They'd gotten it a bit backwards, Kate thought. They'd moved in together long before they fell in love, and loved each other before they ever kissed. And loving Metatron was as easy as breathing, so simple and obvious that Kate thought she must have been doing it for months and months before she'd ever said it out loud. It was so utterly natural for her to curl up against him while he read, for him to press a kiss to the top of her head, that it baffled her that they hadn't done this sooner. That the two of them hadn't simply greeted each other one morning with a kiss instead of a nod, because surely that's where this had been heading all along.
But it wasn't so natural, Kate had to remind herself, because she was a human and he was an angel. And for the most part that didn't bother her. She would take as much or as little affection as Metatron was willing to give her, because she loved him and his presence was more than enough. But she wanted to know what he wanted from her. If he was content with this fond domestic sort of bliss they'd settled into, or if he wanted more.
Kate turned in bed and tucked her face into Metatron's shoulder. Metatron didn't need to sleep, and thus didn't sleep in Kate's bed, but on lazy mornings like this one he would sometimes join her under the blankets, content to hold her for an hour or so while she dozed.
"Metatron?" she said the name into his shirt.
"My love?" He called her that often, now, and with great satisfaction. When he first spoke the words he'd seemed almost surprised, like he'd never expected to be able to utter them, but over time he'd grown comfortable with them. The way he said it, with fondness and just a touch of his inherent flair for the dramatic, never failed to make Kate smile.
She turned in Metatron's embrace so she could look him in the eye, and he tilted his head to look at her. Kate chewed her lip as she wondered how to phrase her question.
Metatron narrowed his eyes at her. "I know that look. What is it?" Kate didn't speak immediately, and Metatron rolled his eyes. "Go on, spit it out."
"Give me a second! I'm trying to be delicate," Kate complained.
Metatron snorted. "When are you ever delicate?" Kate playfully smacked Metatron's arm, and he smiled crookedly at her.
"You know I love you," Kate began.
Metatron grimaced in exaggerated faux-fear. "Well now you're just scaring me."
Kate smacked him again. "Would you shut up for just a second? This is important."
"Fine, fine." Metatron schooled his face into something resembling serious, though his eyes still sparkled with amusement.
Kate sighed. "I love you," she repeated, "and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable when I ask this, because I'll be perfectly happy whether the answer is 'yes' or 'no' or 'eventually' or 'I have no idea', okay?"
Metatron really did look concerned now, though he obediently kept his mouth shut. Kate took a deep breath.
"Do you want to have sex with me?"
Metatron's eyes widened, then narrowed as he furrowed his brow at her. "That's it?"
"That's it." Metatron relaxed, and Kate relaxed with him. She waited for his response, admiring the way his hair stuck up at odd angles while he gathered himself.
"Yes."
Kate blinked in surprise at how little time that took. "Yes?"
"Yes," Metatron repeated, resolute. He kissed her then, hard. Metatron had kissed her passionately before, but not like this. Kate gasped and pulled away from his surprisingly skilled tongue when his hands rose to her shoulders and turned her on her back in the bed.
"I didn't mean right now," she said, though it was hard to focus on words because Metatron was sucking lightly at the skin where her neck met her shoulder. "I just meant—mmmnh." He'd fucking bit her, and it was wonderful, and he looked far too smug.
"What was that, my love?"
Kate felt a little silly asking, given how confident the angel looked leaning over her, but still, "Are you sure you're ready?"
Metatron didn't roll his eyes, but it seemed to take effort. "I want to." At Kate's skeptical look, he brushed a thumb over her cheek. "I want to feel you. Please, let me feel you."
She did. They kissed, and Metatron pressed into her eagerly. These weren't the clumsy, desperate, self-conscious kisses of a few weeks ago. These were hungry, and certain, and confident. Metatron's hands trailed down Kate's sides, and hers carded through his hair. He was between her legs, then, grinding down against her as one warm hand snuck under her sleep shirt and pinched a nipple.
Kate shuddered and pulled away from Metatron's mouth with a gasp. Metatron froze, for the first time looking concerned, self-conscious, and Kate almost whined.
"Don't stop," she complained, pushing back up so her breast pushed against Metatron's hand under her shirt.
