(very vague smut, and for anyone worried about who tops who. don't worry. later chapters ensure that everyone is gonna get some.)
The kisses were sloppy, he felt so embarrassed. So much of his time was given to work than pleasure that the moment felt so much bigger than it actually was.
He was inexperienced, it was clear in his clumsy hold and flushed cheeks. When he went so far as to lick his lips the man gasped, he took the chance to slip in to hear the soldier moan in surprise.
He felt unsure. Sweat was beading at his forehead and although heat swirled in his gut, his stomach was twisted.
The soldier was trapped between him and the wall, it was perfect and a dark part of him wanted to continue but something was wrong. When drawing away for a breather he stared at the soldier: cheeks flushed and pupils dilated, he heaved in air much like he was but it was wrong. His eyes were trained on him like he was scared, a trace of uncertainty was there.
The man came somehow even closer to him, cupping his cheek softly and holding him. He came no further while the question hung there. He nodded, moving forwards to taste those lips.
There was such an innocence to him, even with the short time they've spoken he knew this man was good at heart. At first it was the hard and cold exterior of him that drew him in but it was his words that kept him there and his purity kept him from running. He was a fighter, no doubt. The way his body moved and shook told him everything but the way it writhed and clung to him was like a drug. He knew he was playing with fire but he couldn't help but draw closer.
He was on fire, the man's touch was like live coals on his skin and he needed more of it. Even when his gut twisted and those fingers delivered pain he could practically taste the pleasure. His throat tight like he was suffocating, it was addicting.
Another gasp escaped him and it became something of a melody when he drew further into him. The stretch of his neck left bare and inviting.
A tongue dipping into the crevasse of his collarbone caused him to whimper for his entire body shifted along with the motion. He felt so full. Spread open and vulnerable for the man to devour him. He yearned for a name to call out to, but he didn't know it. He began to feel foolish.
There was that look again. The soldier's face, despite the bliss that rocked him along with his cries there was an air to him that seem to have shifted. It was like the soldier couldn't express his feelings physically but rather breathe them out, a whisper of a cry.
He felt himself being lifted, arms curling beneath his skin to draw him closer to inferno. A hand cupping the back of his head while hips continued to move. Lustfully and equally graceful. "Castiel." He whispered, shocking him back to stare.
Blue eyes looked back at him, shredded to mere pleasure. Hands glided over him to clutch at his shoulder blades, the air shifted once more that both calmed his nerves and electrified them. Soon enough a hand rested on his own cheek, drawing him in.
He will never forget that kiss.
That was the moment he knew he wanted to keep this soldier for himself. Even if he didn't know it.
Kisses danced over his cheeks the morning after. For a moment he thought he was still dreaming but as he blinked the dust from his eyes it became clear his little fantasy was still here with him, in bed. A blanket was carelessly draped over their bodies with only the morning sunlight giving them light, he felt his cheeks grow red from their equal nakedness.
He smirked at the red filling his soldier's cheeks, for a grown man he can be quite cute. So when those eyes catch his he couldn't help but widen his smile with his greeting. Then the sappy morning began to crumble as the two talked.
Words were exchanged with an air of carelessness, both trying to arouse a laugh from the other. Kisses continued to pass between them that teased at the idea of there being more but neither jumped for the idea, just lazy kisses. When he told him he was leaving the village the man pouted almost comically. When the man asked where he was going he laughed.
"Anywhere that has people talking about Hunters. The King wants a Winchester's head and I am to deliver."
What irony it is that the soldier he wants to possess is the one perusing his death. It was possibly that little devil in his belly, the one that wanted to jump the soldier and stay in bed till sundown that kept him from slitting his throat.
The look on the man's face falls, no longer a glitter in his eyes but something of that from a feral creature. "I take it you're not fond of them." He mutters, raising a hand to the man to trace his furrowed brow. Hands come up to grasp his own, giving a kiss to his fingertips before drawing them away altogether.
"I am familiar with the name."
The goodbye felt short lived.
He missed the soldier Castiel, for what short time they had it shocked him how well he got under his skin.
He never caught his name.