Just Muse Me 24.4.3 Finally
"Dean is way too smug about this."
He almost cracked a smile. "He believes it is important."
Pam shook her head, not even bothering to hide a smile. "He does. It isn't as important, isn't nearly as important as he thinks it is, but he does like it."
"I have noticed."
There were all kinds of ways she could interpret that, though she knew (or thought she knew) what he meant. Dean was enthusiastic about his appreciation for women. It had been one of the things she appreciated about him. Now, things were different. Dean knew that, apparently.
"Do you think he's listening at the door?" she asked Cas, then made a face at the thought. "Oh, I hope not."
"I sent him elsewhere," he told her. She wondered if it was out of a desire for privacy or knowing that some things should not be intruded on whether or not they would occur or... she didn't know what he expected out of the night. He had died once before. She had died once before. They had come back. It should have taken the edge off of things, but it didn't. Perhaps for either of them.
She shook her head, tracing the carpet rather than looking at his face when she asked. "Do you want to?"
"Do you?"
All right, fair question. She didn't want to put any obligation on him, though. And it was difficult to say, after nearly a year of coming to know each other, to love each other as they were. Suddenly this was an option, just as she had settled into the equilibrium of loving in a way that did not include the physical. Most of the physical. The little touches were still there, and just as important.
She curled her fingers around his. "I would love to," she told him after a moment, raising her eyes to his. "But only if you want to. This, here. What we have, it's not dependent on one act, or one anything. It's everything." That was one of the more frightening things she'd said lately. "We don't have to... you know. I mean, it isn't the most important thing on earth or even the only way to spend a last night..."
He smiled. "Pamela."
Ah. "That's a yes, isn't it?" She smiled back.
"Yes."
It wasn't an ideal place for the first time. Dean had shelled out for the honeymoon suite, at least, with logic that Pam didn't want to look at too closely. There was a hot tub, chocolates, candles. Pam looked around. "Well, I'll give him this, Dean didn't... skimp." Kitschy. That was the word she was looking for. It was kitschy.
"Can we not go to your home?"
Pam opened her mouth to point out that it had taken her a good half a day to drive there and then she blinked. "Can you..."
He could.
Surrounded by her stuffed toys, her books, her wall hangings. Her crystals in the window. Some of which were now inscribed with protective symbols, but at least they were pretty wards, dammit. It was night, and they cast no rainbows, but the thought was there. So were the candles, which she lit. Vanilla scented. They filled the room with warmth, helped her relax, made her smile at him without tension and wondering how exactly she introduced an angel to the world of sex.
He smiled back. He had a beautiful smile, in human form.
She traced that smile with a fingertip, feeling as it turned into a questioning look. Words were escaping her, and she wasn't sure she would know how to explain it to him if she had been able to speak. They stared at each other for a moment, during which Pam thought that if they fell into each other's arms as the music swelled she was going to find the scriptwriter and murder her in her sleep.
They didn't. Not so much that, nothing so hurried. He stayed there while she stepped into him, into his arms, palm cupping his cheek. His fingers slipped through her hair, traced down her jaw, over her shoulder, and she caught the flicker of understanding in his eyes. Her touches of a moment ago, not so confusing now, were they. Touching is half of what sex is about, she wanted to tell him, except then they were kissing and this was much better than explaining it to him in words that she didn't have access to anyway.
Once they started it was easier to continue. Easier for her, at least. He didn't know what he was doing and had to follow her lead once they got through the kissing on the floor and moved towards the bed, still entangled. She smiled as she tugged him onto the bed, pushed his coat off of his shoulders and reached around to drape it on the nearby chair. Loosen his tie a bit. "You really need a change of clothes if you're going to be going around like this more often," she mused out loud.
He didn't quite understand, but he was starting to. Enough that he only chuckled, and kissed her again.
The tie eventually joined the coat on the chair.
She teased his buttons loose one by one, teasing herself as much as him with her fingers crawling down his chest. His fingers combed through her hair, traced down her cheek and down her neck and along her smile into the corners of her mouth as she laughed softly, until she encouraged him to explore further. That was what this was about, wasn't it? Exploring each other.
They managed to get their clothes off (well, most of them, she still had one sock on) without too much awkwardness. He was fascinated with her body, running his hands along her body until she pointed out that he could explore other ways as well. Then he was fascinated with kissing her, down from the hollow of her throat. He had a soft way of kissing her that she realized only by the time he had gotten to her hip was an imitation of her kisses. He didn't know exactly what to do with her different parts, and she slipped her fingers under his chin and tilted his gaze up again. They'd get to that. Later. Maybe the second time around.
This wasn't about work. This was about love. Easing him into the experience of physical love, distracting him from wondering if he was all right, if she was doing all the work, whatever else he was murmuring before she pointed out that being with him was the pleasure here, and all else was secondary. Always had been.
