Title: (Re)Making an Angel: Beautiful Like a Plasma Fire
Characters: Sam Winchester ♂, Castiel ♂, Kafziel (OC) ♂
Rating: E (L3 N4 S4 V0 D0)
Warnings: The internet is for…? Oh, yes. Porn. Also, blasphemy, absurdity, and references to past natural disasters
Notes: I’m pretty sure I promised y’all some porn. Tada! Porn. Weird porn. power-bottom!Cas and uncomfortable voyeur!Sam.
Chapter 5: Beautiful Like a Plasma Fire
"Tell me, Castiel." A hungry smile spread Kafziel’s lips.
A fluid stream of Enochian spilled out of Castiel’s parted lips, blending into the rhythm of his panting breaths. Kafziel looked smugly surprised at that answer, and slowly opened Castiel’s trousers, licking and nibbling at the flesh above the waistband, as he carefully slid the cloth away, leaving Castiel bare, at last. Castiel brought one leg up, to stroke Kafziel’s back with the sole of his foot, and the tall angel rubbed his close-cropped beard against the inside of Castiel’s thigh.
"I want you, Castiel." Kafziel’s lips pressed against the base of Castiel’s half-hard member. "I want you inside me. I want to feel you grinding me down into the bed, while I scream for you." He dragged his tongue along the length and caught the edge of Castiel’s foreskin in his teeth. "Maybe once you have grace to spare, we can try it. But, today, now—" Wrapping his lips around the tip, he sucked, licking between the foreskin and the head. As Castiel’s cock slipped from his lips, it was no longer only half-hard. "—I will put myself into you in any and every way you want me there," Kafziel promised, licking back down and darting his tongue under Castiel’s warm balls.
Castiel’s fingers tangled in Kafziel’s long, dark-brown hair, as he strung together Enochian words that rarely saw use in wards, spells, and the lists of instructions every angel received. Words included for completeness, not for practical use. The syllables ran together as his testicles draped across Kafziel’s nose, and the other angel’s hot, wet tongue traced the symbols for those words onto his perineum. His eyes nearly glowed, slivers of bright blue around gaping pupils, as he propped himself up on one elbow and growled what seemed to be a single word at the angel between his legs.
The response was immediate, Kafziel pulling those pale, slender legs up over his own shoulders, and then sliding his hands under Castiel’s firm buttocks, one barely-curved cheek in each hand. A raw sound tore out of Castiel, as Kafziel’s tongue worked into him. This was like nothing he could remember. His hands clutched at the sheets and at Kafziel’s hair.
The word Castiel kept repeating was Enochian, but Sam didn’t even need to look it up. There was only one thing that happened in that tone of voice. ‘More, more, more.’ He considered that, the next time anyone asked him to record a ritual, he would remember to bring a bag of ice to put between the laptop and his crotch, because the sweating and burning was not actually doing anything to deter the amazing boner painfully tangled in the leg of his boxer-briefs.
On the bed, the two angels continued their dance of tongues and fingers and forceful words. Kafziel tilted his hands in, bringing the tips of his pinkies together with the tip of his tongue, and pushed those fingers into Castiel, as his tongue curled against the rim, between them. Castiel’s hips jerked and rolled, trying to take more into himself. His breathing shifted from panting to long, breathy huffs, and his head tipped back. Kafziel breathed an expletive and pressed the bridge of his nose hard into the flesh just behind Castiel’s balls. He felt the slender fingers in his hair pull hard, and heard the aggreived sound of frustration from above him. He drew his fingers out, still licking in long, soothing strokes.
"Hurry." Castiel knew exactly what was happening, the intentions overriding the sensations all at once. "Put your penis inside me. Fill me with your grace."
It wasn’t the most romantic thing Kafziel had ever heard, but he realised he’d totally overrated the other angel’s resistance to pleasure. Single-handed, he opened his own trousers, writhing out of them and kicking them to the foot of the bed, as he raised his head as far as Castiel’s hand would allow.
"Reach down into that box and get the black bottle," Kafziel instructed, and Castiel complied, with an irritated look. "Do you want to put that on me, or should I?"
Castiel examined the bottle, before pouring a small amount of the thin, slick fluid into his hand, rubbing it across his fingers until he understood it. "What do I—?"
Kafziel grabbed Castiel’s hand, wrapping the slicked fingers around his own cock. Castiel’s eyebrows lifted in understanding, and he proceeded to drizzle more of the lube over the hot flesh in his hand, stroking it on, as if he’d never handled a penis before, which, to be fair, he hadn’t. Except his own, but that was dfferent. His fingers slid over the skin, circling the edge of the head under the foreskin, stroking the edges of the slit. Kafziel breathed slowly and deeply, watching Castiel’s fascination with his flesh.
