If Castiel had a favorite time, it would probably be now. Mostly because as the pain ebbed from his abdomen and groin, it quickly warmed to a heated pleasure.

Relaxed on his stomach with the motel room sheets barely covering his lower back, he sighed as he felt the usually tense muscles of his vessel relax under his skin.

He also loved this time because he could sleep. When he was drained, sleeping brought a slow pleasure as a veil of unconsciousness covered him like a warm blanket. Though he never dreamed during this time, he had often wondered what it was like. He'd visited human dreams before but never had any of his own. It was another puzzling thing to add to the things he didn't understand about humans.

He drew a sharp breath as he felt the demon resting atop him squirm, almost jerking her fingers that she had delicately twined with his.

"You keep moving," he muttered, almost surprised at how much more raspy his voice was than usual. Meg had that effect.

"Wouldn't have to if you'd stop your fucking sighing," it was how their nights together usually went. A long night of mating and blasphemy to the both of them tired almost to exhaustion. Castiel sometimes wondered how she was always able to drain him, but it seemed to be clearer now that he figured his power still hadn't fully come back since his break from Purgatory, as well as his siege to save her from Crowley's grasp in Hell.

But the times when he felt rejuvenated and powerful were always after their nights together. And even thought sex proved little to ease his mind, it did help with the hole he felt deep in his vessel's heart.

"Knock it off!" he was used to her swatting him now, and although he was too tired to heal the bright red marks she left on his skin, he felt secure as she adjusted herself on his back and ran her arms down to meet his hands. 'You're like a fucking five year old."

He ignored her and buried his nose into the bend of his inner elbow, closing his eyes and relaxing again.

"You worry too much on comfort," he muttered as her blonde hair spilled over his face.

"And you're trying to sleep so you can heal up for Frick and Frack," she growled in his ear. "Don't think I don't know what you do after we split."

"Is that a problem?"

"It is when you make me smell like a fucking flower," he understood her frustration on that end. It was only a few weeks ago when his instincts turned primal and the only words that he could hear were the old enochian "hoath", which of course confused him and ate at him raw until he discovered the cause for his discomfort.

He had been on edge for several weeks, mostly to do with his own occasional horniness and the fact that he felt like a rabid dog. Dean was no help in solving his issue, only suggesting he go and watch a DVD (which, to Castiel's surprise, starred his late brother Gabriel, and was no help to the situation but only to make Cas more frustrated and confused), and when he consulted his sister, Anael, an angel of sex and passion, she only went on to discuss human needs for mating and companionship. And so when it came time to meet with Meg, a thrill and drive shot through him and he soon discovered the cause of his discomfort and frustration.

Which lead to him referring to their sex time as "mating". Meg of course hated the term, but she enjoyed that he would often cut his time away from Sam and Dean to please her, which she assumed made everything a little bit better.

If she wasn't fucking a giant bird man with the libido of a fifteen year old with his first porno mag.

And so when they finished, they resulted to sleeping with each other for a while, mostly to calm Cas's fuck rage (which it pleased Meg that the whole angel 'pon farr' was almost over), and to give Meg a place to hide out for a few more hours before she went back out to kick Crowley a new one.

"Meg," Castiel muttered as he stretched his legs.

"What?"

"Are you tired?" No, no way he was fucking asking her for another go. But then again…

"You I think look like I'm tired?"

"I can't see you."

She huffed, blowing a blonde curl in front of her face before sitting up on his ass. "Think, dumbass. Yeah, I could go another round. If you're asking nice-"

She never finished her sentence as Castiel flew out from under her and shoved her hard on the backside of the bed, his lips hungrily devouring hers and his blue eyes drinking in her image of surprise.

She didn't remember the last time he surprised her like this, but she eagerly took what he gave her and moaned as he moved like a serpent over her body.

For a giant pigeon, he moved like a cheetah.

Gasping loud as he slid himself into her, no warning, no slight of hand, and played her tongue with his like it was a toy.

Sometimes she liked it when he took charge, mostly because he tired faster than she did and he was easy to manipulate.

As they rocked together, the sound of streetlights popping and the angry screams of a drunk in the next room signaled that his grace cut the power again, an odd side effect of the drive his grace sent him into.

"Damn," Meg breathed as he forced her hard, biting and nibbling her neck with sharp, human teeth.

"Hush," his order was quiet, a voice he shot threw her mind as he rammed against her. She wondered where the sudden energy came from, and when the dark, translucent outlines of black feathers formed from his back, she understood.

Hoath.

The wings were probably brighter than she ever saw on him awake, mostly he only let them showed when he was either asleep or about to destroy one of Crowley's compounds. The wings shown bright black with shimmers of purple and green, and if Meg didn't know they were in the colors of mating (or if she wasn't a demon), she would have thought them beautiful.

When he let her climaxed she screamed with a mix of pain and pleasure, and reveled at how the angel leaned over her, his eyes glowing and his wings spread like an eagle ready to take flight.

"Holy fuck, Clarence."

He stared at her for a few moments, the glow of his eyes turning their motel room shades of blue and white, and resumed to kissing her, much softer than before, his hands running up her arms to run his fingers through hers.

"In hoath," he muttered, the enochian on his tongue like fire to her ears. "Io-Iad."

She wasn't paying attention to him, she was still overwhelmed by the fierceness and haste he had just displayed. "Damn, if only Deano could see you now."

"Why would he want to watch us mate?" he asked, the glow in his eyes slowly dimming. "I would prefer it if he didn't."

"Cas, you're lucky you're pretty, because sometimes you're the dumbest bitch," she replied with an amused twinkle. "Though I wouldn't doubt it if you've already shown him the goods."

He blinked. "I save my hoath for you."

"What, is 'hoath' angel gibberish for 'penis'"

He tilted his head down at her, siding from her stomach to sit on his caves. "It's angel for love."

"Dear Satan take me now, I'm going to puke."

"I would prefer if we didn't refer to my brothers in bed."

"Jesus Christ."

"That makes me uncomfortable too."

With a tired sigh, she pushed herself up on her tired thighs and forced Cas down hard on the mattress, his back bouncing slightly. "Just shut the fuck up," she muttered as she crawled over his chest and nestled under his chin. "I feel like I have a feather up my ass."

He replied by wrapping an arm around her, and sending his other one behind his head to find her hand under the pillow.

And they laid there the night through, occasionally waking to deliver soft kisses to each other's lips, and attempting to fix the lights they destroyed the night before.