Title: (Re)Making an Angel: Naming a New Scribe (4/?)
Characters: Sam Winchester ♂, Castiel ♂, Kafziel (OC) ♂
Rating: (L1 N1 S3 V0 D1)
Warnings: Blasphemy, dysfunctional family dynamics, angels snogging, voyeurism for SCIENCE!
Notes: Not. Quite. Porn. I know I said ‘slow burn’, but I swear I didn’t think it would be this slow. Holy shit. On the other hand, half-naked angels snogging. Can’t go wrong with that!
"It has been difficult to watch him, not being an angel," Castiel ground out. "The point is, I can perform sexually."
"But, can you be thrilled by it? Can you forget all the things you need to remember, and just enjoy it?" Kafziel asked.
"I don’t see why that would be difficult. Humans do it all the time." Castiel looked up to find Sam standing in the doorway, with a box under his arm.
"Am I interrupting?"
Kafziel reached into the box, finding the holy oil, immediately. "No, not at all. Actually, I need your help. We have to pull this bed away from the wall, and put a ring of holy oil around it."
"I’m sorry, you want me to make an angel trap?" Sam squinted at the large angel standing before him. "Around the bed you’re about to get laid in?"
"Just to stop the earthquakes and the rising of the waters. I can control myself. Usually. He’s not allowed to." Setting the oil on what seemed to be a desk, Kafziel grabbed one of the bedposts, but didn’t ask Castiel to get off the bed. "I’m not really allowed to, this time, either."
Sam set the box beside the bottle of oil and grabbed the opposing bed post. Together they moved the bed into a position in which they could circle it, once Castiel lifted his feet.
"The floor in here, this is concrete?" Kafziel asked. "I don’t want to burn the place down."
"Don’t worry about it. Angel traps are not the worst things that have been done to these floors. Trust me. I wish I hadn’t seen video." Sam picked up the oil and studied the lay of the room. "Have to make sure you end up with enough space for everything inside the circle."
Studiously, Sam circled the bed, counting his steps, eyeing the box, the two angels, and the other furniture. On the third pass, he tipped the bottle, drawing the circle. "That looks about right."
"It does," Kafziel replied, stepping out to get the box. "Castiel, I advise leaving at least some of your clothing outside the circle, if only so it doesn’t get knocked into the flame."
"When you and Gabriel—"
"We levelled the city of Damghan." Kafziel rubbed his face. "It was a terrible accident, but we didn’t know."
Sam paled and checked the line of oil again. "You’re sure this is enough to stop it?"
"It was enough the next time we tried. It was an extremely difficult several weeks of attempts, moreso for the unfortunate people around us. But, I learned. And I learned to protect them." Setting the box inside the circle, Kafziel sat on the edge of the bed, beside Castiel, and began to unlace his boots. "Sam, I’d like you to stay with us."
"What?" His instinct was to decline, but he wanted to hear the reason, first.
Castiel seemed to be on the same page. "Why would you want that? He can’t be involved."
"He doesn’t need to be involved. He’s one of the Men of Letters." Kafziel stood, peeling off his thin, white t-shirt, revealing lines of dark-blue Enochian and Arabic tattoos down his chest and sides.
The light went on in Sam’s head, and he breathed in sharply. "You want me to record this."
"I do. So many have fallen. So many are dead. If anything happens to me, this cannot be lost forever. As you have said, there are no more prophets."
Sam let the offer wash over him, let the reality of it sink into his pores. This angel, who looked more like the ancient interpretations than anything he’d seen recently, was asking him to record a ritual for the sake of posterity. He realised, then, that while Kafziel did not expect to outlast the current war, he believed humanity would make it, and that there would still be angels, regardless of the fate of heaven.
"Yes." The word slipped out of Sam’s mouth at the end of a breath. "Yeah, let me just get some things. Do you — do you want me to film this, or just write it down?"
Kafziel nudged Castiel to his feet, and gently convinced him out of the eternal brown coat. "Castiel? Do you wish this filmed?"
"Will the transition be visible?" Castiel asked, catching on and pulling off his own shoes.
"I recall it being beautiful, but I only saw it from the inside." Kafziel shrugged, in that way he had, the one that said he didn’t know everything.
"Sam? Film it. Please. I would like us to see it from the outside, as well." Castiel squeezed the other angel’s hand, gently. "By leaving this, perhaps we can atone."
