Sacrifices Made
Title: Sacrifices Made
Author: earth_heart
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Castiel/Jimmy
Warning: Hints of dub-con
Spoilers: 6.22
Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. It belongs to Kripke and the CW/WB. I make no profit from this.
AN: Yet again, no idea where this sprang up from. ROWAN I SWEAR TO GOD I'M WORKING ON YOUR FIC. ;~;
Summary: Jimmy did what he thought he had to.
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Heaven was nice. It was. Sure, Jimmy hadn't been expecting to die the way he did - then again, it wasn't really dying, was it? - but he was given his reward and let into Heaven. It wasn't all bad. At first, Heaven wasn't anything like what he expected to be. He got used to it eventually, though, and came to enjoy it. It was his right, after all, wasn't it? After the sacrifices he had made, the way he had let Castiel use his body, being granted a place in Heaven was only right.
Castiel visited him, sometimes. They were never expected visits, and the new God always seemed to manifest himself into the better memories Jimmy was reliving. Sometimes, Jimmy thought he did that on purpose. At first he was afraid of Castiel, a tender soul trembling before the might of millions; the pure Grace at the center twisted and tainted by the darkness around it. It was right for him to be afraid of Castiel, and Castiel always seemed pleased when he was subservient.
Eventually, Jimmy lost the fear. He grew braver. He grew angry. He had died for this? So Castiel could fly off the deep end? Anger was his right, it was the blanket he wrapped himself in, protecting his trembling center as he shouted at the deity - threw insults and scorn and sneered openly in his face. Several times, he expected Castiel to simply smite him completely out of existence, snuffing out his light like one might snuff out a flickering candle. The God never did, though. He stood there and watched Jimmy with familiar dark eyes, listened to everything he said, and said nothing in return.
One day, Castiel kissed him. Jimmy was in mid-rant, screaming about right and wrong and how Castiel was definitely in the wrong. Suddenly a mouth was pressed against his, chapped lips that were his own and yet not pressing roughly, a hot tongue slipping into his open mouth. Castiel tasted like raw lightning and tar - like pure beauty and something evil. Jimmy was so surprised that for several seconds, he just let Castiel dominate his mouth. Then his anger surged and he kissed back.
Thankfully, in Heaven, clothing is optional. It's also easy to just blink away, and that's what one of them did. Jimmy's not sure which one, and he didn't really care. All he cared about was that one minute he was fisting his hands in the back of his - now Castiel's - trench coat, and the next his nails were raking down the deity's back, leaving bloody trails that healed as soon as they were dug. He liked that. It sent a sick twist of pleasure through him, warring with his revulsion because he didn't do this. Only apparently he did, because he bit and clawed and snarled at the taste of the burning blood that trickled into his mouth, and he let it happen.
Castiel let it happen, too. He actively encouraged it, shoving Jimmy down onto the bed that was suddenly empty of the manifestation of his wife and climbing over top of the man. It was Jimmy's body, his strengths and weaknesses, only now it was possessed by something that didn't know the meaning of the second word. There was only strength in Castiel, in every line of his body and burning blackly in his eyes. He didn't know the body, though, not like Jimmy. Every touch was a new sensation for him and Jimmy used that to his advantage, even if it was a small one. He took and bit and kissed, reckless and abandoned and unable to care.
In the back of his mind, Jimmy knew he was doing something wrong. He was doing something horribly wrong, and he hated himself for it. He knew he should stop, should draw away, but kissing Castiel was like dying and being reborn again; like being ripped apart at the atoms only to be built back into something new. Jimmy quickly found himself addicted, craving, blood under his nails and on his lips and his emotions roaring at him for more.
Fingers thrust into him, quick and rough but so good. He arched, keening, and rocked down onto them, spreading his legs shamelessly and dragging Castiel closer to bite at his neck until it turned red, pale skin slicked with life-blood to remind them, to warn Jimmy. Castiel may bleed, but he would never die, and he could do what he wanted. He could make it hurt for Jimmy, and there was a slight burn. It bled away, muted under the rush of arousal and pure need that being in God's presence left him feeling.
