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I Was Just an Only Child of the Universe

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“Look at you, angel, so hard for me.”

Cas squeezed his eyes tighter shut behind the blue silk of his tie and nodded.

“You want me to ride you, Castiel?”

“Please,” Cas whispered.

Claire leaned down to kiss Castiel’s tense mouth, gently and slowly coaxing it open for her to slip her tongue inside. Cas didn’t kiss back, but Claire didn’t expect him to. It was obvious that he was nervous. The situation struck her as slightly ironic. Here she was, a 17-year old girl teaching a full-grown man what it would feel like to lose his virginity. No, “full-grown man” didn’t even come close to accurately describing Castiel. He was truly ancient. As a girl whose father had left her when she was only eleven, and whose mother largely ignored her after that until she outright abandoned her in favour of searching for Jimmy, Claire had sought comfort in the arms and in the bed of almost any and every boy or man she could as a teenager. She’d had some boyfriends, but none of them had lasted longer than a couple of months. The plus side was that she knew what she was doing. It had hurt whenever they’d leave her, or whenever she’d leave them because even the nice ones just weren’t what she needed, what she was seeking. She would never have that. But she’d discovered, through using them and through being used by them, what she liked and what worked best for her. Eventually, she started trying to read her partners and make it just as good for them, as well. She didn’t really care for any of them; that had just come with maturity, the desire to please and comfort finally entering her mind alongside the desire to be pleased and comforted. That was how she knew that this was what Castiel needed: someone to trust, someone to whom to surrender. For all his detached coldness and his deep, innately commanding voice and his place in the world as a righteous warrior and the fact that he wasn’t even human, was superior to humans in almost every sense, he was fragile. She could see the difference in him since he’d taken her father from her almost seven years ago in her front yard. He wasn’t so cold and detached anymore. The note of stern authority so firm it was almost arrogant, as if he knew that he was the most superior being in the room and everyone else ought to as well, was entirely gone from his voice. His air of righteousness had been replaced by one of guilt and uncertainty. She didn’t know what all had happened in those years since she’d last seen him, but it was clear that he had fucked up. And that he had likely suffered as a result of others’ fuck-ups. And that others had suffered because of him. Somewhere in the space between where their lives intersected, he had incurred much pain. The ones who had hurt him had hurt him deeply. He had misplaced his trust. He needed someone to prove that they were worth his trust, that it wasn’t a mistake to allow himself to be vulnerable to another. And the ones whom he had hurt he had hurt deeply. He needed to prove that he could be good, that he could be what was required and requested. “So good for me, Castiel,” Claire whispered against his mouth.

“I want to be,” Castiel whispered back, as though he didn’t believe that he already was.

“You are, angel. You are. You’re so good for trusting me. For allowing me to rob you of the advantages of sight and movement. For carving the wards into the leather of your belt so that your hands could be truly bound between the slats of the headboard. For allowing me to see you like this, your body fully exposed while I haven’t begun to undress.”

“I wish you could see me, Cl – aire?”

Claire was still straddling Castiel’s thighs, but she had moved her face up from his slightly. She thought her presence atop him would still be palpable, though. “I’m still here, Castiel,” she assured him.

“I – I know. Just, um, what do you want me to call you?”

Claire smiled wryly. She hadn’t actually explained to Castiel what they were doing. Once they had begun, she had just sort of slipped into the Domme role, and he had slipped just as easily into the submissive. It seemed like something he’d just naturally accepted without question. She hadn’t expected him to know anything about the details of the dynamic, such as to address the Domme with some sort of title. “Just “Claire” is fine.” Claire didn’t care for “Ma’am,” because it sounded like something you’d call a fifty-year-old woman, and “Mistress” sounded a bit ridiculous to her. He wasn’t her slave tonight; he was her sub, her good boy, her angel. She kind of wished “Sir” was a unisex address; it was much more casual than “Master,” and, despite being the male equivalent of “Ma’am,” it somehow didn’t sound like an address reserved for fifty-year-olds.

“Okay. I wish – ” Castiel steeled himself for his next words. If Claire didn’t know that he was an angel, she would have supposed that he was pausing to inhale a steadying breath. Perhaps he was, despite his nonnecessity for air. “I wish you could see me, Claire.”

“This is you, Castiel. This body is yours now. You told me yourself that my – my –” Claire couldn’t bring herself to outwardly acknowledge that the naked and aroused body lying prone beneath her had been her father’s. “That your human host is dead. So, this body is as much you as your angel body, whatever that is.” Probably light or something. Or a strange creature with six wings and a thousand eyes like in the literature.

“That’s not what I mean. Claire… if you could truly see me as I see you despite the blindfold… if you could see me, my essence… the things I’ve done… I don’t have a soul, Claire, but I do have a story, and if you could read it as easily as I can see your soul… you would not believe that I am good.”

