A shower felt nice. Castiel let the warm water clean the dirt of his days wandering forests and meadows away. He liked the smell that his wanderings had left but he had needed something to do. At least he could focus on washing his hair rather than on Sam and Dean out there somewhere doing what he should be doing. When he finally got out, he wrapped a towel around his waist. He rubbed another one in his hair, making it all stand on end. He looked up and was met by another pair of dark brown eyes. He jumped and dropped the towel.
"H-how long have you been standing there?" he asked. She smiled mischievously.
"Depends on how uncomfortable you are."
"Very," he squeaked. She took a step closer and he whipped around to face her.
"Well then," she whispered with another step towards him, "I've been here for quite a while." He swallowed a lump in his throat and took a step backwards. The cold porcelain of the sink pressed into his back. She chuckled and stepped right up to him.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" she whispered. Her cold breath brushed his ear lightly and playfully, like tiny clouds dark clouds escaping her mouth. He tried to say something but the words couldn't get past the butterflies that had flown from his stomach up into his throat. Or maybe that was his heart he was swallowing. Something about her closeness made it hard for him to speak or think or even breath correctly. He knew she could see the terror in his eyes as, with a smirk, she traced a cold white finger across his collarbone. Her hand trailed down his neck to his chest and she looked up at him with a glint in her dark as night eyes. Slowly she began to walk away. He knew what she wanted, he also knew it was wrong. But his ability to think was impaired. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched her toward him with a needy ferocity. He didn't know what made him do it; whether it was the little bit of Lucifer he'd taken from Sam, coaxing him, begging him to give in to a little bit of sin. Or maybe it was some sort of need deep inside him; a need to feel something other than fear and insanity. Her mischievous smirk grew as she curled her arms around his neck. He pulled her close, arms around her waist and she jumped up on him. With her legs wrapped around his hips, he swung her around and set her on the sink. He began to trail his lips on her collarbone and she closed her eyes. His gentleness turned fierce and greedy as he kissed her neck. It felt strangely good to have her so close to him. For a moment he forgot his guilt as he nipped a bit of skin just above her breast. Her sudden gasp interrupted his fervent devouring and he pulled back. She looked at him with an impish glint in her eyes.
"Well Clarence," she said breathlessly, "I didn't think you had it in you." He frowned. Realization upon realization flooded him as he thought about what she was; what he was. He stumbled back and all expression disappeared from his face. His eyes became stern and serious.
"I should get dressed." He disappeared into the other room, leaving Meg perched on the sink wondering what she'd done wrong.