[Fic] The Angel of Thursday
Nov. 4th, 2008 09:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: The Angel of Thursday Part 4: Surprise
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Ruby/Castiel
Word Count: 5,260+
Rating: R
Summary: Entirely a justification for one of the most unlikely pairings ever.
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5
By the time it got to the bed he had justified it all sorts of ways. If he was damned to Fall already, he would have been for having interactions with a demon, let alone this. For his doubts, not for this single act. If he were not, if he was to be forgiven, then he was already, for with what she was doing to him he still had not lusted in his heart, or at least he didn't think so. There was a need for companionship in this lonely, exiled task. There was a need to be with someone who knew what he was and made no demands, there was a need simply to put aside the burden for a little while. All of these justifications and the doubts just kept crawling through his mind. Nothing made it any better.
Nothing convinced him to stop, either.
She didn't rush, which might have put him off. She seduced. She kissed him for a long time before moving any further, slowly relaxing against him, slowly enabling him to relax as the kiss went on and there was no sense of forbidding or damnation. Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt where it buttoned at the top and rather than unbutton it she simply left it there, clinging to him. His fingers combed through her hair in a weak attempt to give comfort.
It seemed weak, but he must not have been doing that badly. She pressed into him further and he was surprised at how warm she felt, her arms wrapped around him, enfolded in his arms against this body. A body that he could feel responding to the fact that it had a warm, vibrant woman pressed against it. Castiel wasn't stupid, no matter how much his inexperience with human etiquette may have seemed like it, nor was he ignorant as to the ways of a man with a woman. It hadn't applied before, but he knew how it worked.
Her fingers uncurled in his shirt and began to undo the buttons, one by one. His breath caught and his mind froze and didn't start functioning again until she had reached his waist and was sliding her hand between layers of fabric, close enough that he could feel the ragged edges of two fingernails where she must have been biting them. It seemed like a strange habit for someone so poised, biting nails. And then she bit at the lower curve of his neck and all thought ceased, again. He didn't know how to communicate through the sensations, how to make himself move away from her or stop touching her. Or tell her that this wasn't right, they shouldn't be doing this. He didn't even know if he wanted to, but this was more than he had expected.
But not, he was starting to realize, more than he wanted. His fingers plucked at her jacket, easing it off her shoulders. She turned them and by the time he realized what she was doing he was being walked towards the bed, falling backwards onto it. Her astride his hips, touching his face. He expected her to be smiling, somehow, but she wasn't.
So be it.
Ruby didn't realize what he was up to until her bra straps were sliding forward on her shoulders, and she had to shift quick to take it off under her shirt before it became too uncomfortable. She gave him a slightly incredulous look as she did so, a look he wasn't much paying attention to since the way she had shifted meant his body was paying attention to other things. Like how she fit against him.
"I thought..."
Time froze for a moment. Speaking jarred the mood, any more words and it might shatter and leave them both torn to shreds because of it. He found himself reaching up and tugging her down against him to stop her words with a kiss. He didn't know why or how he'd thought of it.
It seemed to work, though. She stopped trying to reason with it, with him, or with her own conscience and kissed him back, tugging his undershirt up until he managed to wriggle out of it with only a shred of guilt for what he was about to do. She reached down to tug her blouse up and off and
"No..." he whispered.
She sat up, stung, and he sat up with her, and the hurt on her face transformed to wonder that was still touched with confusion and something like fear. He kissed her throat, the small hollow there, kissed down between her breasts, unbuttoning her shirt. Kissed every inch of flesh uncovered with all due reverence for a body given grace and beauty by his Father and a spirit with a grace and a strength all her own. First her cries were of surprise. Then of pleasure. He reached one hand out and pulled her more securely onto his lap, and her hand slid down to cup his face along the line of his jaw and pull his mouth back up to hers. This time it was all pleasures of the flesh, drunk in low-frequency, thick, smoky-hot pleasure.
He rolled her as they came back down to the bed again, kissing his way lower, curious at least now that he had committed himself to this action what it would be like. She started to say something again but this time she didn't even get as far as words before his fingers were on the button of her jeans, rolling them down her hips. Her underwear was black satin, but he didn't know what that meant.
