Silk
Warning: Slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural.
Pairing: Castiel/Harry
Word Count: 304 (only actual Drabble)
Silk
Harry didn't really know what he expected his first kiss to be like, although he certainly didn't envision it would be with a angel falling from grace at the age of nineteen (his 'wet' kiss with Cho not counting). But it certainly wasn't like anything that had been described to him by Hermione or Ginny when he came out as gay and they decided he was one of the 'girls', and thus bombarded him with tales and stories he really didn't want to hear before bugging him for some.
Castiel's lips weren't 'silky', or 'perfectly smooth' as Hermione had described her kisses with Ron as (which had freaked him out enough to avoid Ron for a few days, especially when Hermione spilled all the details on their love-making. Fuck, he couldn't look Ron in the eye for months after that) or as 'yummy' as Ginny had described them as.
His lips were warm, slightly chapped and moist and tasteless, well, until tongue somehow got involved and then it tasted purely like the angel. He had no way to describe it besides tasting purely of Castiel.
Castiel had no idea what he was doing, even less then Harry who at least had Hermione's and Ginny instruction. No, scratch that, the angel had advice from Dean, Harry thought slightly amused, if the hand slipping down to his ass said anything.
Someone wolf whistled behind them (Dean) before someone (Sam) quickly muffled the sound, although Harry could feel the grin being sent his way by his friend.
It hadn't been the way he expected his first (real) kiss: with an angel falling from grace on the battle field which the apocalypse had happened, and had been prevented on, both of them bleeding and their clothes torn, just lucky to be alive.
But Harry could definitely say he'd never forget it.