Sex had never been like this with Amelia. It was a betrayal to her memory, but Jimmy had ended that marriage the minute he let Castiel into his body. This was his reward, apparently, skin slick with sweat and his hair sticking, curling, to his temples while he bucked and writhed beneath a creature that had long ago abandoned the righteous path. Another finger twisted into him, three now, and he growled at Castiel, snarled at him in demand. Fisted his hands into the God's hair and pulled hard, watching those lust-dark eyes go completely black.
Castiel was no longer an angel. He was no longer even something vaguely holy, despite the title of God that he'd claimed. Jimmy knew it, and so did the angels. So did the Winchesters, he bet, but right now he had better things to do than think of all of them. Not when Castiel's hands were gripping his hips so tightly that, had he been alive, they would have shattered. Instead, all he did was let the God haul him up and slam inside of him, his cock scraping and rubbing across Jimmy's internal muscles and striking sparks against his prostate. The soul moaned, demanding more, and bit harshly at Castiel's jugular until he was given what he wanted.
There was nothing soft and gentle about what they were doing. There was no love to the action, only anger and need and, if Jimmy looked closely enough at Castiel, a tiny flicker of fear hiding beneath the swirling vortex of Purgatory souls. Anything Castiel might have been was gone, and he proved it with every rough thrust, every uncaring arch of his hips that should have left Jimmy broken and bleeding. It felt like something tore inside of him, a quick flash of pain followed by soothing relief as it healed.
Jimmy bared bloody teeth and rolled them over, the bed suddenly large enough to accommodate them. He settled on top of Castiel, his legs spread on either side of the deity's hips, and clenched down on the cock inside of him. The growl that rumbled from Castiel's chest was nothing close to human, or Godly. It was pure, animalistic drive, something driven by emotions and base need and evil intent. How far the mighty had fallen, and it made him smirk when he lifted himself up and rocked back down, the smirk disappearing when his mouth fell open and a moan tore free from his body.
His head fell back and he scrabbled for some kind of purchase, something to hold onto so he could let loose. Castiel wasn't touching him, his hands laying against the bed. Every once and a while Jimmy saw them twitch from the corner of his eyes, as if the God was actually restraining himself in something. His resolve was cracking, though, his skin starting to glow a muted, sickly gray as he lost control.
Eventually that control snapped and Jimmy howled when Castiel grabbed him by his shoulders and slammed him down, holding him in place and working his hips in tight, frantic bucks. The God had been a virgin, and apparently even being promoted couldn't make him last longer. It was almost sick in how ironic Jimmy found it. He forgot it quickly enough when heat and burning fire tore through him, his body filled by Castiel's release and his eyes rolling back in his head. His dick pulsed and he came across the deity's pale chest, marking him in little flicks and strips of white.
A hand cupped his cheek, almost terrifyingly gentle, and Jimmy looked at Castiel through slitted eyes. The aftershocks in Heaven were glorious, leaving him feeling liquid and sated and almost eager to go again. They could, he knew it, but apparently that wasn't what Castiel wanted. Jimmy didn't give a flying fuck what Castiel wanted, but this touch was so curious that he wanted to see what came from it.
He watched the black bleed from Castiel's eyes, leaving behind blue that was slightly darker than what it had been once. There was a lot of things different between Castiel and Jimmy, his human body changed and warped in ways that no one but he could notice. The cum was still on Castiel's chest, smeared across his nipples and freckles. As he watched, it vanished, and then he looked at Castiel again.
"You have made many sacrifices for me," the God said, his deep voice rolling and flexing as it crested through emotions. His palm burned hot against Jimmy's cheek, chaotic power swirling beneath the surface.