"What..." she did start to say, and then his tongue swept over her clit and she didn't say anything, just moaned. He made note of that reaction, and the next minute or two were an interesting study in trial and error. Some places he touched, fingers and tongue, the way it was supposed to work, made her shift and whimper more than others. He thought they were good sounds, good responses. Her fingers curled tight in his hair, her hips bucked. It took him a moment to recognize.
There was another look in her eyes when she reached down, slid her hand down his arm until he was cued to reach up and take her hand, and then she tugged him up to meet her. He was still trying to figure out what this was as she undid his trousers, and thought he had it right before her fingertips brushed up the length of... his mind stuttered around the possible words. Or his mind had stuttered, regardless. He knew what she meant him to do but ... he had never done this before. And now he was blushing. She laughed. It was a strange, delighted sound.
Pity, that was what it was. Pity and affection and curiosity. And something else. Something more timid but still there.
He put that aside to discover later, closing his eyes, kissing her, let her guide him. Letting her smile at his moment of nervousness before he entered her. Letting her shift underneath him until the new angle of her hips to his, the way her legs wrapped around him drove his thoughts further down. They were still kissing. Her lips were soft, wet. The room had long since ceased to matter but somehow the air around them was heated and wet, too. Everything fell into place about a great many things, little nuances of interaction that had passed him by over the years that deepened and took on life and now he saw why touches mattered, when he wanted to touch her every way possible so much more in this moment than he had felt even minutes ago. When she clutched at him with increasing urgency.
He thought he might have cried out, that first rush of relief and release. He knew she did, softer, not his name but someone else's. Someone she remembered. He would have minded if he'd known he should, but all that mattered was that they were both secure, sated (and how exhausted did he feel now, after everything!) and breathing hard and he moved away enough from her so that he didn't collapse on top of her. She clutched at him, though, and he wound up with her in his arms, pressed against him, now feeling the full length of her body curled into his.
He realized he was crying. After a moment, and with even more surprise, he realized she was, too.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Ruby/Castiel
Word Count: 5,260+
Rating: R
Summary: Entirely a justification for one of the most unlikely pairings ever.
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5
By the time it got to the bed he had justified it all sorts of ways. If he was damned to Fall already, he would have been for having interactions with a demon, let alone this. For his doubts, not for this single act. If he were not, if he was to be forgiven, then he was already, for with what she was doing to him he still had not lusted in his heart, or at least he didn't think so. There was a need for companionship in this lonely, exiled task. There was a need to be with someone who knew what he was and made no demands, there was a need simply to put aside the burden for a little while. All of these justifications and the doubts just kept crawling through his mind. Nothing made it any better.
Nothing convinced him to stop, either.
She didn't rush, which might have put him off. She seduced. She kissed him for a long time before moving any further, slowly relaxing against him, slowly enabling him to relax as the kiss went on and there was no sense of forbidding or damnation. Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt where it buttoned at the top and rather than unbutton it she simply left it there, clinging to him. His fingers combed through her hair in a weak attempt to give comfort.
It seemed weak, but he must not have been doing that badly. She pressed into him further and he was surprised at how warm she felt, her arms wrapped around him, enfolded in his arms against this body. A body that he could feel responding to the fact that it had a warm, vibrant woman pressed against it. Castiel wasn't stupid, no matter how much his inexperience with human etiquette may have seemed like it, nor was he ignorant as to the ways of a man with a woman. It hadn't applied before, but he knew how it worked.
Her fingers uncurled in his shirt and began to undo the buttons, one by one. His breath caught and his mind froze and didn't start functioning again until she had reached his waist and was sliding her hand between layers of fabric, close enough that he could feel the ragged edges of two fingernails where she must have been biting them. It seemed like a strange habit for someone so poised, biting nails. And then she bit at the lower curve of his neck and all thought ceased, again. He didn't know how to communicate through the sensations, how to make himself move away from her or stop touching her. Or tell her that this wasn't right, they shouldn't be doing this. He didn't even know if he wanted to, but this was more than he had expected.
