The best way to describe a seraph would be to label him a creature of pure, relentless fire, all that burning glory that stretches out to four wings with eyes that watched you from the stem to the seemingly fireproof feathers that adorned his back. His eyes would shine like pure, white light and his hands were created to destroy anything and everything he touched.

The best way to describe a demon, however, would be her dark, soulless eyes. Her clawed hands and the blood that she thirsted for, the icy cold way she felt and the darkness she harbored inside herself that seemed to evolve into bitter power. She was made to serve and made to conquer.

When they both took bodies, however, angels by permission and demons by want; something hid away those beautiful forms behind human skin, human eyes restricting their glimpse into the world and reducing their hands to simple instruments of flesh and bone.

Though the angel would never consider himself a saint, he was torn on the label of sinner, feeling as though that could never suit a creature like himself. But over time he lost that conflict, the murders of his own family, humanity's assured destruction, this list seemed endless. His entire world had begun to collapse.

What seemed to be the only stable area in his life was the tricky demon, the way she smirked at him, eyed him up and down. How she touched him at night and how he returned that touch with increased eagerness and just a sprinkle of curiosity. He cared about her deeply, and as time went on he even considered calling it love.

Which was why he was looking down at her with that curious look, blue eyes scanning her face with an off amount of interest.

He could see her true face just under her skin, scarred and tortured and broken, and he found it so beautiful. He found himself tracing the scars of her vessel with his hands, his lips just inches from hers and his nose brushing her face.

"What's takin' so long, Clarence?" she asked him, amused at how intently he's been focused on her, how he'd been watching her for so long only just to now slightly move.

He shrugged, still so close. "I don't know."

He'd been like that often, not knowing what to do with himself around her, not knowing whether or not he'd be able to physically do anything around her. He felt her gaze, her eyes still waiting when he leaned down to kiss her, loving her taste and her smell, the tinge of sulphur deep in his nose.

He used to hate that smell, but because of her, he learned to love it.

He felt her tongue lash at him and her hands try and grab him, but he pulled away.

"Cas-"

"No," he whispered, waiting a few moments before kissing her again, his own hands keeping her down.

She wanted to bat him away, have her own way with him but the way he was purposely going slow over sparked an odd curiosity.

Castiel struggled a bit but eventually grabbed her face with both hands, Leaning her face against her, just gently pressing softly before kissing her again, Meg's arms scratching from his sides to the top of his back, nails digging deep into his vessel's skin. He felt her need roll off her and he simply dropped a hand from her face to lift himself off her, face just inches from hers, blue eyes blinking halfway at her.

She felt his cock hard against her but she ignored it, focusing on the angel's lips and the way he seemed intent on keeping himself away from her. She wanted so bad to rip him apart but Castiel kept her down, lips tasting her skin and eyes slammed shut.

"This…All you gonna do?" she breathed, feeling a moan vibrate from deep in his throat when he pulled away from her breasts. He eyed her with that soft glance he saved just for her and tilted his head.

"Why? you were expecting something else?"

"You're slow but you're never this slow."

"I enjoy taking my time."

"Obviously."

He blinked at her slowly. "I thought you would prefer it."

"Pregnant, Feathers, not a fragile little china plate."

"I don't want to harm her," he muttered, pressing his forehead against hers again. She felt his hand travel from her neck to her belly, trying to feel for any throb or beat of life.

"Well, aren't you just so cute?"

"I try to be."

Amused that he got her joke, she grabbed his chin and forced his head back down, watching him try and maneuver over her while they kissed. it brought a sort of calm and when she broke it off he looked at her with a slight glimmer in his half closed eyes.

"I love you," he repeated for about the hundredth time that night.

"Yeah, I know."