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He kept pace with me like no one ever had before, matching my stamina in ways I didn't think possible. We explored every desire, every moment, pushing each other further, without pause or hesitation. There was no end to it, no slowing down. Every touch, every kiss, was like a spark fuelling the fire.
There were moments during our time together when I had to take the lead, guiding him through the maze of desire that was entirely new to him. I whispered instructions, my voice laced with both encouragement and demand, showing him exactly how and where to touch me, and what to do to make me unravel beneath his hands.
To my delight, he took to my guidance eagerly, his willingness to please apparent in every action. It wasn't just compliance—it was devotion. He listened intently, as though my words were sacred, each command a lesson he was determined to master.
I expressed my own desires openly, telling him what I wanted, what I craved from him, and without hesitation, he fulfilled every request. There was something intoxicating about how he seemed to thrive under direction, his natural inclination to follow blending perfectly with my penchant for control.
He was good—almost too good—at being ordered around. But then again all he knew was orders, not like these ones, but it was similar in a sense.
By the time it was over, we were both drenched in sweat, our breaths ragged and deep, as though we'd just finished a marathon, hearts pounding.
After so many rounds, exhaustion finally caught up with me. I drifted off to sleep, curled up against him. It felt natural, comforting—like the kind of scene you'd see in one of those romantic movies. His arm wrapped around me, holding me close, his warmth all over. My head rested on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath me, its rhythmic pulse lulling me into a peaceful sleep.
When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the absence of Cas beneath me. His warmth, his presence—gone. I could feel a blanket draped over me, the softness of the velvet creasing against my skin. The warmth it provided was a subtle comfort, but it didn't compare to the presence I had felt with Cas. My eyes finally fluttered open, searching the room, but Cas was nowhere to be found within.
I lifted my body slowly, clutching the blanket tightly to my chest as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. As we had moved from the couch after a few rounds. The chill in the air made me shiver, and as I glanced out the window, I realized it was still dark outside—only a few hours must've passed. A wild few hours, indeed.
I stood to my feet and made my way into the living room. My gaze drifted around, taking in the aftermath of the night. His clothes were gone, the place eerily quiet. The only sound was the crackling of the nearby fireplace, as the logs were still burning away.
I couldn't believe what I had just done. I had let my guard down, completely. I had potentially just slept with the enemy—a man who might very well be working with Crowley. But guilt didn't settle in—not even a flicker of it. Instead, my thoughts drifted back to what Meg had once said about feeling clean after her heated, intense kiss with him. It sounded ridiculous at the time, but now I understood. Strangely enough, I felt the same—like some part of my darkness had been stripped away, leaving me... lighter. Almost clean.
