Disclaimer

Supernatural is a television series, created by Eric Kripke, produced by Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland Sound and Vision and Warner Bros. Television, distributed by Warner Bros. Television

I'm writing this for fun and I'm not making any money from this. The lines quoted from the show are in Italics.

Touching an angel

He memorized the way he was touching her when she sighed, but went on talking as if nothing else was going on. Crowley's voice was usually low and gravelly when he wasn't shouting his real or pretended anger. He wondered briefly if she was aware that his arousal was lowering it even more. He was well aware of the effect this had on most women.

Without an inner debate, he decided. Whatever her reasons for this crazy meeting, he had made up his mind. Maybe the success of Lucifer's plan would mean the end of all demons, including his precious and beloved self, maybe not. But he would put all his ingenuity against the Morning Star because for the first time he saw the opportunity to get rid of him. With angelic assistance, he could aim not just for higher echelons of hell, but for the rule of Hell.

Time to make a deal.

"You're right," he said continuing his lazy caresses. "I can throw a spanner in the works. Are you going to help me?"

"How?"

He almost purred hearing her ask the question in a sensual exhalation of air. He knew that there were only shreds of control left in her. The poor, untouched, dreaded angel was, probably for the first time, close to someone who wasn't treating her like she was a dangerous ethereal being. He thought about pulling her in his lap, but decided against it. She could snap to reality if he did. Or he might forget himself, which was an astonishing but not impossible outcome.

"Information. There are things I will want to know that would be dangerous for me to ask the wrong person."

He was now holding her hands, running his thumbs over her wrists, observing the rapid rhythm of her pulse, imagining the flow of blood being pumped forcefully through her. He wondered in passing what would it taste like. The blood of a nun inhabited by an angel. It must taste... divine...

"Indeed," she agreed. "Discretion is paramount. I will help you."

His fingers no longer seemed sensitive enough to experience her closeness. He brought her left wrist to his lips and placed a feather light first kiss on her skin. It burnt him. She tensed, probably having a similar sensation, and pulled back her hand a little. Crowley tightened his grip, although he didn't have to because she hadn't meant to get away from him. He liked the sensation of holding her tight, holding her against her will, holding her until it hurt. With an effort of will he distanced himself from this dangerous, slippery slope of his dark imagination.

"Do you know how I can get my soul back?" he asked, whispering against her skin.

"Yessss," she hissed, like she was in pain, like she was on fire.

"You're going to help me get it back?" he asked, kissing her right wrist.

She knelt before him, without trying to free her hands. She just put her palms on his cheeks, with his own hands like handcuffs around her wrists.

"Of course," she said, looking into his eyes.

The sensation of icy burning on his cheeks and her hypnotizing gaze were destabilizing his mental compass. He was barely appreciating the image of a beautiful naked woman kneeling before him, he was only aware of her proximity. He could hear the loud, rapid thumping of her very human heart. He could feel the maddening pulse under his thumbs when she leaned in and kissed his forehead chastely. They stayed like that, without moving, for a few seconds that seemed to last an eternity. Then she slipped away from him, standing up again.

"How can I contact you?" he asked.

"You can't," Naomi answered. "Because you don't pray," she explained. "And any other way would reveal our..." she hesitated for a moment, as if looking for the proper word and settled for "collaboration. When you need to talk to me, come back to Mesopotamia. Alone."

He saw that she was regaining her composure. About time he did the same.

"Mesopotamia? I know it's not polite to remind a lady of her age, but this land hasn't been known as Mesopotamia for several centuries."

He said in such an insolent tone that Naomi actually blushed. He pressed his advantage by leering openly at her nakedness, now that she was a few feet away. Crowley took his time looking her up and down, pausing on the places of most interest and he had the satisfaction to see her blushing intensify. Naomi was becoming aware of her nakedness in a way that hadn't occurred to her before. She couldn't sustain his gaze and moved her arms in a demure attempt of covering herself.

In a heartbeat Crowley covered the distance between them, his hands encircling her wrists again, holding her arms to either side of her body. They were looking in each other's eyes, and time seemed to stay still again. Sparks of something like electricity were filling the air between them.

"What is the choice?"

Before she answered, he felt the change. He sensed the power flowing through her. He saw the expansive wings opening, so big that they almost touched the ceiling. He saw her beautiful body was no longer naked, but covered in sparkling silver dress.

"To smite you or to save you."

The burning sensation intensified. It became an unbearable pain, like acid on his palms. The light of her essence so strong it felt like a laser beam cutting through Crowley's heart.

Naomi's features were showing pain as well, yet she wasn't trying to free herself from his grasp. His grip became harder, but he no longer felt as though he was holding her captive by force. There was only a deep sadness in her eyes.

"Who would have thought this to be your first choice?" he murmured, and vanished.