She put him on his back for the first time, kneeling above him, watching his eyes. Wide, a little startled, she had to ask him if he was sure about this. His response, more ardent than she expected but entirely welcome, to pull her down and kiss her deeply certainly indicated a yes. It felt strange, moving over him in a way she had hundreds if not thousands of times before, feeling him gasp and rise beneath her as he discovered all manner of new things connected with love and touch and ways she didn't know how to begin to understand. It was familiar to her, the ways to move and touch and figure out which parts made his body respond better. It was all new to him, but some things were familiar to her.
Some things were new. The sounds he made, little gasps, tremors in his voice between whispered words of love. Whimpers and moans. The way his eyes widened, still blue even in this half-light of the moon and stars through her window, the candles bathing everything in warmer gold. The way he touched her with trembling hands that was unsure of how to move but confident in his desires. The scent of him, aroused, dampened lightly with sweat. The taste of him on her lips. All new, all amazing to discover. Some things, he did know.
He knew enough to put her on her back by the end, as she whispered to encourage him to move as he felt the urge, she wouldn't break. He still went slow and careful, till she thought they both wanted to scream with needing that release. Till it felt like she had caught it and lost it and caught it again and then he moved at the last and it snuck up on her again and she was shaking. He was shaking. She guided him down to settle beside her, curled into his arms and slid her hand up along his chest to rest over his rapid-beating heart. Strange, still, to think of an angel with a heartbeat. She looked up at him through her lashes to find him looking back down at her, and smiled shyly. Like her first time all over again, eager to please, wondering if she had done right. From the look of him though, the sight and Sight of him, they had both enjoyed that.
"Not bad for your last night on earth, hmm?" Her fingers traced over his chest, still sensitive, both of them.
"I hope not," he murmured back, and smiled. "I... would like to have many more of these nights."
Pam's fingers stilled for a moment, then kept going. Her smile stayed. She wondered what had brought that on, or if it was nothing more than just wishing to spend more time with her, or if it was symptomatic of being cut off from everything he had loved. Making something new to love out of what he had. It worried her, a little; angels weren't supposed to feel lust.
No, she realized. This wasn't lust. Whatever this was, it wasn't carnal desire, and it wasn't, she thought, anything that God would have disapproved of.
"So would I," she told him, in case he hadn't been able to tell by her smile.
He almost cracked a smile. "He believes it is important."
Pam shook her head, not even bothering to hide a smile. "He does. It isn't as important, isn't nearly as important as he thinks it is, but he does like it."
"I have noticed."
There were all kinds of ways she could interpret that, though she knew (or thought she knew) what he meant. Dean was enthusiastic about his appreciation for women. It had been one of the things she appreciated about him. Now, things were different. Dean knew that, apparently.
"Do you think he's listening at the door?" she asked Cas, then made a face at the thought. "Oh, I hope not."
"I sent him elsewhere," he told her. She wondered if it was out of a desire for privacy or knowing that some things should not be intruded on whether or not they would occur or... she didn't know what he expected out of the night. He had died once before. She had died once before. They had come back. It should have taken the edge off of things, but it didn't. Perhaps for either of them.
She shook her head, tracing the carpet rather than looking at his face when she asked. "Do you want to?"
"Do you?"
All right, fair question. She didn't want to put any obligation on him, though. And it was difficult to say, after nearly a year of coming to know each other, to love each other as they were. Suddenly this was an option, just as she had settled into the equilibrium of loving in a way that did not include the physical. Most of the physical. The little touches were still there, and just as important.
She curled her fingers around his. "I would love to," she told him after a moment, raising her eyes to his. "But only if you want to. This, here. What we have, it's not dependent on one act, or one anything. It's everything." That was one of the more frightening things she'd said lately. "We don't have to... you know. I mean, it isn't the most important thing on earth or even the only way to spend a last night..."
He smiled. "Pamela."
Ah. "That's a yes, isn't it?" She smiled back.
"Yes."
It wasn't an ideal place for the first time. Dean had shelled out for the honeymoon suite, at least, with logic that Pam didn't want to look at too closely. There was a hot tub, chocolates, candles. Pam looked around. "Well, I'll give him this, Dean didn't... skimp." Kitschy. That was the word she was looking for. It was kitschy.
"Can we not go to your home?"
Pam opened her mouth to point out that it had taken her a good half a day to drive there and then she blinked. "Can you..."
He could.
Surrounded by her stuffed toys, her books, her wall hangings. Her crystals in the window. Some of which were now inscribed with protective symbols, but at least they were pretty wards, dammit. It was night, and they cast no rainbows, but the thought was there. So were the candles, which she lit. Vanilla scented. They filled the room with warmth, helped her relax, made her smile at him without tension and wondering how exactly she introduced an angel to the world of sex.
