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Meg gets the easy task of keeping watch over Sleeping Beauty while the Winchesters are off pulling their usual mischief. Castiel isn’t too much trouble though; he just kinda lays there and twitches if he’s having a really bad hallucination. Meg would call him creepy if she weren’t, you know, a Demon.
She’d have been all set to ride out the rest of her babysitting days with the birdie tucked away in his nest. But then princess opted out of nap time.
That’s not the problem though.
Hell, it could have been a solution, a powerful Angel who’s decided to cling to Meg like he’s imprinted on her, all of Heaven’s powerful wrath at her disposal; he could have been her bomb on a leash.
It’s just her luck that Castiel is absolutely bonkers though; waxing poetic on the goddamned flowers and the bees, cryptic, hyper, and more work than she bargained for.
For example, he made a painting in the day room during arts and crafts that looked suspiciously like Meg’s true form, only the scars of Hellfire are covered by wilting rose petals - whatever that’s supposed to mean. Meg specialized in torture, not Modern Art. Castiel called it ‘A Rose in the Thorns’. She tossed it before anyone could ask questions or try to dope him up to contain the crazy.
Again, she could have dealt with just that, made due with the hand she was dealt and all that crap. But then, well, there’s really no way to describe it except he started getting frisky with her.
+
“This is a very beautiful uniform on you; the colors contrast your skin tone perfectly.”
If Meg didn’t know any better she’d have said he spoke shyly, a barely there smile on his face and the way he couldn’t hold her gaze for a moment.
Then, like a switch had been flipped his demeanor changed, he lifted his chin, and he leaned against the wall like a goddamned greaser on the prowl. His gaze felt like a heated caress sweeping over her and she could see his hands twitching as if he was barely able to keep himself from reaching out and touching.
“The way it clings to your flesh is just so…It’s lovely.”
The room is suddenly warmer and when did her breathing become so shallow?
“Lay with me Meg.” Out of nowhere he asked, like it’s not the most bizarre thing he’s ever said to her, which is something considering he informed her of the nutritional value of crickets just yesterday.
“Yeeaaah, I think I’m gonna pass on that one, Clarence.”
Castiel honest to God pouts.
“Uhhm I-I’m gonna go grab some lunch for you. Let everyone know that you’re just the average nut in the loony bin; weather you eat it or not is your choice.” She shakes her head and turns to make her exit when…
“Please tell me you didn’t just pinch my ass, Clarence. Please tell me that’s not what just happened.” She asks through gritted teeth.
Castiel only lets out a huff of laughter and poofs away; most likely to the garden.
+
In the middle of the night she takes a stroll through the empty corridors waiting to hear back from the Winchesters, but only kept company by the insane mutterings of the patients and ancient flickering lights.
During a particularly long flood of darkness Castiel appears in front of her, head tilted to the side with an odd smile on his face.
“Real cute trick, we’ll make a magician out of you yet.” Sarcastic as ever, it’s her go to state of being; not like she’d ever admit she was startled.
“It’s very late, Meg.” He holds out his hand for her to take. “Come; let’s go back to the room.” Castiel squints at her when she pauses, wondering why they aren’t on their way back already.
“Listen here you-ooh” Castiel crowds her against the wall, his standard issue sneakers squeaking across the linoleum.
One hand on either side of her head and he’s leaning towards her, as if to kiss her. He’s lingering right at the edge of no return, warm breath making her lips damp before he dips to the side and brushes the tip of his nose over her bared throat.
“What’s gotten into you?” Out of breath and gripping his trench coat like her life depends on it.
He nudges a leg between her slowly opening thighs and starts pressing up against her core with his knee.
“Dunno, I just want to feel.”
Castiel starts thrusting his clothed erection against her hip and she meets his movements in time with a rocking grind against his thigh. Meg takes hold of his forearm, sliding her hand over the rough fabric until she gets a good grip on his wrist. In a move that, to be honest, surprises both of them she guides his hand to her breast and arches into the touch.
Meg moans aloud when he finds her nipple and flicks the tightly beaded nub hidden under offending layers.
He backs away from her then, after releasing a broken groan that was lost somewhere in between her neck and her uniform.
“What gives?”
Castiel only nods like it will clear his head and calm his rapidly beating heart before turning and shuffling back to his room.
“What the hell?” she breathed into an empty hallway.
+
To keep up appearances Meg takes her scheduled thirty minute lunch break in the shitty break room with a broken fridge and a wobbly table. She sits in the uncomfortable pleather chair to skim the marked half-off romance novel someone left in the magazine pile and scoffs at the swooning maiden with a knight in shining armor.