"Perhaps you can atone," Kafziel laughed, as Sam left to get the equipment. "I’ve done my penance. But, I don’t think you have anything to atone for. You chose to break away from a rapidly degrading system, to stop the end of the world — the end of all of us. You’ve done more than I have. Gabriel, Hizkiel, and I just left because we were tired of the fighting. If He returns? You and I will be just fine. It’s Gabriel I worry about."
"Gabriel chose a questionable and treacherous path, but all the archangels did," Castiel pointed out, unbuttoning his shirt. "I wonder, does filming this mean I can tell Meg I have been in a porno film, if I see her again? Do you think it would be wrong of me to accept her offer?"
"Yes, I think you can tell her that. No, I don’t think it’s wrong. Do you like her? Do it. I do think you need to take Sam with you, and have him light you up a circle, though, so you don’t destroy an entire metropolitan area. I wouldn’t trust a demon with that, no matter how good looking she is." Kafziel stood and rested his hands on Castiel’s waist. "You are the first angel I have seen in a thousand years, and I can barely see you." He pressed his lips to Castiel’s forehead. "First your grace. Then your memory. It is a long time since I have danced the memoriam with another angel."
Kafziel’s hands moved up, and Castiel’s shirt fell away, as the smaller angel rolled his shoulders and let it go. "I do not know if I want my memory."
"You need it. It will not be easy, but it will not destroy you." A smile touched Kafziel’s lips. "Remember, I’ve been practicing on humans. They can’t take a beating like we can."
"Hey," Sam walked back in with both arms full of an assortment of things. "Cas, can you give me a hand real quick?"
As they set up the laptop and the camera, Sam continued to ramble on about the extras he’d brought in. Lube, a towel, some water, the ever-essential fire extinguisher, the leftovers from lunch, since none of them had managed to eat more than a few bites. Finally, after a few tests for camera placement, they were ready.
Sam pulled Castiel into a quick hug. "Anything goes wrong, you decide you want out? You tell me, Cas. I’ll get you out."
"If anything goes wrong, we’re all going to die, Sam. The last thing you want to do is open that circle, before it’s over." Castiel returned the hug, and then stepped back over the line. "We’re ready. Thank you."
Nodding, more to reassure himself than them, Sam lit a match and dropped it into the oil, watching the low flames race around the bed. He checked that the camera was recording, and sat down on the floor, with a pillow and his laptop. Every detail, he promised himself. The technical aspects of all of it.
Kafziel tilted Castiel’s chin up with one finger, and kissed him, cautiously. "Show me what you like."
Having only been with a woman, Castiel stared intently for several moments, trying to translate his experience into something useful. With one hand, he caressed Kafziel’s chest, tracing the tattoos with one finger, whispering the words under his breath. And then, he looked up, determined, and returned the kiss with surprising vehemence.
As their tongues met, Kafziel twisted to hook his forearm under Castiel’s skinny ass, and haul the smaller angel the last few inches up, along his thigh. Castiel gasped, clutching his brother’s shoulders for balance. As one of Kafziel’s hands wandered his back, Castiel began to recite, quietly, against the corner of Kafziel’s jaw, the words interspersed with kisses, from behind the ear, down the neck, along the collarbone. He had recognised that one of the tattoos was not a ward; rather, it was the first line of a love poem composed by an Elamite priestess for the celestial creature she’d fallen in love with. The angel, he recalled, had been destroyed, once the mission was complete, and before the affection could be returned. But, he knew it. All of it. And apparently Kafziel did, too, the second voice joining his, between small, sharp bites along his shoulder. All at once, they had the same thought, turning their faces back to one another, and smacking noses on the way in for another kiss, breathing the words into each other’s mouths, between quiet huffs of amusement.
"Would you like me to do that to you?" Kafziel asked, after one line.
"I believe that requires other anatomical arrangements," Castiel protested.
"I’m creative. We’ll make it work."
Kafziel began to squat, slowly, reaching for the box beside the bed, and Castiel’s legs wound around him, one around his hip and the other between his legs and around his thigh. As he lifted a bag of… something out of the box with two fingers, he rolled the muscle in his thigh, and felt Castiel’s fingers suddenly dig in to his chest and shoulder.
"Good, bad, or worried about falling off?" Kafziel asked, examining the bag, and then giving Sam the eyebrows of ‘Oh, really’, as he realised it contained a particular ginseng and ginger sweets purported to have aphrodisiac effects. And that the bag was already open.
