before his tongue traced lazy circles along one of my hardened nipples, rendering my thoughts into an incoherent mess again.

I felt Drew hum around my nipple before he pinned it between his teeth, making me gasp and arch into him.

He gave my other nipple the same treatment and then he pinned my hands above my head, keeping them in place with just one of his.

‘’I would never make fun of you, my darling,’’ Drew replied, but his eyes sparkled with mirth.

The feeling of lying there underneath him at his mercy, with only his large hand holding me in place, was euphoric.

There was no other way to put it.

The overwhelming feeling was only amplified the second he parted my legs and slowly entered me.

I shut my eyes tightly at the sensation and began to move my hips to speed things up.

‘’Is that okay?’’ Drew asked me, concern lacing his voice.

‘’I’m not- it’s good. So good. Faster, please Sir.’’ I moaned, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth.

Pleased with my manners, Drew granted my request, burying himself to the hilt inside of me before he pulled out and slammed back in again with a grunt.

My eyes fluttered shut again as he seemed to lose himself as much as I was.

‘’Look at me… What else do you enjoy?’’ Drew asked, letting out a curse as my walls gripped him.

I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

‘’I love being choked, Sir,’’ I replied, looking him right in the eyes and seeing an almost pained expression cross over them.

I expected this to be a dealbreaker, but I was pleasantly surprised when his free slowly slid over my quivering body and came to rest lightly over my throat, again as if he were testing the waters.

It was his turn to give me a smirk as the rhythm of his hips turned into something more powerful and he had me seeing stars.

And I knew I wasn’t even halfway done telling him all of the things I enjoyed…