1, if you don't mind? :3aiustiviriMay 29 2012, 23:02:23 UTC
He is maybe, just a fraction, surprised to see them. Because he's never actually seem them before, not the real ones anyway, he doesn't count flickering shadows on the walls because they'd been just that. Shadows. But truthfully, the real thing is way, way more awesome.
"Whoa," really, is all he can say to the both magnificent and terrifying span of wings.
Sound great to me! :Dtheangel_casMay 29 2012, 23:54:54 UTC
Castiel eyes Dean warily. He's not used to having them visible to anyone, save his brothers and sisters. He's never thought about it before, but letting Dean see them like this feels incredibly intimate, which seems silly when he thinks about the fact that he's held Dean's sould, that he's always looking at it.
"I can put them away if they make you uncomfortable." They shift restlessly as he makes the offer. Really, having them out like this for the first time in a very long time feels nice, like stretching a muscle he hasn't used in a while.
"What?" Dean asks, looking up but then he's shaking his head. "No, no, that's okay. It doesn't. Make me uncomfortable." Because it doesn't, they're too awesome and amazing to make him feel anything less than in awe by them.
His fingers itch to touch them, to see if they're as downy soft as they look or if they feel anything but soft. It wouldn't surprise him, given the kind of angel Cas is, soldier and warrior of heaven. Though stil, they look infiniately soft and the way they rustle catches his eyes.
They twitch again and then he stretches them out further, almost audibly sighing. Even with his unease at Dean seeing them, Castiel feels relaxed as he lets them stretch out. He closes his eyes for just a moment before opening them again and looking at Dean.
"You're staring. You told me not to do that." His wings can't possibly be that interesting. They're fairly ordinary wings. Some angels have very impressive wings, but Castiel isn't one of them. His are a little on the small side and an unremarkable shade of dark gray. He doesn't see why they would be worth Dean's attention in the first place. If he'd seen Anna's wings, he wouldn't give Castiel's a second glance. He knew that much.
He takes a few steps closer as he watches them spread out and the looks back to Cas, a little grin on his face. "Are you kidding me?" he asks, shaking his head. "Cas, they're awesome. I mean, really, really awesome looking. I've never even seen wings like this before."
He takes in the color, though and tilts his head to the side. "I thought they'd be white," Because it made sense, angel wings were white, weren't they? "Can I touch them?"
"Some angels have white wings. I do not. I assure you, though, you are the only person who finds them so impressive. They aren't very impressive at all to other angels." Sometimes angels do remark on each other's wings, but no one has ever looked at his wings the way Dean is now.
They twitch again as he thinks about Dean touching them. It's not as if the idea bothers him, but he's never even let a human see them before and they are incredibly sensitive like this. He trusts Dean, though, and that trust wins out over any worry he has. It always does. He nods. "You may touch them."
"Well, I think they're pretty awesome, Cas," he says as he moves in close, nearly into the other's personal space the way the angel so often did with him and reaches out. At first, his fingers ghost over a feather, as if afraid to touch now that he can, not wanting to hurt something so ethereal looking. But they're as soft as they look and he can't help but touch more now
He skates his fingers through the feathers, feeling their downy texture and really, the heather gray is a lovely color and Dean thinks he rather likes it. Reminds him just how unique Cas is, how strange yet quite endearing.
Castiel doesn't blink at their close proximity. He always stands this close, anyway. The light touch makes Castiel's wings twitch, though. It's so faint at first that it almost tickles, but then Dean starts to really touch. It's almost startling the way it feels as Dean's fingers move over his feathers. It's pleasant, almost overwhelmingly so, and he can't help leaning into Dean as his wing presses back against Dean's touch just a little, encouraging and inviting.
He swallows. "I'm glad you think that, Dean." Dean's opinion matters more to him than anyone else's, anyway.
His free hand slowly, carefully, inches around Cas' waist to pull him in just a little closer, under the guise of wanting to see the wings a little more clearly. And he loves the way they feel in his hand, through his fingers, as they trace up over the bony frame of them, sliding along the downy soft almost velevet like skin along the arch of the wing. And then Dean's burying his fingers into the thick of them and it's, pardon the pun, heavenly.