"I've done nothing for you," Jimmy retorted, rolling away and standing up. He felt the God's release leak out of him, trickling down his thighs, and left it rather than cleaning it away. His body felt sore and he clung to that, held on with tooth and nail because he didn't want to lose it. "Any sacrifice I made was never with you in mind."
"You gave me your body."
Turning, Jimmy fixed Castiel with cold, hard eyes. The God stared back, unfeeling and uncaring. There was no question about who was in charge here. Even with Castiel flat on the bed and Jimmy looming over him, bristling and aggressive, the God held all the power. He was just giving Jimmy his moment of victory, though what that victory was, Jimmy wasn't sure.
"I gave my body to an angel. I don't know who you are, or what you are."
Castiel's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, and then he was swinging himself up and standing. When he turned his back Jimmy saw his own pale, supple flesh, the curving line of what had been his spine. Now it was Castiel's, Castiel's body. His eyes started down, around mid-calf, and worked their way up. So many things the same, and yet everything was completely different.
When his eyes reached the deity's shoulderblades, Jimmy choked off a noise of shock. There, where he knew Castiel's wings were supposed to be, the flesh was black and rotted, skin being eaten away until the muscle beneath began to show through. He hadn't felt that when he'd grabbed Castiel's back. Even now, stepping close and laying his hand directly over the growing hole, he felt nothing. It just felt like smooth, unblemished skin beneath his searching fingers, even though his eyes could clearly see the decay.
"We all make sacrifices," Castiel growled, and then he was gone. Jimmy's hand fell back to his side and he looked down at his bed, at the rumpled and torn sheets. Something shuddered through him and he closed his eyes, his revulsion making his stomach heave. There was no vomiting in Heaven, though, and the feeling passed almost as soon as it came. Rather than running for the bathroom, he crawled onto the bed and curled up far away from where Castiel had laid when they had fucked. He stared at the spot with narrow, burning eyes, and wondered when Castiel would come back; if he would still even be Castiel when he returned.
Sacrifices always had to be made in war.
Author: earth_heart
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Castiel/Jimmy
Warning: Hints of dub-con
Spoilers: 6.22
Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. It belongs to Kripke and the CW/WB. I make no profit from this.
AN: Yet again, no idea where this sprang up from. ROWAN I SWEAR TO GOD I'M WORKING ON YOUR FIC. ;~;
Summary: Jimmy did what he thought he had to.
------
Heaven was nice. It was. Sure, Jimmy hadn't been expecting to die the way he did - then again, it wasn't really dying, was it? - but he was given his reward and let into Heaven. It wasn't all bad. At first, Heaven wasn't anything like what he expected to be. He got used to it eventually, though, and came to enjoy it. It was his right, after all, wasn't it? After the sacrifices he had made, the way he had let Castiel use his body, being granted a place in Heaven was only right.
Castiel visited him, sometimes. They were never expected visits, and the new God always seemed to manifest himself into the better memories Jimmy was reliving. Sometimes, Jimmy thought he did that on purpose. At first he was afraid of Castiel, a tender soul trembling before the might of millions; the pure Grace at the center twisted and tainted by the darkness around it. It was right for him to be afraid of Castiel, and Castiel always seemed pleased when he was subservient.
Eventually, Jimmy lost the fear. He grew braver. He grew angry. He had died for this? So Castiel could fly off the deep end? Anger was his right, it was the blanket he wrapped himself in, protecting his trembling center as he shouted at the deity - threw insults and scorn and sneered openly in his face. Several times, he expected Castiel to simply smite him completely out of existence, snuffing out his light like one might snuff out a flickering candle. The God never did, though. He stood there and watched Jimmy with familiar dark eyes, listened to everything he said, and said nothing in return.