It’s all just to pass time until Castiel makes his way there so that she can monitor him. On queue he’s in the room with all of his usual flair; a gust of wind and a flapping trench coat.
Straight away the tension is thick and suffocating in the small room; all of his focus on her as his tongue darts out to wet his upper lip.
Meg tilts her head to the side and tosses the mommy porn in the trash.
“So what’s the deal, Angel Face?”
Castiel nods with a shy smirk and starts strutting toward her; chest puffed out and shoulders drawn back.
Her eyebrow lifts in a questioning display, but she goes along with it all just the same. Leaning onto the back of the chair, she spreads her legs in a dare.
Castiel drops to his knees on the stained carpet in front of her and presses a kiss to the side of her clothed knee dragging his mouth over the material following the trail his hands blaze as they brush over her thighs. He pauses a moment to run his thumbs over her hip bones, bunching up her scrubs further up her torso in the process. She lets her head drop back when he hooks his fingertips under the waistband and tugs her pants down. The dull ‘woosh’ of her scrub bottoms falling to the floor breaks the silence and all that’s left is the symphony of their ragged breathing.
“If I’d known you were gonna be this adventurous today I’d have worn my exciting lingerie.”
He spreads her thighs wider apart to make room for himself and he settles in between to nuzzle at her still clothed pussy. Castiel groans and starts rocking his hips into the air as Meg threads her manicured fingers into his dark locks, pushing his face harder against her mound.
“You keep playin’ all the wrong games Cas… Fool me once; shame on you. Fool me twice; shame on me. You ever gonna follow through pretty boy?”
He lets out a keening whine when her grip tightens in his hair. Castiel tugs her plain black cotton panties down and takes the time to remove them and her pants still draped around her ankles. Castiel gets his arms under both of her legs to hook them over his shoulders, slides her forward until her ass is nearly hanging off of the seat, and licks her open.
No technique and no set pace; all sloppy wet groans. One second he has his tongue fucking deep into her core, the next he’s sucking hard on her clit, and every once in a while the faintest brush of his bared teeth has her grinding against his face. Fingers join; two in the first thrust with how slick she is and, with a well aimed curl of his wrist, he’s gulping down the new flood of her orgasm as it trickles down her thighs.
“Sweeter than honey Meg.” And with a last gentle sweep across her throbbing clit he pulls his fingers from her dripping slit, scooping up the wetness and bringing it to his mouth, moaning around his digits as he chases the taste. He stands on unsteady legs to lean over and press a tacky kiss on her flushed cheek before he turns and walks out of the room.
Struggling to catch her breath Meg wonders if this thing between them is always gonna be ‘wham-bam thank you ma’am’.
+
Meg rests against the door frame, lingering in between getting more involved in Castiel’s games and putting an end to it once and for all.
Weighing the pros and cons of fucking an Angel of the Lord was never on the job description.
On one hand, when has she ever turned down a good roll in the hay, and, going by the break room, it’s sure as Hell going to be a good roll. Then again, when did she start actually liking the nutcase?
Castiel is awake and watching her; waiting for her to make the move this time.
Meg crosses her arms and stares at the floor for a moment, toeing at a small pile of dirt that most likely came from the gardens via Castiel’s shoes. She looks up when the cot creaks from Castiel shifting over, should she decide to join him.
He holds out his hand to her; Meg rolls her eyes, but makes her way towards him none the less, shedding her jacket and kicking off her sneakers.
This is it I guess. She thinks, wondering if it was ever going to end some other way.
She crawls in next to Castiel and smirks at the huge grin that he’s not even trying to hide. He brings his hand up to cup her jaw, letting his thumb skim gently across her cheekbone. When her eyelids flutter shut he leans forward to place a reverent kiss between her furrowed eyebrows to smooth out the lines of worry etched into her skin. His palm glides over her cheek to tangle his fingers in her curls, tilting her head back against the pillow as his lips trace over the bridge of her nose to one cheek; then the other, lower and lower until his mouth is finally on hers.
Meg is waiting for the white hot heat of power to burn her, cleanse her – maybe chase away all of her sins and set her free. But, the kiss is cool, crisp, and swift; his wicked tongue is brushing against the seam of her lips to delve into her mouth, to flick softly against her own, and lave at the roof of her mouth.
