Fanfiction: A Rustle of Wings
Title: A Rustle of Wings
Prompt: Candles, shadowy wings, Pam/Castiel.
Rating: NC-17
Requested By: hottestpsychic
Author’s Note: I’m going to call this Casitle’s Fallen Angel verse because well, I don’t see him falling from grace anytime soon in canon. Unless Kirpke does one of his judo surprise moves on us all. Anyway, this is totally hottestpsychic’s fault for inspiring me with her talk of candles, wings and Pam wanting to do naughty things to Castiel in candlelight. The ending came from nowhere, but seems appropriate.
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Resting his head on his folded arms, Castiel rested with his eyes closed. He didn’t need to sleep. His divine nature made it pointless. Instead, he was just lying on his stomach, listening to Pamela breathe next to him. He could sense that she wasn’t asleep either. She preferred not to when he was with her, though he had on numerous occasions expressed his concern for her health because of this. She told him she would be fine.
“I’ve stayed up past my bedtime before, you know.”
He smiled slightly. He was getting better at human expressions, even if parts of human behavior still confused him. The bed shifted slightly as Pamela moved, and then he felt her fingers ghost over his wings. It was just the barest of touches, like a spider web caught on skin but he opened his eyes and tilted his head slightly.
“You can feel that?” Pamela asked, drawing her hand back.
“How can you see them?” He asked. In his human vessel his wings were hidden unless he chose to reveal them. That show of power caused massive winds and thunder. He kept them hidden away to spare the modern devices in her home. She had been very mad about something called a microwave that he had broken on his last visit.
“They’re casting shadows.” She pointed over his shoulders and he turned his head to look. Shadowy wings were splashed across the wall of her bedroom, half folded and resting against his back. The flickering candlelight made them appear and disappear depending on the angle of the flame but they were clear enough most of the time. “I didn’t know they could do that.”
“Candles have always revealed more than humans suspect.” He explained, looking back towards her. “The things in their shadows are usually dismissed as a trick of the eye.”
“These are too defined to be a trick.”
“You can touch them,” He said, knowing she wanted to. Since their first meeting she had always been fascinated with his wings. To him, they were just an extension of his form. He could always feel them, their weight pulling on his shoulders, the brush of feathers on his back and arms. He barely paid attention to them anymore.
With permission, Pamela reached her hand out again. She was watching the reflections on the wall as she placed her hand palm down on top of one wing. For a second the weight of her hand translated as touch to him before her hand dropped through and the sensation vanished.
“I thought…” She frowned slightly and did it again. “I thought I could feel them.”
“You’re a very powerful psychic, Pamela, you can feel them for an instant.” He extended the wing, passing it through her hand again. “You feel the energy from them, not the real wing.”
“Touching a real angel’s wing would probably hurt right?” Holding her hand very carefully, she brushed it down the length. He felt the feathers press down and smooth out under the weight of her hand.
“Yes. Our touch burns humans.”
“I’ve seen Dean’s arm. Pretty big calling card you left.” Now she combed her fingers through the feathers, her eyes watching the shadows playing on the wall with fascination. “They’re… soft. Like… the smoke from incense, but warmer.”
“Hold still.” He said, reaching out and pulling her hand away from his wing. He pushed himself up on one arm and pushed the covers down, revealing her body to him. He had kept her from putting on a t-shirt to sleep in, and spent just a moment appreciating the beauty God had wrought in creating her.
“Hey, eyes up here, mister.”
He looked up immediately and she smiled at him. She wasn’t embarrassed, she was pleased, and he was grateful. He didn’t want her to be ashamed or embarrassed around him, not when he only saw beauty when he looked at her.
“Close your eyes.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, but did as he asked. Very gently, he extended one wing over her, laying it just on top of her like a blanket.
“Oh…” She gasped softly, her body lifting towards the wing.
“Stay still, Pamela, you’ll go through it.” He whispered. His wings were actually quite dexterous. More like a falcon’s wings than a dove’s, in flight he could maneuver sharply. Demon wings, more like bat wings, were actually better suited for aerial combat, but were very fragile. His were stronger, though still breakable.