One day, Castiel kissed him. Jimmy was in mid-rant, screaming about right and wrong and how Castiel was definitely in the wrong. Suddenly a mouth was pressed against his, chapped lips that were his own and yet not pressing roughly, a hot tongue slipping into his open mouth. Castiel tasted like raw lightning and tar - like pure beauty and something evil. Jimmy was so surprised that for several seconds, he just let Castiel dominate his mouth. Then his anger surged and he kissed back.
Thankfully, in Heaven, clothing is optional. It's also easy to just blink away, and that's what one of them did. Jimmy's not sure which one, and he didn't really care. All he cared about was that one minute he was fisting his hands in the back of his - now Castiel's - trench coat, and the next his nails were raking down the deity's back, leaving bloody trails that healed as soon as they were dug. He liked that. It sent a sick twist of pleasure through him, warring with his revulsion because he didn't do this. Only apparently he did, because he bit and clawed and snarled at the taste of the burning blood that trickled into his mouth, and he let it happen.
Castiel let it happen, too. He actively encouraged it, shoving Jimmy down onto the bed that was suddenly empty of the manifestation of his wife and climbing over top of the man. It was Jimmy's body, his strengths and weaknesses, only now it was possessed by something that didn't know the meaning of the second word. There was only strength in Castiel, in every line of his body and burning blackly in his eyes. He didn't know the body, though, not like Jimmy. Every touch was a new sensation for him and Jimmy used that to his advantage, even if it was a small one. He took and bit and kissed, reckless and abandoned and unable to care.
In the back of his mind, Jimmy knew he was doing something wrong. He was doing something horribly wrong, and he hated himself for it. He knew he should stop, should draw away, but kissing Castiel was like dying and being reborn again; like being ripped apart at the atoms only to be built back into something new. Jimmy quickly found himself addicted, craving, blood under his nails and on his lips and his emotions roaring at him for more.
Fingers thrust into him, quick and rough but so good. He arched, keening, and rocked down onto them, spreading his legs shamelessly and dragging Castiel closer to bite at his neck until it turned red, pale skin slicked with life-blood to remind them, to warn Jimmy. Castiel may bleed, but he would never die, and he could do what he wanted. He could make it hurt for Jimmy, and there was a slight burn. It bled away, muted under the rush of arousal and pure need that being in God's presence left him feeling.
Sex had never been like this with Amelia. It was a betrayal to her memory, but Jimmy had ended that marriage the minute he let Castiel into his body. This was his reward, apparently, skin slick with sweat and his hair sticking, curling, to his temples while he bucked and writhed beneath a creature that had long ago abandoned the righteous path. Another finger twisted into him, three now, and he growled at Castiel, snarled at him in demand. Fisted his hands into the God's hair and pulled hard, watching those lust-dark eyes go completely black.
Castiel was no longer an angel. He was no longer even something vaguely holy, despite the title of God that he'd claimed. Jimmy knew it, and so did the angels. So did the Winchesters, he bet, but right now he had better things to do than think of all of them. Not when Castiel's hands were gripping his hips so tightly that, had he been alive, they would have shattered. Instead, all he did was let the God haul him up and slam inside of him, his cock scraping and rubbing across Jimmy's internal muscles and striking sparks against his prostate. The soul moaned, demanding more, and bit harshly at Castiel's jugular until he was given what he wanted.
There was nothing soft and gentle about what they were doing. There was no love to the action, only anger and need and, if Jimmy looked closely enough at Castiel, a tiny flicker of fear hiding beneath the swirling vortex of Purgatory souls. Anything Castiel might have been was gone, and he proved it with every rough thrust, every uncaring arch of his hips that should have left Jimmy broken and bleeding. It felt like something tore inside of him, a quick flash of pain followed by soothing relief as it healed.
Jimmy bared bloody teeth and rolled them over, the bed suddenly large enough to accommodate them. He settled on top of Castiel, his legs spread on either side of the deity's hips, and clenched down on the cock inside of him. The growl that rumbled from Castiel's chest was nothing close to human, or Godly. It was pure, animalistic drive, something driven by emotions and base need and evil intent. How far the mighty had fallen, and it made him smirk when he lifted himself up and rocked back down, the smirk disappearing when his mouth fell open and a moan tore free from his body.