But not, he was starting to realize, more than he wanted. His fingers plucked at her jacket, easing it off her shoulders. She turned them and by the time he realized what she was doing he was being walked towards the bed, falling backwards onto it. Her astride his hips, touching his face. He expected her to be smiling, somehow, but she wasn't.
So be it.
Ruby didn't realize what he was up to until her bra straps were sliding forward on her shoulders, and she had to shift quick to take it off under her shirt before it became too uncomfortable. She gave him a slightly incredulous look as she did so, a look he wasn't much paying attention to since the way she had shifted meant his body was paying attention to other things. Like how she fit against him.
"I thought..."
Time froze for a moment. Speaking jarred the mood, any more words and it might shatter and leave them both torn to shreds because of it. He found himself reaching up and tugging her down against him to stop her words with a kiss. He didn't know why or how he'd thought of it.
It seemed to work, though. She stopped trying to reason with it, with him, or with her own conscience and kissed him back, tugging his undershirt up until he managed to wriggle out of it with only a shred of guilt for what he was about to do. She reached down to tug her blouse up and off and
"No..." he whispered.
She sat up, stung, and he sat up with her, and the hurt on her face transformed to wonder that was still touched with confusion and something like fear. He kissed her throat, the small hollow there, kissed down between her breasts, unbuttoning her shirt. Kissed every inch of flesh uncovered with all due reverence for a body given grace and beauty by his Father and a spirit with a grace and a strength all her own. First her cries were of surprise. Then of pleasure. He reached one hand out and pulled her more securely onto his lap, and her hand slid down to cup his face along the line of his jaw and pull his mouth back up to hers. This time it was all pleasures of the flesh, drunk in low-frequency, thick, smoky-hot pleasure.
He rolled her as they came back down to the bed again, kissing his way lower, curious at least now that he had committed himself to this action what it would be like. She started to say something again but this time she didn't even get as far as words before his fingers were on the button of her jeans, rolling them down her hips. Her underwear was black satin, but he didn't know what that meant.
"What..." she did start to say, and then his tongue swept over her clit and she didn't say anything, just moaned. He made note of that reaction, and the next minute or two were an interesting study in trial and error. Some places he touched, fingers and tongue, the way it was supposed to work, made her shift and whimper more than others. He thought they were good sounds, good responses. Her fingers curled tight in his hair, her hips bucked. It took him a moment to recognize.
There was another look in her eyes when she reached down, slid her hand down his arm until he was cued to reach up and take her hand, and then she tugged him up to meet her. He was still trying to figure out what this was as she undid his trousers, and thought he had it right before her fingertips brushed up the length of... his mind stuttered around the possible words. Or his mind had stuttered, regardless. He knew what she meant him to do but ... he had never done this before. And now he was blushing. She laughed. It was a strange, delighted sound.
Pity, that was what it was. Pity and affection and curiosity. And something else. Something more timid but still there.
He put that aside to discover later, closing his eyes, kissing her, let her guide him. Letting her smile at his moment of nervousness before he entered her. Letting her shift underneath him until the new angle of her hips to his, the way her legs wrapped around him drove his thoughts further down. They were still kissing. Her lips were soft, wet. The room had long since ceased to matter but somehow the air around them was heated and wet, too. Everything fell into place about a great many things, little nuances of interaction that had passed him by over the years that deepened and took on life and now he saw why touches mattered, when he wanted to touch her every way possible so much more in this moment than he had felt even minutes ago. When she clutched at him with increasing urgency.
He thought he might have cried out, that first rush of relief and release. He knew she did, softer, not his name but someone else's. Someone she remembered. He would have minded if he'd known he should, but all that mattered was that they were both secure, sated (and how exhausted did he feel now, after everything!) and breathing hard and he moved away enough from her so that he didn't collapse on top of her. She clutched at him, though, and he wound up with her in his arms, pressed against him, now feeling the full length of her body curled into his.
He realized he was crying. After a moment, and with even more surprise, he realized she was, too.