Now, though, he didn’t think of them as part of his tactics or weapons. He only wanted to see more of the wondrous look on Pamela’s face. He trailed the wrist down her cheek, and ran it under her chin before going up the other cheek. Pushing himself up further on his arm, Castiel trailed the leading edge down the center of her body. Though some of the wing passed through her body, the first primary feather made a perfectly straight line down from the hollow of her throat, over her breast bone, to her belly button where he flicked the wing out suddenly, making her giggle.
“Castiel!” She scolded slightly.
Unrepentant, he folded the wing, dragging the primary feather across her stomach. The sensation sent her into another fit of giggles and he smiled at the sound. She was ticklish, something that amused him greatly. He didn’t understand what ticklish felt like, but it made her laugh and he could live for all eternity and happily hear nothing but that sound. He kept it up until she tried to push his wing away. He lifted it away, holding it above her for a moment, hesitating.
Unsure of how his next action would be received he moved slowly as he used the wrist to brush over her breast and nipple. Pamela gasped, her eyes flying open, so he withdrew the wing immediately.
“Forgive me, I thought you might enjoy it.” He explained, slightly embarrassed at his daring. He still didn’t understand the limitations and proper rules for making love. It was clear to him that she liked the touch of his wings and thought it would bring her pleasure.
“No, it’s okay, Castiel.” She reached out and cupped his cheek. “I just didn’t expect it.”
He searched her eyes for any sign of rejection or deception. He trusted her, loved her, but his divinity rested on her love. If she stopped loving him, he would Fall and lose everything. It was a heavy price to pay, but for he couldn’t stay away from her, from the warmth he’d found in her soul and in her arms. Greed, Lust, Wrath, those sins had brought down then Fallen. He would Fall only for the love he found in her eyes.
He kissed her, “Close your eyes, Pamela.”
She did as he asked without hesitation, a flush of anticipation on her skin. This time when he drew his wing over her, her fingers curled into the sheets. He could only keep his touch light, or else she wouldn’t feel anything at all, but it didn’t seem to matter. As he brushed the wrist back and forth, sometimes circling her erect nipple, her breath became faster and the flush deeper.
He shifted, rolling himself over her so he could use both wings to touch and caress her. Her hands grabbed his wrists and her hips rose to meet his. He let out a soft groan as she wrapped her legs around his hips and he pushed inside her welcoming body.
Letting his wings fall around them, he began a slow, steady pace. He was in no hurry to break the hushed mood. Pamela ran her hands up his arms, over his shoulders and neck, cupping his face in her hands. He followed her urging and lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her slowly, feeling her sigh against his lips. He felt her tongue poke out and lick at his lips. He parted them for her, tangling his tongue with hers in a lazy slip and slide.
There was no rush, no hurry, in him. All he felt was the simple desire to know her as intimately as he knew his own wings. He wanted her, just her, to become part of him, an extension if that was possible. He moved his hips slowly, matching the advance and retreat of his tongue, barely leaving her body at all. She moved with him, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. The feelings of her stretched around him, his cock sinking into her body, the wet, warm embrace of her inner muscles, were all still new to him. He wasn’t ignorant, but he wasn’t accustom to it. He prayed he never would be, not when it all felt so glorious.
With a patience he had built up over eons of existence he kept his pace slow until Pamela was clutching at his shoulders and her legs tightened around him. He understood and reached a hand between them. Still moving his hips slowly he ground his thumb against her clit.
“Oh, God.” Pamela let out a ragged moan and her body clamped around his cock. She squeezed him tightly as he watched wave after wave of pleasure roll across her face and dance through her eyes. He rested his head against her shoulder, his own eyes closing tightly as he came with her. He had been in the presence of God and still felt this pleasure, human pleasure, more deeply than God’s love. This, in her arms, was the amazing grace he had sung about.
Spent, but his soul restored he rolled onto his side, taking her with him. He wrapped his wing around her, keeping it lightly pressed against her back as he held her close. He was going to Fall. He was almost willing to throw himself from Heaven if it meant he could lay like this with her every night. Yet, still, part of him was afraid. He had never known any other life than as God’s soldier. He wasn’t sure he could live any other life. He wasn’t sure he could give her up if God gave him a choice. His arms tightened around her.
“Shhs, it’s alright, Castiel.” Pamela whispered, running a hand through his hair, then over his wing. “It’ll be alright. Don’t think about it.”
“Forgive me. Forgive me.” He whispered, unsure if he was asking her or God.