"This is quite large. Are you sure it will fit?" Castiel asked, and across the room Sam blushed, knowing exactly what that was about. The problem with being six-foot-something-ridiculous and proportional, was that you were proportional. To yourself. And not really anybody else.
Kafziel pointed at Sam. "You carved runes into his living bones, and you’re asking me if this will fit? We’re angels. Even if it didn’t fit, it would fit. It’s still going to fit, the right way, though. I promise you that." He leaned forward, pressing Castiel back onto the bed. "Do you trust me?"
"In this." A cautious answer.
"Put your legs around my waist." Kafziel instructed, and Castiel did. A few more adjustments for comfort, and then Kafziel leaned down for a kiss. "Hold on to me tightly, with your arms and hands. Relax everything else."
Castiel tried to apply that, and all at once, he understood, as his tongue pressed into Kafziel’s mouth and Kafziel’s hips pushed forward. They came together with tantalizing lassitude, Kafziel pushing in, slow and hard, while Castiel’s tongue plundered his mouth, hands clawing at his shoulders and back. After a few inches, Kafziel broke the kiss.
"You need me to stop?"
"No! Don’t stop. You were right," Castiel panted. "It will fit. It will all fit."
Amusement dashed across Kafziel’s features, as he flexed just the right muscles to make his cock twitch. From the sound Castiel made, he’d timed that perfectly. As Castiel relaxed into the endorphin rush, Kafziel plunged in deeper, grinding as Castiel’s body tightened around him. Minutes dragged in a frenzy of pawing and grinding, Castiel alternating between rough, demanding kisses, and desperate sounds. Castiel’s body tightened, back arching, and Kafziel reached between them, wrapping his hand tightly around the base of Castiel’s cock.
"Just a little longer. Stay with me, beautiful. Just a little longer." Kafziel ground in, harder and deeper, eyes locked on Castiel’s sweat-slicked face. "Show me. Show me your face. Show me your wings."
His own wings unfurled, just inside the flames around them. As Castiel’s eyes went from a faint blue glow to the blue blaze of that last remnant of grace, Kafziel stopped choking off Castiel’s ejaculation with his knuckles and stroked the other angel’s abused cock, intently, licking Castiel’s tongue into his mouth as the air inside the circle blazed blue, and they both lost track of time and space.
It looked like a plasma fire, Sam thought, as his eyes closed, reflexively. He could hear Castiel screaming, but it sounded like the good kind of screaming, an incoherent stream of half-words and lurid sounds. As usual, he was thankful for the soundproofing that had gone into these walls. The last thing any of them wanted was Crowley getting curious, even if he was the only one who’d thought of that eventuality. As the light slid down toward bearable levels, Sam squinted at the burning circle, catching a flash of feathers and a swirl of blue smoke. And then, suddenly, it was just two naked men sprawled across each other, on a bed inside a ring of fire.
"Cas? You good?" Sam asked, stretching his legs and reaching for the fire extinguisher.
"I am good, Sam. I am very good. I think, right now, that I am amazing." The words sounded a little syrupy, slow and thick. "The Pizza Man could learn a lot from me."
"I think you’re amazing, too," Kafziel mumbled into the pillow above Castiel’s head. "Probably not in the way he’s asking."
Sam turned off the camera and started to put out the fire around the bed. "For the record, it’s visible from the outside. You remember Pamela Barnes? It’s that kind of visible. I just hope we didn’t trash the camera."
Castiel’s eyes rolled into focus and locked onto Sam’s face, around Kafziel’s shoulder. "Are you ok, Sam?"
"What? Yeah, I’m fine. I wasn’t looking. Putting that in the notes, though. Don’t want to accidentally burn anyone’s eyes out." Sam finished putting out the fire. "Do you feel more … I don’t know, like you, now?"
"Yes. This is an improvement. You should tell Dean to stop worrying. It’s very loud."
"Yeah, I will. Let me just get this gear out of here. Do you want me to put a devil’s trap down the hall, so you can get some sleep?"
"That will not be necessary. I do not believe Dean has any intention of seeing the inside of this room." Castiel made a small, satisfied sound and rubbed his foot against the back of Kafziel’s leg.
"I was a little more worried about Crowley," Sam admitted, sorting what needed to stay from what needed to go with him.
"Crowley’s too smart to open that door," Kafziel declared, stretching his wings. "Besides, we’re angels. We don’t sleep."
"That may be true, but given some of the things he’s tried… I’ll just put down some salt." Sam opened the door on Dean standing in the hall, and quickly shoved a large box into his hands. "Call me if you need anything, Cas!" With the camera in one hand and his laptop in the other, Sam herded Dean back down the hall, as the door swung shut.