His scars were beautiful.
The burns had fleshed out to pink raises in his skin, tiny webbing of patchwork that covered his scar from a sigil he had carved into his chest a few years back.
She loved how he felt under her, how his fingertips traced over her skin and how his blue eyes barely peeked from his lids.
His hands were calloused, perhaps mixed with Jimmy and his own time as a human. He had a huge blemish on his abdomen from where Crowley had shot him and removed the tablet from inside his body. And his legs were cut immensely, branching out to broken toes and a crooked finger.
Damn, all of it was fucking hot.
Castiel had learned so much since they parted. He was quicker, more likely to fuck than make love to her. His thrusts were brutal and his face was pressed hard against her chest.
When she screamed he didn't back down, and when he got possessive he was wicked and harsh with her.
He dominated her with quicker ease than he ever did as an angel, and when he fucked her he left a lasting impression on her that almost reached days beyond weeks.
He was so rough that she would limp the next morning. She would wince as bruises cut into her legs and her wrists were red with his grasp.
"Fuck!" her thoughts were interrupted bu a sharp thrust, Castiel covering her mouth with his and licking her tongue quiet.
"Shhh," he silenced her; Castiel loved silence when they fuck, and the fact that he was loving her with brutal force was like a secret comforter for the pain. He didn't have his grace to sooth her anymore but he made up for it with human comfort.
She was stinking wet and Cas wasn't relenting a bit. His hands were all over her, groping and feeling her as she bit back a cry, Castiel moving from her neck to her collar bones.
They way he handled her was amazing. He still respected her, still admired her, even with all these scars and broken joints. He caressed her yet harmed her in a way she'd never felt the angel do before.
There was a huge buildup until he let her go. It was amazing how he dominated her with such ease, that side of him probably coming from either the angel or hunter inside him.
His breathing was just as ragged as hers when thy stopped, Castiel stretching out his back, his shoulders bunched and his voice letting out a soft moan.
He always stretched, as if he was afraid of losing that slight flexibility, or as if he was trying to scratch an itch on invisible, nonexistent wings.
"Well, then, Malprg pir," she said, his head tilting at her in surprise. "Zimz hoath."
"That's old Enochian…" Castiel marveled at her. "How did you-"
"It's called the internet, dumbass," she muttered. "I figured you'd appreciate that after fucking."
"I would prefer it if you didn't call it that."
She looked down at the burns, signing. "Whatever."
It didn't take long before they were back at it again, Castiel whispering in her ear and Meg returning with broken Enochian, the two of them attacking one another a second time.
He had work in the morning. She'd made him late about four times now. But to be honest, he didn't care. He liked it when she touched his scars, touched his face, and reminded him of everything.