"Can you feel that? My fingers touching them? What does it feel like?"
He puts up no resistance, letting Dean move him closer with ease. Being close to Dean is never something he would protest. Quite the opposite, really. He feels Dean touching every delicate part of his wings with an almost reverent attention to them. It's crazy, but he can't imagine why he'd even been nervous about letting Dean see or touch them. If there's anyone Castiel should allow to touch his wings like this, it's Dean.
Suddenly, Dean's hand is touching more firmly, more sure of himself and Castiel nearly loses himself in that. Dean's hand on his waist is about the only thing keeping him tethered and he lets out a shaky breath that could almost be a low moan. "Like you're touching me, Dean. The real me."
He raises a brow at that, and how deep Cas' usually gravelly voice is and that causes heat to explode inside of him. He swallows a little and nods. "Like, the real you? The -- the angel you? The one we can't see without our eyes burning out?" He asks, just for clarification because, wow. That's -- wow. He feels awed by that, to know that Cas can feel him to the deepest, most heavenly part of him.
"They're beautiful, Cas," he says quietly, his hand on the angel's waist tightening just a little. "I like your wings the best." Dean then cards his hands through the feathers, gently touching and tweaking one here or there and then in an explorative touch he rubs his fingers along the base of one wing where it meets and connects to Cas' back.
He doesn't trust his voice, so Castiel just nods. It's exactly that. He's touching Castiel in a way no human has ever touched him. He'd never really thought he would want one to before now. Dean isn't just some human. He's Dean. Everything sets him apart in Castiel's mind.
Leaning in, almost until he's actually leaning on Dean, he takes a deep breath, trying to get his reactions under control. Dean hardly has a list of angels whose wings he can compare Castiel's to, but if he says he likes them, that's all that Castiel wants to hear. He sighs, leaning forward just the little extra bit so that he forehead is leaning on Dean's shoulder. He feels Dean's hand move to the base of his wing, feels the muscles shift under Dean's touch, and he relaxes in a way that he's not sure he ever has before. "That feels nice."
This -- this is really nice. And while he's always felt a connection with Cas, an ease with him that he rarely feels with anyone else, this feels so much more closer, more intimate in a way he's never been with anyone before. Dean turns his head a fraction and lightly nuzzles against the side of Cas' head as it rests on his shoulder, the arm that was around his waist comes up to bury his fingers in Cas' soft dark hair.
"'M glad, feels nice for me too," he says, grinning a little as he works his fingers against the base, massaging it and along the structure of bone. To know that he was touching Cas, his real self, made him feel unworthy of such a thing yet at the same time so humbled that Cas would trust him enough to let him.
Turning his head, Castiel returns Dean's affectionate gesture. Everything about this is more intimate than anything Castiel can remember ever experiencing. The way Dean is touching his vessel, the way Dean is touching him, is overwhelming and he doesn't want it to stop.
He barely registers Dean's hand in his hair, distracted by the feeling of his hands on Castiel's wing. His back arched into Dean's touch, muscles moving to accommodate Dean. If anyone is worthy of touching Castiel like this, it's Dean. There isn't another living being that Castiel trusts more. He doubts there ever will be.
God, he could just stand here all damn day and touch Cas' wings. He wants to, honestly, because their softness is addicting and so is the way Cas reacts to the touching. And more than anything he wishes he could see it, Cas' true form. He knows he can't, wouldn't be able to withstand it but he wants it all the same none the less.
His hand moves through the feathers, stroking, then slides up along the bony arch of the wing, nails scraping over the velvety soft skin oh so gently, not wanting to hurt the wing, but if Cas can feel it... His other hand drops from Cas' hair to his other wing, fingers digging into the feathers, gently tugging and teasing them.
