a/n: this takes place at Camp Chitaqua=5x04 (croats episode), please note that Castiel is Human and Claire is now older. Warning: Clairstiel=Claire/Castiel.
Meets the Eye
Claire was hesitant for a moment as Castiel settles down on top of her, their naked flesh together. But as Cas started to move, she noticed things again, things that had brought her here to his cabin in the first place.
This was not her father, not anymore at least. Cas and Jimmy don't even look the same anymore, not since Cas first took her father away, and even though he doesn't age and it had once been Jimmy's body.
Jimmy's eyes were a sky blue; full of laughter, joy and love. His hair was dark with a slight curl if it got long enough, hair that he combed and parted neatly. He had full lips that split when he smiled, always showing teeth. His voice was smooth and clear when he spoke, fluent hand gestures accompanying each word—as if he were afraid that if he didn't, his word would become lonely. His suits were neat and pressed; wrinkle free, and his tie were knotted properly, the diamond shape resting below the hallow of his throat, his collar was tucked in and his coat was cleaned weekly. His strides were long and his hips wove with every step. His palms were calloused, but his touch was gentle. Each and every morning he would shave, his chin clean and presentable. His eyes and expression were always open and polite—just like an open book, one that Claire loved to read. He was always there to help whenever he could, even if you were a stranger. And what Claire loved about him most was the fact that Jimmy had been a hands-on father that loved and would always cherish her.
But Castiel on the other hand, seemed like the complete and total opposite. His eyes seemed darker, like the ocean bottom. His hair was still dark, but unruly and unkempt; there was more length to so there was a slight curl at the ends. His lips were still full, though cracked and he never truly seemed to smile; only the corner of his lips would quirk—you would have only been able to notice it if you were looking close enough for it. His voice was low and scratchy, almost as if a frog had taken permanent residence in his throat—no hand gestures to put emphasis on his words. His clothes were wrinkled and worn, the suits he wore were crumpled and worn, his tie hung loose and was cricked, his coat old and ratty. His chin was full of stubble and his hands were calloused but had a feather-light touch. His eyes were closed off, but still had a light curiosity to them, his gaze intense. He didn't seem to be real hands on, his posture and body language stiff—except for when he was having sex, Claire noted.
Cas was definitely not her father, not even close. Jimmy Novak was dead, her father was dead. But that wasn't what Claire wanted to focus on in this moment, not even close. She wanted to concentrate on what she was feeling in this moment, what it felt like to have Castiel inside of her. She had felt in once before, when she was thirteen, when Cas took possession of her—when she became his.
Ever since that day, she had never felt the same; was never able to fill the hole inside her soul until now. Having Cas this way wasn't the same, but she could still feel him, feel Cas' Angelic Grace—despite the fact that he was now Human. Her fingers grasped at the shoddy sheets beneath her naked body as Cas slowly thrust into her. It hurt at first, but then she started to feel the pleasure, the pleasure that was Castiel.
He was close to the edge; she could tell by the way he rested most of his weight on her. Her nipples rubbed honestly against the smooth skin of his chest, and his thrusts were becoming more frantic instead of controlled. She was close too, coming when he did as he buried himself balls deep inside her.
He wasn't her father as he collapsed on top of her, his breath hot against her throat. He wasn't her father as he suckled the sensitive skin on her neck. He wasn't her father when he rolled them over so that he was on his back, and she was snuggled next to him, her naked body fitting into the curve of his perfectly as if they were meant to be like this, her breasts pressed up against his side.
Her head rested on his chest and over his heart, her blond locks splayed across his bare shoulder, a leg thrown across his, his cock resting against her thigh. His arm was thrown across her shoulders, his hand lightly cupping her breast, his fingers tweaking her nipple. A shiver traveled through her body and in playful retaliation her tongue snaked out and lapped at his nipple. It hardened and unseen by Claire, the corner of Cas' lips quirked upward.
Her father was dead, and this body was no longer his. Claire knew that if you compared their blood, none of their markers would be the same. She had found her filler and what better way is there to have your flower taken away than by a Fallen Angel?