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The torture room was damp. Sticky. Humiliating, to be reduced to this sort of labor, as a King no less. Made Crowley miss the dust of a crossroads or the smoke filled rooms perfect for backdealing. He scraped harder, finally succeeding in dislodging a piece of gristle from the table. He swept it into a bucket where it landed with a wet squelch, splashing a mix of bodily fluids onto his trouser leg. Crowley pressed his lips tightly together in displeasure.
The doors banged open, delivering one Castiel, coat flapping dramatically around her ankles.
She did everything with such- panache. Crowley really had to admire that.
It seemed like every time he saw her lately, she looked a little different from the last. Shedding her old clothes one article at a time - the latest victim of her crusade, the awful periwinkle blouse, replaced with a crisp white dress shirt. Crowley was reasonably sure a jacket matching her black pants was in the immediate future. He wondered what her little soldiers thought of it all. Was it incomprehensible to them? Blasphemous? Maybe they hadn’t even noticed - after all, they weren’t very bright. Angels were generally not worth talking to - with Castiel as an exception, as usual.
“Crowley,” she was growling and flushed - with that wild look in her eyes. He could practically smell her wet cunt from where he was standing. Must have been spying on her little girl crush again.
“How’s the front, kitten? Looking for a little relief, perhaps? Maybe a round of drinks with your good-time girl?” Castiel just frowned at him, uncomprehending. Or, as Crowley had found, pretending not to comprehend what she didn’t want to hear.
She stalked closer, leaning in, glowering. “Have you made any progress?”
“No,” he was displeased about it well enough as it was, without Castiel nipping at his heels.
“Try harder,” she leaned further in, close enough that he could smell her breath. Minty, somehow - clean. Begging to be sullied.
“Why don’t you take a break, hm? Let me rub your shoulders, darling.” He raised his hand, still covered in gore and dragged it up her neck, massaging the stiff tendon between his fingers, savoring the way she seemed torn between pulling away and leaning into it. He continued upward, running the tip of his fingers into the fine, short hair at the nape.
In all the pictures his demons gathered for a dossier, Julie Novak has glossy long hair, all the way down to her ass.
He scratched her scalp lightly and her eyelids drooped in pleasure. He pounced - pulling her in for a kiss.
The second their lips met she jerked like she was electrocuted and disappeared in a panicked flutter of feathers
Crowley surveyed the empty space. He grinned.
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The uncomfortable truth was, Crowley was never very good at torture. He found that whole business uncouth - after all, one caught more flies with honey than vinegar. And since most of the onboarding and acquisitions department of Hell had been painfully faithful to Azazel and his little cabal, Crowley hardly dared to bring in any of them into his plan.
So it fell to him to try, and fail, to persuade the creatures on his table with the tip of the blade. His current little project was a vampire slowly, torturously bleeding out from a chest wound. It was a particularly nasty stench - the rotten blackened blood unlike anything else Crowley ever smelled, and he had smelled his own ripped intestines when the hellhounds came to collect.
The man was pale and shivering - the foam forming at his mouth pinking from the pierced lung. Eyes getting a little glassy. Crowley probably couldn’t get anything else from him. He stabbed the knife into his gut in disgust and clicked his heels.
The dark wooden interior of his favorite safehouse office was a welcome respite. No place like home, indeed.
He heard the tell-tale flutter and before he could even turn around fully, she was on him. For a moment he thought this was it - she got tired of their arrangement and he was going to find out where bad little demon whores and fags go when an angel burns them into a crisp.
But instead she pushed him against the wall and dove for his face, biting at his mouth like she confused kissing with eating. He saw no reason to protest - slipped his hand inside her coat - noting the appearance of the black jacket, as predicted - unbuttoning her shirt. He grabbed her breast roughly and she gasped into his mouth.
She let him push her away a little. “Why don’t I show you something?”
She stared, hair disheveled, breathing hard. Clearly overwhelmed and angry about it.
He grabbed her right hand and studied it - a little small and narrow for his tastes. But he would bet his throne it was going to work in Castiel’s favor later - perfect fist for someone more delicate and ladylike.
She was frowning, impatient.
“Best take this to the bedroom, hm? I will want to lie down for this.” He walked away, not turning around to check if she was following him. He could hear the moment of hesitation and smirked - still at war with herself. Adorable. Then, her long strides closed the distance quickly.
He gave her a little show, undressing slowly - slipping out of his jacket and folding it meticulously over the back of a chair. Building up anticipation - and anyway he was not going to wrinkle his clothes for her. When he popped the third button on his shirt her mouth fell open a little. Crowley preened internally - it was nice, being appreciated. If not for his actual appearance than at least for his curatorial eye. Crowley only ever picked the best.
He watched her hands open and close at her side - it’s like she was hypnotized, watching him like this. When he slipped the belt out of the belt loops, her nostrils flared. He unbuttoned himself and her eyes trained on his erection, straining against the satin of his underwear.
His trousers and boxers joined the rest of his clothes and he stood naked before her, stroking himself into full hardness. Castiel rowed her eyes over his body as she struggled to decide where to look next. Flattering indeed.
He climbed onto the bed and stuffed a pillow under his ass. “Well what are you waiting for, kitten? Come here.”
Being addressed finally unfroze her from the spot and she hurried over, climbing on the bed - for a moment towering over him, indecisive. Then she folded over, running her palms over his thighs and then stuffing his cock in her mouth with a desperate moan. Much more initiative than Crowley had expected. But Castiel was always full of surprises. He winced as her teeth gracelessly scraped the underside of his cock, but he let her be - clearly this was a big moment for her. She was slurping, wet and messy, sticking his cock as far down her throat as it would go, making inarticulate noises.