He smiled back. He had a beautiful smile, in human form.
She traced that smile with a fingertip, feeling as it turned into a questioning look. Words were escaping her, and she wasn't sure she would know how to explain it to him if she had been able to speak. They stared at each other for a moment, during which Pam thought that if they fell into each other's arms as the music swelled she was going to find the scriptwriter and murder her in her sleep.
They didn't. Not so much that, nothing so hurried. He stayed there while she stepped into him, into his arms, palm cupping his cheek. His fingers slipped through her hair, traced down her jaw, over her shoulder, and she caught the flicker of understanding in his eyes. Her touches of a moment ago, not so confusing now, were they. Touching is half of what sex is about, she wanted to tell him, except then they were kissing and this was much better than explaining it to him in words that she didn't have access to anyway.
Once they started it was easier to continue. Easier for her, at least. He didn't know what he was doing and had to follow her lead once they got through the kissing on the floor and moved towards the bed, still entangled. She smiled as she tugged him onto the bed, pushed his coat off of his shoulders and reached around to drape it on the nearby chair. Loosen his tie a bit. "You really need a change of clothes if you're going to be going around like this more often," she mused out loud.
He didn't quite understand, but he was starting to. Enough that he only chuckled, and kissed her again.
The tie eventually joined the coat on the chair.
She teased his buttons loose one by one, teasing herself as much as him with her fingers crawling down his chest. His fingers combed through her hair, traced down her cheek and down her neck and along her smile into the corners of her mouth as she laughed softly, until she encouraged him to explore further. That was what this was about, wasn't it? Exploring each other.
They managed to get their clothes off (well, most of them, she still had one sock on) without too much awkwardness. He was fascinated with her body, running his hands along her body until she pointed out that he could explore other ways as well. Then he was fascinated with kissing her, down from the hollow of her throat. He had a soft way of kissing her that she realized only by the time he had gotten to her hip was an imitation of her kisses. He didn't know exactly what to do with her different parts, and she slipped her fingers under his chin and tilted his gaze up again. They'd get to that. Later. Maybe the second time around.
This wasn't about work. This was about love. Easing him into the experience of physical love, distracting him from wondering if he was all right, if she was doing all the work, whatever else he was murmuring before she pointed out that being with him was the pleasure here, and all else was secondary. Always had been.
She put him on his back for the first time, kneeling above him, watching his eyes. Wide, a little startled, she had to ask him if he was sure about this. His response, more ardent than she expected but entirely welcome, to pull her down and kiss her deeply certainly indicated a yes. It felt strange, moving over him in a way she had hundreds if not thousands of times before, feeling him gasp and rise beneath her as he discovered all manner of new things connected with love and touch and ways she didn't know how to begin to understand. It was familiar to her, the ways to move and touch and figure out which parts made his body respond better. It was all new to him, but some things were familiar to her.
Some things were new. The sounds he made, little gasps, tremors in his voice between whispered words of love. Whimpers and moans. The way his eyes widened, still blue even in this half-light of the moon and stars through her window, the candles bathing everything in warmer gold. The way he touched her with trembling hands that was unsure of how to move but confident in his desires. The scent of him, aroused, dampened lightly with sweat. The taste of him on her lips. All new, all amazing to discover. Some things, he did know.
He knew enough to put her on her back by the end, as she whispered to encourage him to move as he felt the urge, she wouldn't break. He still went slow and careful, till she thought they both wanted to scream with needing that release. Till it felt like she had caught it and lost it and caught it again and then he moved at the last and it snuck up on her again and she was shaking. He was shaking. She guided him down to settle beside her, curled into his arms and slid her hand up along his chest to rest over his rapid-beating heart. Strange, still, to think of an angel with a heartbeat. She looked up at him through her lashes to find him looking back down at her, and smiled shyly. Like her first time all over again, eager to please, wondering if she had done right. From the look of him though, the sight and Sight of him, they had both enjoyed that.
"Not bad for your last night on earth, hmm?" Her fingers traced over his chest, still sensitive, both of them.
"I hope not," he murmured back, and smiled. "I... would like to have many more of these nights."
Pam's fingers stilled for a moment, then kept going. Her smile stayed. She wondered what had brought that on, or if it was nothing more than just wishing to spend more time with her, or if it was symptomatic of being cut off from everything he had loved. Making something new to love out of what he had. It worried her, a little; angels weren't supposed to feel lust.
No, she realized. This wasn't lust. Whatever this was, it wasn't carnal desire, and it wasn't, she thought, anything that God would have disapproved of.
"So would I," she told him, in case he hadn't been able to tell by her smile.