Fishblight Mire gold [m]

Perhaps Castiel was naive, but one could not say he was innocent. He had bled and killed in the war of his homeland, battled wolves he once called brothers and sisters who had turned against their flock. Innocent could never again describe him, not after the great fall of his honor - even though he felt he had done what was right. Now in the quiet of his mind was the memory of the last one to draw those feelings out in him - a sharp desire, the slow smolder of passion. He had not followed through, because of betrayal and fear alike, but who was Armand to him? He was a stranger, some figment drawn from a dream to tempt and teach him. 

The kisses made Castiel close his eyes, a soft sort of surrender all in its own. Armand did not harm him, moving gently and slowly - even as he admitted how crude the thing be was planning was. This made Castiel open his eyes, peering up at the smaller male. The sly smile on his face was only more enchanting and Castiel swallowed thickly. "You should smile more - you look better that way." What was in truth a compliment - maybe even a weak misguided attempt at flirtation - was delivered in Castiel's usual awkward way, even if he didn't mean it to be unkind. Still, Castiel did not move or rise against Armand, allowing the Golden boy to do as he pleased.