Metatron's brows furrowed. "But you just—" He paused thoughtfully. Almost experimentally, he palmed her breast gently, then firmly, watching with rapt attention as Kate's eyes fluttered. "That was good?" He tweaked her nipple again, and Kate sighed. "This is good?" He did it again, smiling as Kate leaned into him eagerly.
"Mmn, yes. Metatron. I will tell you, with words, if I want you to stop." Kate informed him, pausing to sigh contentedly as his other hand snuck under her nightshirt and he squeezed both her breasts at once. "Sighs and moans are good. If I'm not coherent enough to form words, you're doing well."
Metatron paused, eyebrows raising at that pronouncement. "I'll have to try harder, then."
Kate huffed a laugh. In retaliation Metatron worked her shirt half-way off. Kate had been expecting him to finish pulling it off, but he left her stuck in the fabric with her arms part-way up. Kate huffed as the blankets rustled, and she tugged the shirt the rest of the way off to find Metatron shrugging off his shirt. She propped her head in her hand to watch him finish undressing, content.
Kate had never seen him unclothed before. There was something very human about seeing him without his clothes. She was so used to him in his thick cardigans, but now he stood before her, all pale skin and dark, curly hair, with his belly protruding and his hard, flushed cock listing slightly to the left. Kate hummed in satisfaction at the sight.
Metatron shot her a disbelieving look, then looked down at himself. "That hardly seems warranted."
"Agree to disagree."Kate held his eyes as she lifted her hips and shimmied out of her underwear, tossing the garment aside without a care as to wear it landed. They were equally bare, now, and Kate beckoned Metatron back to her, eager to press skin to skin.
Kate's hands in Metatron's hair, Metatron's tongue in her mouth, Metatron's hands—Metatron's hands—
"I thought you were a virgin," Kate rushed out, shuddering as Metatron's fingers far-too-expertly rubbed circles on her clit.
"I am," Metatron said, eyes light and smiling smugly, fingers not pausing once. Kate bucked against him, gasping, and he smiled crookedly, delighted at the response.
Liar. Not possible. "How—" She couldn't even finish the question. She had to squeeze her eyes shut and clutch at Metatron's shoulders, and when the wave passed and she stared at her lover, disbelieving, he smirked down at her.
"I read."
Kate opened her mouth to ask what the hell he'd been reading, but the words didn't come. She sighed, and moaned, and shook, and Metatron hid his smug face in her neck, licking and sucking and biting and oh—
"Okay!" Kate pushed at Metatron's hand insistently, trying to squirm away from his reach. "Okay, stop!"
Metatron paused, concerned. "Not good?"
Kate shook her head, pressing feverish kisses to whatever skin she could reach. Metatron's forearm, it seemed. Not particularly sexy, but Kate's brain wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders.
"Too good," she corrected belatedly. "Fuck. Too good." Metatron smiled crookedly as she gathered her breath. Kate pulled him into a kiss so she wouldn't have to watch his smug face any longer. Metatron's body pressed against her, his hard length hot against her thigh.
Kate stiffened and cursed, pulling away from the kiss. At Metatron's puzzled look, she explained, "I don't have any condoms."
Metatron gave her a dry look. "Well I'm a virgin, and you don't have to worry about getting pregnant, so unless you have something to tell me—"
"I don't?" Kate asked, puzzled.
Metatron tapped her forehead gently with two fingers. "Angel, my love."
"Right," Kate breathed, relieved. "Good. Come here." She pulled him close, reaching down with one hand to stroke Metatron's length a few times. His breath caught, eyes wide. Kate licked her lip as she guided the tip to her slick entrance. "Okay?"
Metatron swallowed heavily and nodded. "Yes." Kate let go of his cock and let herself sink down onto him, biting her lip to contain a moan. God, it had been too long. Metatron looked blindsided, astonished and overwhelmed, mouth working silently until finally he managed a soft, "Oh."
Kate caressed the stubble on Metatron's face and ran a hand through his hair as they adjusted, her to the first man she'd had in over a year, and him to the completely new sensation. "Okay?" she asked again.
Metatron nodded, still amazed, and leaned down to brush his lips against Kate's. "Oh, yes."