Sam shrugged and stared back in faux-incomprehension, hoping he’d gotten better at that look, since the last time he tried to use it on Dean. And… no. The return look was abject, canted-eyebrow disbelief.
In the mean time, Castiel answered the question. "Falling off."
"Right. Off my leg and onto the bed." Kafziel turned to make that a simpler proposition, and Castiel lowered himself to the sheets. "You need to relax. Stop thinking so hard about what’s outside this circle. It’s just you and me, in here. That’s all that matters."
Castiel opened his mouth to answer, and his brother filled the space with a ginger sweet. "Breathe through your nose. Feel the ginger moving through you. Taste it in your mouth, breathe past it, feel that air touch your lungs. Breathe it out, and feel that move through your nose, behind your eyes. Feel this body, Castiel. Pretend it belongs to you, because right now, it does."
Kafziel knelt down onto the bed, positioning himself behind Castiel. His thumbs traced the smaller angel’s shoulders, and he began to cautiously knead the flesh. As his warm, sure hands moved down Castiel’s back, he began to recite, again, this time in Hebrew. Across the room, Sam turned colours, as he recognised the text. Castiel’s head tilted back to rest against Kafziel’s chest, his breaths slow and deep, as he tried to appreciate the ginger and his vessel. As Kafziel’s thumbs pressed in, where his hips met his spine, Castiel groaned, slow and low.
"There. That. I like it," Castiel murmured, breathing out the scent of ginger, which he then breathed back in, a very different sensation to only feeling it in the back of his throat. His breathing shifted, in through the nose and out through the mouth, to let him better take the sharp flavour through his head.
Kafziel curled his fingers around Castiel’s hips, adding a little bit of tension as he worked his thumbs into Castiel’s back. The change in Castiel’s breathing was immediate, his slightly arched chest rising and falling more quickly. Kafziel continued to recite his favourite verses of erotic poetry, agaist the back of Castiel’s ear, rubbing his cheek against the smaller angel’s short, dark hair, dragging his tongue along the curve of that swiftly-blushing ear, between lines.
"Yes, yes, yes," Castiel chanted, quietly, as his body began to relax in Kafziel’s hands.
The sounds from Castiel grew more lurid as Kafziel’s hands began to wander, again, kneading the tension out of Castiel’s too-thin body. Sounds Sam had never imagined hearing except out of his own mouth, and those he preferred to forget, because that’s the kind of distraction that gets a man killed. It was like watching Castiel melt, behind the flames between them.
"Tell me what you want," Kafziel tried again.
"Kiss me," Castiel replied, his hands moving out of his lap, fingers digging into Kafziel’s thighs.
As Kafziel’s arms slid around him, the taller angel leaning over his shoulder to lick the ginger from his lips, Castiel could finally feel that stirring in the bowl of his hips, the warm swirl he remembered from the last time. He pressed the remains of the ginger sweet against Kafziel’s lips, and felt the world spin as Kafziel sucked it off his tongue, brilliant flickers of warmth accompanying each tongue on tongue caress, as Kafziel licked the burning flavour into submission.
"Lie with me, beautiful angel." Kafziel twisted himself, easily, lying on his side and pulling Castiel with him, so the smaller angel’s back met the bed.
"I’m not—" Castiel started.
"Do you think I don’t remember? I can still see you. You’re just faded, not gone." Kafziel’s fingers traced down the middle of Castiel’s chest. "Will you let me touch you? Do you want my hands on your skin?"
"Touch me." It wasn’t a request. As one warm, broad palm spread over his chest, Castiel reached for Kafziel’s face, pulling him down into another kiss.
Sam felt the sweat trickle down behind his ear, as he watched the angels writhe together, Kafziel’s huge hands stroking and caressing Castiel’s moon-pale skin; Castiel’s hands curled into demanding claws, wringing and scrabbling at Kafziel’s shoulders. Finally, the kiss parted, and after a long look into the wide-blown blue eyes beneath him, Kafziel began to kiss his way down Castiel’s neck. A brief detour along the collarbone, and then his lips chased down that narrow chest, across the concavity of Castiel’s belly. Finally, his teeth caught on the button of Castiel’s trousers, and he tugged teasingly, before rubbing his cheek against the fly.
"Tell me, Castiel." A hungry smile spread Kafziel’s lips.