Prompt: Candles, shadowy wings, Pam/Castiel.
Rating: NC-17
Requested By: hottestpsychic
Author’s Note: I’m going to call this Casitle’s Fallen Angel verse because well, I don’t see him falling from grace anytime soon in canon. Unless Kirpke does one of his judo surprise moves on us all. Anyway, this is totally hottestpsychic’s fault for inspiring me with her talk of candles, wings and Pam wanting to do naughty things to Castiel in candlelight. The ending came from nowhere, but seems appropriate.
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Resting his head on his folded arms, Castiel rested with his eyes closed. He didn’t need to sleep. His divine nature made it pointless. Instead, he was just lying on his stomach, listening to Pamela breathe next to him. He could sense that she wasn’t asleep either. She preferred not to when he was with her, though he had on numerous occasions expressed his concern for her health because of this. She told him she would be fine.
“I’ve stayed up past my bedtime before, you know.”
He smiled slightly. He was getting better at human expressions, even if parts of human behavior still confused him. The bed shifted slightly as Pamela moved, and then he felt her fingers ghost over his wings. It was just the barest of touches, like a spider web caught on skin but he opened his eyes and tilted his head slightly.
“You can feel that?” Pamela asked, drawing her hand back.
“How can you see them?” He asked. In his human vessel his wings were hidden unless he chose to reveal them. That show of power caused massive winds and thunder. He kept them hidden away to spare the modern devices in her home. She had been very mad about something called a microwave that he had broken on his last visit.
“They’re casting shadows.” She pointed over his shoulders and he turned his head to look. Shadowy wings were splashed across the wall of her bedroom, half folded and resting against his back. The flickering candlelight made them appear and disappear depending on the angle of the flame but they were clear enough most of the time. “I didn’t know they could do that.”
“Candles have always revealed more than humans suspect.” He explained, looking back towards her. “The things in their shadows are usually dismissed as a trick of the eye.”
“These are too defined to be a trick.”
“You can touch them,” He said, knowing she wanted to. Since their first meeting she had always been fascinated with his wings. To him, they were just an extension of his form. He could always feel them, their weight pulling on his shoulders, the brush of feathers on his back and arms. He barely paid attention to them anymore.
With permission, Pamela reached her hand out again. She was watching the reflections on the wall as she placed her hand palm down on top of one wing. For a second the weight of her hand translated as touch to him before her hand dropped through and the sensation vanished.
“I thought…” She frowned slightly and did it again. “I thought I could feel them.”
“You’re a very powerful psychic, Pamela, you can feel them for an instant.” He extended the wing, passing it through her hand again. “You feel the energy from them, not the real wing.”
“Touching a real angel’s wing would probably hurt right?” Holding her hand very carefully, she brushed it down the length. He felt the feathers press down and smooth out under the weight of her hand.
“Yes. Our touch burns humans.”
“I’ve seen Dean’s arm. Pretty big calling card you left.” Now she combed her fingers through the feathers, her eyes watching the shadows playing on the wall with fascination. “They’re… soft. Like… the smoke from incense, but warmer.”
“Hold still.” He said, reaching out and pulling her hand away from his wing. He pushed himself up on one arm and pushed the covers down, revealing her body to him. He had kept her from putting on a t-shirt to sleep in, and spent just a moment appreciating the beauty God had wrought in creating her.
“Hey, eyes up here, mister.”
He looked up immediately and she smiled at him. She wasn’t embarrassed, she was pleased, and he was grateful. He didn’t want her to be ashamed or embarrassed around him, not when he only saw beauty when he looked at her.
“Close your eyes.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, but did as he asked. Very gently, he extended one wing over her, laying it just on top of her like a blanket.
“Oh…” She gasped softly, her body lifting towards the wing.
“Stay still, Pamela, you’ll go through it.” He whispered. His wings were actually quite dexterous. More like a falcon’s wings than a dove’s, in flight he could maneuver sharply. Demon wings, more like bat wings, were actually better suited for aerial combat, but were very fragile. His were stronger, though still breakable.
