Feedback: Makes me happy, just play nice
Disclaimer: They belong to Kripke/McG/et al, and a bunch of other corporate-type ppl, in other words, not me.
Warnings/Squicks: yet more esoteric writing
Summary: What you don't know can't hurt you… or make you whole.
AN1: Castiel's POV
AN2: for the spn_teamfic prompt "Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." - Oscar Wilde
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Sometimes as I watch him, I find myself wondering if he knows or if he'd care that everything about him is laid bare before me. I have to laugh at my own thoughts then; of course he'd care. He puts too much effort into the disguise not to.
It wasn't always that way- my seeing everything about him, it took time before I could see him through his own eyes. Eyes that see with a sharpness and clarity few mortals experience.
A better question would be 'how much would he care?'. That even I can't answer. I know his deepest secrets, the desires that seep into his dreams, the basest fears that even the Pit barely touched, but I cannot begin to fathom this, however much I want to.
If I knew how much he'd care, I'd gladly take the risk. Risk losing my heart and myself for the love of this man.
He has a dream; it's of love and acceptance, of soft feather touches and the touch of soft feathers. It's of him and I, together as one. It used to scare him, this dream, whether because of my nature or his, I doubt either of us can be certain. Now, it no longer matters; the dreams no longer scare him. He welcomes them. I welcome them. He doesn't know that the deeper inside those dreams he hides, the louder they scream to me, the more intensely I feel them. These deep seeded dreams are the purest… and the clearest.
As he dreams, my lips begin to tingle- the barest brush of flesh on flesh. I close my eyes and let the sensations take me.
Warm lips press along my neck and collarbone, soft puffs of air that resemble my name tickle the skin- a benediction that I wish to offer him. His lips trail across my chest; tongue darting out to flick my nipples.
I moan, feeling wonderfully helpless against this onslaught.
He continues over my abdomen and down my hip, until his head rests beside the tight dark curls of my groin.
I feel the gentle strokes of his hand along my side, tickling my ribs. I smile; I want to pull him to me, to hold him in my arms, wrap my wings around him, make him feel me the way I feel him- return his touch and his love.
Slowly, I feel him nuzzle closer and closer to my throbbing erection. I swear my heart skips a beat when the moist heat of his mouth surrounds the head of my shaft.
He moans in pleasure, the sound as erotic in my ears as the vibration is on my flesh.
All I can do is feel as he takes me further into his mouth, sucking, licking, grazing my sensitive flesh with his teeth- making it all seem so real.
Soon, I'm convulsing, climaxing from his phantom touch. His name falls from my lips, begging- a need, primal in its origins, beyond the carnal desires of flesh and bone. My spirit, all that I am is his.
I open my eyes, unable to stay lost in his dream when I want so much more, and my wings are spread wide, vulnerable. His strong, tender fingers laced through my feathers, clinging to me and I do the only thing I can. I wrap him in my wings, caressing him with everything I feel, cradling him with all my love. My hands reach out for him, cupping his face, touching him for the first time the way I've longed to, basking in the gaze of intense jade eyes. And finally, finally, we kiss- real, tender and solid.
And the risk… immaterial compared to this, compared to the undisguised, open love we share.
