Chapter 7: Collected

It was in the early hours of the morning when Dean dragged his weakened, half-dead looking brother into the bat cave and Meg met him in the library, having come out from the room she had settled Castiel in for the night. Unsolicited, she stepped to Dean's aid, grabbing Sam's free arm so they could haul the tall man into his room. "What happened?"

"Sam didn't listen to me," Dean grunted even tough he made sure he was gentle when handling Sam and depositing him on the bed, "he started the last trial despite the warning while I was distracted by the falling angels. Cas?" The hunter changed roles and became the one eager for an update.

"I can feel a little bit of grace flickering inside of him, but it's not much more than what a soul would look like," Meg said evenly, as if not affected. "He's resting." Dean didn't need to know details as far as she was concerned, after all, he hasn't told her much either.

Dean nodded at her purposefully, calmly, but the desperation in his eyes gave him away. "I'll speak to him in the morning." He sighed and sat down on the bed beside Sam, checking his temperature and pulse. He must've not liked what he found, cause he buried his face into his palm, giving a bigger sigh when his brother started moaning again.

Meg backed away. She knew suffering when she saw it and felt no inclination to watch that. Once upon a time, yeah, but that was once upon a time. She was passing the doorframe when Dean's voice stopped her, "what am I gonna do Meg, what am I gonna do?" Perhaps the question had been poetic, despite her name being mentioned, because Dean didn't look at her, he resumed to tending to his baby brother by removing his shoes and jacket. With her not being the type that would often give the impression of being caring, she started backing away again. But Meg knew exactly what to do to help everyone and she was going to do it.

Back in Castiel's room, she tossed her shoes, her outer garments and slipped into the bed next to the still at some degree angel, snuggling close to him just like how they've been resting before Dean's arrival. Castiel was still sleeping, but noticed the matrass shifting beside him and instinctually pulled the demon closer, seeking the comfort. Meg didn't hesitate to accommodate that, a small reflective smile crossing her lips as she stroked his bare chest above where his diminished, powerless grace flickered inside him. It didn't have the effect of purifying her anymore, but she was still fond of the warmness it gave. She was quite sure it was unique, she had never seen anything like it inside any other angel.

Castiel reached all the way round her, stroking her arm and shoulders seemingly idly, except inwardly he was focusing on and savouring every new sensation his almost human body gave him. They remained silent, simply caressing each other for a while till his other hand came up to take hers, gripping it tight, but lovingly, possessingly with intertwined fingers.

Bodies pressed together, she already knew that his body responded to her, but looking up at him at the domineering gesture, she saw the change in his eyes as well. She had never seen those blues so dark and she knew what they meant. He wanted her the same way as she wanted him. Perhaps it wasn't the right moment, not with all that had transpired over the last few days, and yet there has never been a better time. She blinked at him, almost innocent, questioning.

"Meg," he gasped, his husky voice not leaving room for doubts about his intentions.

She shook her head, "not Meg. That was my vesssel's name, Castiel. My name is Nahara," she whispered.

"Nahara," he repeated reverently, "it means light."

"Well, I wasn't always a demon," she shrugged, rubbing her hand at his stomach with a ravenous look. Still in awe about her name, he kissed her worshipfully, lingering, like she was something sacred and delicate, something to be adored, his princess or maybe his queen. Meg would never admit it of course how she liked it, so she rubbed his lips against his roughly in response instead. She was not ready to be Nahara again.

Their tongues greeted each other with familiar ease and danced sensually, arms tightened around in each other in need. He kissed her over and over and only pulled his lips away from her to continue kissing her neck. As his kisses trailed lower, he turned them to the side and over, giving himself room to attack her collar bones and then her breast. Castiel was kissing her everywhere, all the places she ached to be kissed, claiming her at the same time as professing his devotion, lost somewhere between the call of gentle touches and passionate claims. That weakly flickering grace inside him ignited her in turn in ways unimaginable before, leaving her true form defenceless and at his mercy as he was moving down her body.

Removing the obstacle of her panties, his kisses moved to discover her womanhood licking inwards from the inside of her thighs. Meg purred, squirming when he flicked a fingernail against her clit tantalizingly. "Well, I..never!" The demon managed to utter at his skill. He was rubbing her, so close to her most sensitive point, working the pressure to make her drip with wetness. Meg thrust upward and grabbed him by the neck to pull him up against her needily. She grabbed his cock, its size filling her fist, and she held it up to her entrance, barely having the patience to do anything more that circle it round her folds, her wetness mixing with his precum. Thankfully one pump between her fingers told her he was ready, blood pulsing through the length and tip raging hot and flushed for action. The demon moaned in anticipation, breathing in when shoving her hips forward and pushing his throbbing cock inside her, then she breathed out, pulling him on top of her and giving control back to him.

Castiel stalled and gasped at the extraordinary sensation, so warm and moist and indulgent and satisfying that it reminded him of the host of heaven, the force that filled all angels up with energy and light. He moved around slowly inside her, round and inwards too, testing as much her potential for pleasuring as his. It was only when Meg gave him a slap at his buttocks and squeezed that he started going faster and faster.

"Nahara," he panted at the next, more unfamiliar sensation that gripped him, making him tether at the edge of rapture. He gripped the sheets around them as if for dear life in fear the weakness building through his every pore will make him buckle and fall atop of her.

"Come on Clarence," she urged him on, voice strained, just like his, still driving him to go deeper, go faster, submerge himself in the very human experience. He did exactly as she wanted, as his needs dictated, immersing himself in her, lost in the swarm of sensations and then all of a sudden he was a goner. His body shook with surges of pleasure as much as exhaustion, his breath stuck between moans and incoherent garbles. Unexpectedly, suddenly, being human wasn't so bad, not for the moment anyway. Castiel embraced that feelings as well, burying his face in her shoulder, taking shelter in her arms. "You're Nahara. Nahara of Assyria."

Meg laughed, "well maybe, once upon a time, but who cares about that now? So babe, how did you like the fucking?"

Tbc