Now, though, he didn’t think of them as part of his tactics or weapons. He only wanted to see more of the wondrous look on Pamela’s face. He trailed the wrist down her cheek, and ran it under her chin before going up the other cheek. Pushing himself up further on his arm, Castiel trailed the leading edge down the center of her body. Though some of the wing passed through her body, the first primary feather made a perfectly straight line down from the hollow of her throat, over her breast bone, to her belly button where he flicked the wing out suddenly, making her giggle.
“Castiel!” She scolded slightly.
Unrepentant, he folded the wing, dragging the primary feather across her stomach. The sensation sent her into another fit of giggles and he smiled at the sound. She was ticklish, something that amused him greatly. He didn’t understand what ticklish felt like, but it made her laugh and he could live for all eternity and happily hear nothing but that sound. He kept it up until she tried to push his wing away. He lifted it away, holding it above her for a moment, hesitating.
Unsure of how his next action would be received he moved slowly as he used the wrist to brush over her breast and nipple. Pamela gasped, her eyes flying open, so he withdrew the wing immediately.
“Forgive me, I thought you might enjoy it.” He explained, slightly embarrassed at his daring. He still didn’t understand the limitations and proper rules for making love. It was clear to him that she liked the touch of his wings and thought it would bring her pleasure.
“No, it’s okay, Castiel.” She reached out and cupped his cheek. “I just didn’t expect it.”
He searched her eyes for any sign of rejection or deception. He trusted her, loved her, but his divinity rested on her love. If she stopped loving him, he would Fall and lose everything. It was a heavy price to pay, but for he couldn’t stay away from her, from the warmth he’d found in her soul and in her arms. Greed, Lust, Wrath, those sins had brought down then Fallen. He would Fall only for the love he found in her eyes.
He kissed her, “Close your eyes, Pamela.”
She did as he asked without hesitation, a flush of anticipation on her skin. This time when he drew his wing over her, her fingers curled into the sheets. He could only keep his touch light, or else she wouldn’t feel anything at all, but it didn’t seem to matter. As he brushed the wrist back and forth, sometimes circling her erect nipple, her breath became faster and the flush deeper.
He shifted, rolling himself over her so he could use both wings to touch and caress her. Her hands grabbed his wrists and her hips rose to meet his. He let out a soft groan as she wrapped her legs around his hips and he pushed inside her welcoming body.
Letting his wings fall around them, he began a slow, steady pace. He was in no hurry to break the hushed mood. Pamela ran her hands up his arms, over his shoulders and neck, cupping his face in her hands. He followed her urging and lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her slowly, feeling her sigh against his lips. He felt her tongue poke out and lick at his lips. He parted them for her, tangling his tongue with hers in a lazy slip and slide.
There was no rush, no hurry, in him. All he felt was the simple desire to know her as intimately as he knew his own wings. He wanted her, just her, to become part of him, an extension if that was possible. He moved his hips slowly, matching the advance and retreat of his tongue, barely leaving her body at all. She moved with him, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. The feelings of her stretched around him, his cock sinking into her body, the wet, warm embrace of her inner muscles, were all still new to him. He wasn’t ignorant, but he wasn’t accustom to it. He prayed he never would be, not when it all felt so glorious.
With a patience he had built up over eons of existence he kept his pace slow until Pamela was clutching at his shoulders and her legs tightened around him. He understood and reached a hand between them. Still moving his hips slowly he ground his thumb against her clit.
“Oh, God.” Pamela let out a ragged moan and her body clamped around his cock. She squeezed him tightly as he watched wave after wave of pleasure roll across her face and dance through her eyes. He rested his head against her shoulder, his own eyes closing tightly as he came with her. He had been in the presence of God and still felt this pleasure, human pleasure, more deeply than God’s love. This, in her arms, was the amazing grace he had sung about.
Spent, but his soul restored he rolled onto his side, taking her with him. He wrapped his wing around her, keeping it lightly pressed against her back as he held her close. He was going to Fall. He was almost willing to throw himself from Heaven if it meant he could lay like this with her every night. Yet, still, part of him was afraid. He had never known any other life than as God’s soldier. He wasn’t sure he could live any other life. He wasn’t sure he could give her up if God gave him a choice. His arms tightened around her.
“Shhs, it’s alright, Castiel.” Pamela whispered, running a hand through his hair, then over his wing. “It’ll be alright. Don’t think about it.”
“Forgive me. Forgive me.” He whispered, unsure if he was asking her or God.