His head fell back and he scrabbled for some kind of purchase, something to hold onto so he could let loose. Castiel wasn't touching him, his hands laying against the bed. Every once and a while Jimmy saw them twitch from the corner of his eyes, as if the God was actually restraining himself in something. His resolve was cracking, though, his skin starting to glow a muted, sickly gray as he lost control.
Eventually that control snapped and Jimmy howled when Castiel grabbed him by his shoulders and slammed him down, holding him in place and working his hips in tight, frantic bucks. The God had been a virgin, and apparently even being promoted couldn't make him last longer. It was almost sick in how ironic Jimmy found it. He forgot it quickly enough when heat and burning fire tore through him, his body filled by Castiel's release and his eyes rolling back in his head. His dick pulsed and he came across the deity's pale chest, marking him in little flicks and strips of white.
A hand cupped his cheek, almost terrifyingly gentle, and Jimmy looked at Castiel through slitted eyes. The aftershocks in Heaven were glorious, leaving him feeling liquid and sated and almost eager to go again. They could, he knew it, but apparently that wasn't what Castiel wanted. Jimmy didn't give a flying fuck what Castiel wanted, but this touch was so curious that he wanted to see what came from it.
He watched the black bleed from Castiel's eyes, leaving behind blue that was slightly darker than what it had been once. There was a lot of things different between Castiel and Jimmy, his human body changed and warped in ways that no one but he could notice. The cum was still on Castiel's chest, smeared across his nipples and freckles. As he watched, it vanished, and then he looked at Castiel again.
"You have made many sacrifices for me," the God said, his deep voice rolling and flexing as it crested through emotions. His palm burned hot against Jimmy's cheek, chaotic power swirling beneath the surface.
"I've done nothing for you," Jimmy retorted, rolling away and standing up. He felt the God's release leak out of him, trickling down his thighs, and left it rather than cleaning it away. His body felt sore and he clung to that, held on with tooth and nail because he didn't want to lose it. "Any sacrifice I made was never with you in mind."
"You gave me your body."
Turning, Jimmy fixed Castiel with cold, hard eyes. The God stared back, unfeeling and uncaring. There was no question about who was in charge here. Even with Castiel flat on the bed and Jimmy looming over him, bristling and aggressive, the God held all the power. He was just giving Jimmy his moment of victory, though what that victory was, Jimmy wasn't sure.
"I gave my body to an angel. I don't know who you are, or what you are."
Castiel's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, and then he was swinging himself up and standing. When he turned his back Jimmy saw his own pale, supple flesh, the curving line of what had been his spine. Now it was Castiel's, Castiel's body. His eyes started down, around mid-calf, and worked their way up. So many things the same, and yet everything was completely different.
When his eyes reached the deity's shoulderblades, Jimmy choked off a noise of shock. There, where he knew Castiel's wings were supposed to be, the flesh was black and rotted, skin being eaten away until the muscle beneath began to show through. He hadn't felt that when he'd grabbed Castiel's back. Even now, stepping close and laying his hand directly over the growing hole, he felt nothing. It just felt like smooth, unblemished skin beneath his searching fingers, even though his eyes could clearly see the decay.
"We all make sacrifices," Castiel growled, and then he was gone. Jimmy's hand fell back to his side and he looked down at his bed, at the rumpled and torn sheets. Something shuddered through him and he closed his eyes, his revulsion making his stomach heave. There was no vomiting in Heaven, though, and the feeling passed almost as soon as it came. Rather than running for the bathroom, he crawled onto the bed and curled up far away from where Castiel had laid when they had fucked. He stared at the spot with narrow, burning eyes, and wondered when Castiel would come back; if he would still even be Castiel when he returned.
Sacrifices always had to be made in war.