There was so much that Claire could have said to that. That she already knew the harm that Castiel was capable of just by existing. That before he had come to Earth, her family had been whole. That between his heartless dismissal of her when she first saw him and his refusal to answer any of her prayers over the years, she had believed that he was incapable of emotion or compassion. That she had thought of him as a monster who had destroyed everything that mattered to her. But, that when he finally had come back, she realized that that was not who he was. She could see him. She could see the pain in his sad eyes even when his expression was neutral. She could feel his humility. Never would she have imagined that Castiel could be described as humbled. He had learned things during these last few years to which several millennia in Heaven had kept him blind. He could care, and he did. And for that, he was good, no matter his transgressions of the past. Instead, all she said was, “I see more than you know, Castiel. I see it in your eyes. The pain, the guilt. And despite the cause, despite how justified your guilt may be, you are good. I wouldn’t have said so six or seven years ago. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have said so a week ago. But you’ve changed. For the better. Now, show me how good you can continue to be.”

“Yes, Claire,” Castiel whispered, his gravel-rough voice tinged with nervousness, but filled with determination. He sounded like he was touched by her words, but didn’t fully believe them. He was definitely breathing, Claire noticed, as his chest rose and fell once, quickly, in time with how he was trembling slightly.

She kissed him once more on his closed, quivering lips, then whispered, “You okay, Castiel?”

“Yes,” he breathed out.

“Why are you breathing?” She didn’t bother to ask why he was trembling; that was obviously nerves.

“The… the wards,” Cas tilted his head back towards the headboard and tried to slow his breathing so he could answer smoothly, “they weaken my grace.”

“I thought they just bind your grace?”

“I…” Cas bit his lower lip as though he was suddenly self-conscious. He pressed on, however. “I could have used wards like that. But when my grace is weakened, my vessel perceives physical sensations more acutely, since I become more dependent on my vessel and its abilities.”

Claire’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”

A few moments of silence filled the room that was lit only by a soft lamp on one of the two end tables that bordered the bed.

“Huh,” she added.

More silence followed. And then: “Okay.”

“Is – is that alright?” Cas’s face had become visibly flushed. Claire didn’t know whether it was from arousal or embarrassment. He had no real reason to be embarrassed; who wouldn’t want to be able to fully feel it when they lose their virginity? Nevertheless, he’d seemed shy about admitting what kind of wards he’d carved into the makeshift binding.

Claire soothed her hands down his taut arms from his wrists to his underarms, then down along his sides as she answered, “Of course it’s alright, angel. I was just surprised. I didn’t know it worked like that. But, of course, I want you to enjoy this, to feel it as much as possible. You deserve this. You do.” She bent down to capture one of his nipples in her mouth. She sucked gently at first, enjoying Castiel’s soft, breathy moans, then brought her hand up to sharply pinch his other one as she bit down on the one in her mouth.

“Ah!” Castiel hadn’t expected the onslaught of harsh sensation on his sensitive skin. When he felt Claire release his nipples, though, he moaned in pleasure at the pulsing sensation in them. The pleasure that came from the pain was marvellous. He hoped Claire would give him more. He wondered when he would get to be inside her. Would that hurt as well?

Claire shed her black leather jacket onto the patterned carpet with a cushioned thud, then crossed her arms beneath her to lift her shirt up over her head and toss it over the edge of the bed to join her jacket. Her belt, jeans, panties, and socks followed, creating a small puddle of rumpled clothing. She now sat astride Castiel's hips just as naked as he. Claire lifted her bottom from her heels and knelt upright as she guided Castiel inside her. She ran her fingers lightly down the side of Castiel's face as she asked in a voice as soft and velvety as the sheath of her young folds, "How's that feel, angel?"

Castiel lay entirely still, save for the laboured tide of his breaths.

"Castiel? Can you hear me?"

Castiel nodded.

"How does it feel?"

"I can't... I couldn't have imagined. It feels... Empyreal."

Claire couldn't help but smirk as she leaned down to kiss Castiel.

Castiel exhaled sharply into Claire's mouth as he felt the slick suction of her body drag up, and then down, the length of his shaft. He trembled as she repeated the motion, then as she did so again at a slightly faster pace. Before long, Castiel saw light shoot behind his eyelids as he felt his pleasure culminate inside Claire. Shame spread beneath Castiel's skin and infused his inflection as he whispered, "I came so fast."

"That's okay," Claire soothed, carding a gentle hand through his dark, damp hair. To be honest, she found it arousing how obviously embarrassed Castiel was by having done so. "You going to be good and clean me up?"

Castiel nodded.

Claire lifted herself off of Castiel and shuffled forwards on her knees until they touched the dip of his underarms. She lowered herself to his waiting tongue, and sighed as she felt him seal his lips to her. She gasped as he lapped up his release, and ground herself down on his tongue when she felt her own pleasure wash over her. She giggled softly in contentment as she reached over Castiel to undo his belt and the knot of his tie, freeing his hands and restoring his sight. She smiled warmly at him before tossing the accessories in her hands onto the floor and laying herself down next to him.

Castiel returned Claire's radiant smile with a weaker one of his own, admiring the way the golden waves of her hair cascaded over her shoulders, stopping just short of her pert, plump breasts. He intertwined his fingers with hers as the mattress dipped with her body. Castiel let his eyes drift closed, basking in the novelty of this intimacy, savouring the perfection of the moment, his thoughts adrift in peace and bliss for the first time in far too long.