With a the hand in her hair Castiel tugs her head back, baring her throat as a small wet smacking noise sounds when their lips part; he goes straight for a sensitive spot on the column of her throat that Meg wasn’t aware that she had. She arches against him, letting slip a broken gasp and he wastes no time in nibbling and sucking a mark onto her pale flesh as her hands scramble to shove his coat off; only succeeding in gathering the material at his shoulders. Castiel licks with a flat tongue over his mark, splays his palm comfortably on the small of her back, and pulls her as close against his body as he can.
“Wanted this, Meg; wanted you.” His words are muffled against her bruise and his other hand skims lower over the curve of her ass.
“Could’ve had me anytime, Angel, why wait until now?” She fists the front of his coat; set to finally get enough leverage to push it off of his shoulders when he slips his warm palm underneath her panties and scrub bottoms to start kneading at the soft flesh of her behind.
“If I’d satisfied your lust in the beginning, that’s all it would’ve been. You wanted it, but you had to need it, Meg.” He’s pushing her flat against the bed and settling between her spread legs.
“Fuck! Alright, alright – I need it, now take your damn clothes off.”
Castiel ignores her request instead kneeling over her, one hand braced against the cot while the other deftly pushes her blouse up her torso, mouth not far behind to lavish damp caresses across the heated flesh on her stomach. Meg clutches the sheets in her hands and arches into his touch.
“Mmm, you’re killin’ me here, Big Bird.” Meg had meant to express her frustration, but ended up sounding blissed with the way Castiel took his time simply touching her; tasting her.
She can feel him smile against her skin and Meg’s had enough teasing; she releases her hold on the sheets and brings her hands to the top hem of his pants and pulls them down as far as she can from underneath him. Castiel lets out a hiss when his cock bobs free and slaps against his stomach, Meg reaches out once his pants have fallen past the curve of his ass to wrap her hand around his length.
She strokes slowly, torturously up and down, thumb gliding over the tip to smear the pre-come that’s collecting. After that it’s like a switch has been flipped inside of Castiel. Both hands work together to shift her body and remove her clothes; Meg lets out a hearty laugh when she can feel the burn of his grace unclasp her bra and he’s sliding it down her arms. Castiel’s jaw ticks at the sight of her exposed to the cool night air and his breathing comes in harsher through gritted teeth as he watches her nipples peak and pebble from the cold.
“C’mon, Angel…” she pants letting her free hand wonder under his shirt, urging him to shrug out of his coat, and helping him guide his limbs free from the offending material. When he lies on top of her, chest to chest, skin on skin, it’s everything Meg needs at this moment. She tightens her grip on Castiel’s heated erection, moaning when he starts fucking into her fist, and drags her nails down the expanse of his back.
“Your skin feels so good, Meg.” Castiel runs his hands down her sides, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of her scrubs and works them down her legs, crawling down to remove them completely and squirms out of his own pants as well.
Once he settles against her again he lets his mouth find hers in a chaste kiss as he pushes her knees wider apart to rut the crown of his cock against her dripping folds. Meg keens and thrusts her hips against the blunt pressure, aiming to gain any kind of friction on her clit. She watches, pupils blown wide, as Castiel grips the base of his length to guide the tip through her slick opening.
“Deeper, Cas; I can take it, c’mon.” Castiel keeps his thrusts shallow, barely in, nearly slipping out with every movement.
“It’s better than – I never imagined it would be like this, Meg, you take me in so perfectly.” And with that he pushes himself deeper into her until he’s buried to the hilt.
Meg lets out a strangled moan at his quickly paced thrusts; the wet slap slap slap of skin in sync with the creaks and groans of the rickety cot. She wraps her legs around him, drawing him closer, and threads her fingers through his hair to guide him to rest his forehead against her sweat damp chest.
Rocking together, heavy breathing echoing in the small room, and reveling in the feel of each other until Castiel begins to lose his rhythm. Meg reaches between her legs to fumble with her clit until her muscles tense; clench and release in rapid spasms as she comes, throwing her head back against the threadbare pillow in a high pitched moan, lost to the soundproof walls of the facility. Castiel drives into her once – twice more before spilling his release inside of her.
+
For the rest of the night and into the early morning light, they hold each other, not a word said between them.
Of all the things between them, the after sex cuddling never happened, at least according to Meg.
+
“He's been like the naked guy at the rave ever since he woke up, totally useless.”
“Will you look at her? My caretaker, all of that thorny pain; so beautiful.”
The Winchesters don’t need to know that the sly smile Castiel throws Meg means anything…