Crowley was gracious with that body - it wasn’t even his, after all. When she had her fill and drew back, Crowley snapped his fingers and handed her a little tub, before she could get distracted again.
Castiel narrowed her eyes, “vegetable shortening?”
“It’s traditional, darling.”
She glared. “Is this a joke?”
Crowley sighed. “Use it to slick up your right hand. Trust me on this.”
When she did as asked, he guided her hand between his legs, “now press in - start with a finger.” That seemed to pique her interest - no doubt mentally tallying the possibilities of what could be done with bodies like the one in Crowley’s possession. She pressed in the tip of her middle finger, expression curious.
“What am I doing here, exactly?” Mouthing off, as usual.
“You’re going to put your entire hand in me.” That got a short, shocked inhale out of her.
“Do I have your attention, then?” She nodded. She looked hungry - like this was only whetting her appetite.
He told her what to do and she followed it to the letter - only proving what a good little student she could be if properly motivated. Crowley basked in his position - what a pleasure to have a general in God’s army at his beck and call and what a pleasure to have her fingers in his ass. His vessel responded with vigor - his cock leaked precome onto his stomach and the nervous synapses sparked in concert. Crowley originally chose this body because he liked how it looked, but he kept it because of how responsive it was. The best damned sex toy money couldn’t buy.
It was also loose, easy. Didn’t need much prep. “Now - tuck your thumb and you can ease it in.” Castiel nodded, mouth open, wet tongue sticking out, pressing against her bottom lip. She slipped into him, disappearing up to her wrist. The look of wonder was really something to behold.
“Ahh, an angel earned its wings today.” He bowed his back, spread his legs, feeling the muscles contract, feeling the way she filled him up to the brim. He didn’t even have to look to know she was glaring.
“You can move now. Or make a fist.”
He could feel her inside - curling her fingers, and then. She moved. He gasped.
She pushed further in, drinking up his reaction and he gave them to her. Moaned and whimpered, as she fucked into him with vigor, shook when the body became too overwhelmed with pleasure. He gave into fantasy for a moment - imagined she would smite him like this and he would light up like a pyre, one perfect moment of ecstasy--
The image tipped him over, and the body tightened, squeezing Castiel’s hand, cock shooting its load all over his stomach and chest. She didn’t stop of course, milking him for all he got, until the pleasure long gave over to pain and he grit his teeth, whimpering and sweating through her hand driving into him, until she got her fill and pulled it out.
He sighed, savoring the aftershocks, folded his right arm behind his head. He watched her, waiting to see what she would do. There were all kinds of places they could go from there, as long as he didn’t rush her.
She grabbed his spent cock, examining it speculatively.
“That won’t be in operation again for a minute yet, kitten.”
She narrowed her eyes.
And then, he was burning. Burning like the fires of hell were burning, and it took him a moment to realize that this was not something happening to his vessel, but that his essence was melting from touching Castiel’s grace, as she infused it into his cock, driving blood into it, making the tissues erect by force.
She let go and he gasped for air reflexively. His dick stood proudly over his stomach - Castiel threw one leg over him, still clothed in that horrid polyester suit - and in a blink of an eye, she was nude.
Crowley had the uncomfortable impression he’d lost control of the situation a little.
She guided his dick into her ass and before he could say anything she stuffed herself full, sitting down in one fluid movement, muscles in her thighs and arms and stomach contracting, as she threw her head back with a groan.
“Well,” he said and couldn’t think of a follow up. If anybody asked, he would fully deny being so inane.
She was uncomfortably tight over his cock, squeezing him painfully, but her grace prevented him from losing his erection. She moved her hips experimentally - finding what angled worked for her, everything playing out on her face. So easily readable.
He lifted one of her hands off her thigh and placed it over her breast. She looked at him quizzically and he squeezed her nipple, satisfied with her shocked little gasp.
“What else?” she growled. Demanding like always.
Crowley hummed, and led her other hand over her pussy, pushing her fingers against her clit. Watched her eyes widen as she rubbed it.
“Now don’t say daddy never got you anything.”
She glared. “Be quiet. You are distracting.”
“Am I? Or am I making it better?”
She grit her teeth and ground her pelvis against him, pulling on her nipple violently, face flushed. Crowley smirked - when he was right, he was right. That only incensed her further and the lights flickered as she threw her wings open, net of pure light bright enough to burn his retinas, if his demonic form even had such a thing. Underneath it, her vessel was riding his cock, the wetness of her cunt soaking the hair on his stomach and thighs.
She was gasping unabashedly, each drawn breath wet and desperate. He dragged his palms up her thighs, feeling the muscles rippling as she moved up and down and beyond all that her angelic form unfurled endlessly like a fractal, surrounding him completely. Not touching his blackened and burnt true form - probably better for his continued existence, but disappointing nevertheless.
He could see it coming - the way her wings shimmered and her form tightened and then her ass squeezed his cock, making him hiss out in pain, muscles twitching as she sat down and pushed against him huffing, rubbing her cunt furiously, drawing it out, droplets of her juices splattering over his stomach and the sheets. Crowley licked his lips.
He let her have a few seconds before he came in with the killing blow. “Now, a word of advice.” She blinked at him owlishly, still in the aftershocks. “If you ever want to stick something in a human - perhaps a certain shared acquaintance of ours - take it a little slower. Humans are… fragile.”
Oh the death glare he received in return for his concern. A flutter of feathers and she was gone. Crowley stretched luxuriously in his bed and magicked himself an already lit fag.