Castiel can feel himself flush, skin heating from some combination of Dean's attention and the touch. He lets out a heavy breath and turns his head more fully to press his face into Dean's neck. If Castiel thought Dean could see his true form, he would reveal himself without hesitation. It still hurt him that Dean hadn't been able to understand him when he'd tried to speak to the hunter.
He breathes heavy against Dean's skin, shaky as he feels Dean's nails scratching over his skin. Then Dean pulls at his feathers and he can't help the moan the escapes him.
"Whoa," really, is all he can say to the both magnificent and terrifying span of wings.
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"I can put them away if they make you uncomfortable." They shift restlessly as he makes the offer. Really, having them out like this for the first time in a very long time feels nice, like stretching a muscle he hasn't used in a while.
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His fingers itch to touch them, to see if they're as downy soft as they look or if they feel anything but soft. It wouldn't surprise him, given the kind of angel Cas is, soldier and warrior of heaven. Though stil, they look infiniately soft and the way they rustle catches his eyes.
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"You're staring. You told me not to do that." His wings can't possibly be that interesting. They're fairly ordinary wings. Some angels have very impressive wings, but Castiel isn't one of them. His are a little on the small side and an unremarkable shade of dark gray. He doesn't see why they would be worth Dean's attention in the first place. If he'd seen Anna's wings, he wouldn't give Castiel's a second glance. He knew that much.
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He takes in the color, though and tilts his head to the side. "I thought they'd be white," Because it made sense, angel wings were white, weren't they? "Can I touch them?"
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They twitch again as he thinks about Dean touching them. It's not as if the idea bothers him, but he's never even let a human see them before and they are incredibly sensitive like this. He trusts Dean, though, and that trust wins out over any worry he has. It always does. He nods. "You may touch them."
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He skates his fingers through the feathers, feeling their downy texture and really, the heather gray is a lovely color and Dean thinks he rather likes it. Reminds him just how unique Cas is, how strange yet quite endearing.
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He swallows. "I'm glad you think that, Dean." Dean's opinion matters more to him than anyone else's, anyway.
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"Can you feel that? My fingers touching them? What does it feel like?"
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Suddenly, Dean's hand is touching more firmly, more sure of himself and Castiel nearly loses himself in that. Dean's hand on his waist is about the only thing keeping him tethered and he lets out a shaky breath that could almost be a low moan. "Like you're touching me, Dean. The real me."
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"They're beautiful, Cas," he says quietly, his hand on the angel's waist tightening just a little. "I like your wings the best." Dean then cards his hands through the feathers, gently touching and tweaking one here or there and then in an explorative touch he rubs his fingers along the base of one wing where it meets and connects to Cas' back.
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Leaning in, almost until he's actually leaning on Dean, he takes a deep breath, trying to get his reactions under control. Dean hardly has a list of angels whose wings he can compare Castiel's to, but if he says he likes them, that's all that Castiel wants to hear. He sighs, leaning forward just the little extra bit so that he forehead is leaning on Dean's shoulder. He feels Dean's hand move to the base of his wing, feels the muscles shift under Dean's touch, and he relaxes in a way that he's not sure he ever has before. "That feels nice."
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"'M glad, feels nice for me too," he says, grinning a little as he works his fingers against the base, massaging it and along the structure of bone. To know that he was touching Cas, his real self, made him feel unworthy of such a thing yet at the same time so humbled that Cas would trust him enough to let him.
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He barely registers Dean's hand in his hair, distracted by the feeling of his hands on Castiel's wing. His back arched into Dean's touch, muscles moving to accommodate Dean. If anyone is worthy of touching Castiel like this, it's Dean. There isn't another living being that Castiel trusts more. He doubts there ever will be.
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His hand moves through the feathers, stroking, then slides up along the bony arch of the wing, nails scraping over the velvety soft skin oh so gently, not wanting to hurt the wing, but if Cas can feel it... His other hand drops from Cas' hair to his other wing, fingers digging into the feathers, gently tugging and teasing them.
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He breathes heavy against Dean's skin, shaky as he feels Dean's nails scratching over his skin. Then Dean pulls at his feathers and he can't help the moan the escapes him.
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