The response made Kate smile, and almost laugh, but then Metatron was moving inside her and words fled. She couldn't get enough of the feel of him inside her, the feel of her hands in his hair, her nails scraping at the skin of his shoulders. Turnabout being fairplay, Kate tucked her face into his neck and bit and sucked in a way she knew would leave bruises, and Metatron cursed as his hips bucked and his thighs shook. But then his hand was between Kate's legs again, and he seemed to know just the right spot, just the right pressure to undo her.
"What," Kate's voice was high and plaintive and needy, "the fuck have you been—ah, hmn—reading?!"
"Clearly not the right stuff," Metatron said, and how was he possibly still that articulate, he was a fucking virgin, it wasn't fair, "if you're still forming sentences." His fingers moved faster, and his lips found her pulse point, and Kate unraveled.
Her mouth moved and sound came out, but it wasn't words. If there were words, it was almost certainly begging, or thanks, but she could hardly tell, because all there was in the world was Metatron and her and sweet, sweet friction.
"Kate," Metatron said then. It might have been seconds, or it might have been minutes. What was time, anyway? "Kate," he said again, voice rising, hurried and self-conscious and warning. Kate tangled her hands in his hair and pulled his lips to hers to silence the warning.
"Yes," she said easily, meaning It's okay, I know, let go, it's fine, but all she could managed was, "Fuck, yes, Metatron, please—"
And it seemed that he understood, that it was all he needed, because he held her close and shuddered and gasped as he stilled inside her. They held still for a long moment, panting and sweaty and content, Metatron still buried between her legs.
After a moment, Metatron pulled away, falling beside Kate on the bed with a disbelieving laugh.
"What?" Kate demanded, tired and sated but not about to be laughed at without an explanation.
Metatron smiled at her, all crooked teeth and flushed cheeks and shining eyes. "So much art makes so much more sense now, that's all."
And Kate laughed, too, and twined their fingers together, and it was good.
"Metatron?"
Kate frowned into the mirror, fingering the ends of her hair. Today was her birthday, her eighth since she'd arrived in this universe, and she'd been letting her hair grow out for the most part since she'd arrived, trimming it only occasionally. It was quite long, now, curls falling all the way to her waist, and a dramatic change from the short, shoulder-length hair she'd arrived with.
But, she thought, peering into the mirror suspiciously, that seemed to be just about the only thing that had changed.
"Yes, my love?" Metatron leaned on the doorframe, watching her watch herself in the mirror with a slight smile. Even despite her suspicion, Kate felt her own lips quirk upwards at the sight of him.
"I'm 35 today," Kate said, catching his gaze in the mirror.
Metatron seemed a little puzzled that she would call him in here just to point it out, but said anyway, "Happy birthday, then."
"Yes, it is," she said agreeably. "But I was wondering if perhaps you could explain to me why I don't look a day over 30."
Metatron froze. Kate turned away from the mirror to face him head-on, arching an eyebrow as he looked away and mumbled something. "What was that?"
Metatron sighed and met her eyes, looking resigned. "28." Kate's eyebrows rose. Metatron rushed words out. "Now, before you get upset, I didn't lie to you. I just… failed to mention it."
"Failed to mention what, precisely?"
Metatron winced. "...Immortality."
"Immortality," Kate repeated, disbelieving, then, "28? When did you do this?"
Metatron shifted on his feet, but said eventually, "When we were preparing for the battle with Raphael. When you were angry with me." Metatron glanced away, seeming to be unable to bear the weight of her eyes. "I began to think you'd never forgive me in a whole lifetime, but I thought… maybe, if you had two lifetimes, or more…"
Kate felt her disapproving look soften. She crossed the room in a few steps, taking Metatron's hand in hers. Metatron finally looked at her, hopeful.
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my entire life," she told him fondly.
He shut his eyes and sighed, but nodded. He looped his arms around her, and Kate leaned into the warm embrace contentedly. "Even with all the time in the world and all the words ever written, I don't think I could ever fully express how much I need you."
Kate smiled into his chest. "You're an idiot."
"But I'm your idiot," Metatron said, pulling away and smiling crookedly at her.
"That you are."