Fic: I Will Leave You With Bruises (Gabriel/Castiel, NC17)
Title: I Will Leave You With Bruises
Fandom: Legion/Supernatural
Pairing: Gabriel/Castiel
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Questionable consent.
Dedication: redrobin
Summary: Only archangels are truly unreadable.
There are no dramatics, no thunder and lightning to herald the archangel's appearance. Only an open motel door and the quiet pop of the kitchen light dying.
Castiel can only thank what little luck he has that Sam and Dean are hunting a werewolf, that they are not here to make the mistake of attempting confrontation.
Gabriel's vessel is appropriate for his needs, the clear strength of the human imposing enough even before considering how Gabriel had been forced to make adjustments to contain his form. Armour and weaponry like that could not be forged on Earth; and the wings of his true self refused to be hidden without any further use of energy. The air of the room was not cooling on account of any draft from outside; keeping angelic fire from burning everything in sight was no easy feat.
"You know why I am here," Gabriel says as he walks in, voice not entirely recognisable as human.
"I know." It takes everything in Castiel not to run, even if he knows full well the futility of trying to escape an archangel on foot.
Gabriel doesn't move like a lion or snake or wolf. There's no hunt in his eyes. He moves like a machine, cold, impassionate, driven by purpose and purpose alone. "Castiel, the blasphemer."
"I did not turn against God, I turned against my orders."
"A human distinction." Gabriel's eyes glitter with what little light they catch in spite of the dark, lifelessly beautiful like coal. "And you are not human."
"They cut off my wings," Castiel reminds, not daring to directly implore for mercy.
"And left you your grace." Gabriel steps forward and closes his fingers around Castiel's neck; Castiel grabs the offending hand with both his own but cannot remove it. "You were beautiful in your obedience. They will teach you its value again."
Gabriel lets go and shuts his eyes; in an instant the doors and windows shut, and what light had been allowed in from outside is cut off. It does not matter. Castiel knows there can be no escape from Gabriel; waits for pain to tear screams from his lungs, freezes still when Gabriel's hand comes to rest against the skin of his chest and drums lightly. It takes a moment for him to recognise the familiarity in the lack of rhythm to the drumming, its nature eluding him until he realises Gabriel is tapping with a speed human reflexes could not manage.
Morse code.
:Repeat: Castiel taps back.
:If I speak into your ears or your dreams they will hear. They are blind to this. I will not kill you:
:You were sent to punish me:
:Your faith lies with God. I serve Him. Not them. You need not say you consented:
Castiel shivers at the words unspoken, his voice feeling all at once too dry. :Human distinctions:
:Created by us:
Gabriel's fingers have no questions in them, no patience either, and they tear through Castiel's clothing as if the material were no stronger than cotton wool. Strange to think of a body that never belonged to him as exposed, but since Jimmy was dragged from the vessel to Heaven, Castiel has felt overly protective of it. The tie looped around his neck lies smooth against the bared skin of his chest, but he supposes it evens the score; Gabriel still wears his collar, undoubtedly has to so his loyalty to God cannot be questioned or denied.
In some ways he feels as if he shouldn't, but Castiel misses his own. Perhaps it is why he took the vessel and kept the tie.
Gabriel's hands move away for a moment and Castiel's nerves feel jarred at the sudden clamour of banging wood and crashing metal before he finds himself turned and shoved face down against the kitchen counter, slick liquid running over the base of his spine.
"Spread your legs," Gabriel snarls and Castiel obeys without thinking, forces himself not to sigh in relief when Gabriel's fingers smooth the oil down between them, pushing up inside him before there is a clattering of armour and the fingers are removed. Gabriel's left hand closes over his own, taps lightly once more. :This will hurt. Use that:
Castiel braces himself for an entirely different kind of pain now but lets himself cry out against it as Gabriel pushes in, the stretch and burn aching even if the hand closed over his own and the lips pressed cool against the back of his neck are a reassurance. It hurts just as much for the first few thrusts, but almost as soon as he starts to relax into it, he feels the tapping again.
:Protest. I will cover your mouth:
He doesn't want to be silent but knows he has to, taps only :Thank you: in return before saying, "Don't, you don't have t-" and Gabriel's free hand cuts him off. It doesn't completely allow him to cry out as he wishes, but it helps with any slips; and when he uses his own free hand to stroke his erection in clumsy but achingly good motions there are more slips than he'd expected.
Gabriel's own movements lack any sort of grace after long enough and Castiel feels a strange, misplaced pride at that. This is not truly his body; but even so, he closes his eyes to better concentrate on the sensations when Gabriel lets go of his hand to grip him by the hips and fuck him harder, yelling out when he comes in four short, sharp jerks.
Castiel does not complain about being left to find orgasm under his own devices. It is scarcely the punishment he had expected. He still aches when Gabriel pulls out and rests against him, breath ticklish and cool against his neck.
:You risk too much: Castiel taps after he has come, the kitchen counter and his stomach slick for now but soon to dry unpleasantly.
:Michael and Raphael have no interest in my destruction and are the only ones who possess strength enough. We serve Him. Not the whims of politics: A long pause, then, almost as if hesitant, :I am the strength of God. I fight for Him. I tire of petty punishments:
Castiel wishes he could find words to reassure, but there is little point in trying to tell an archangel what he already knows in prettier phrasing, and instead turns to press his forehead to Gabriel's. :I hope for His true command too: Castiel says, knowing this at least is honest, before tilting his head to press a chaste kiss to cold lips.
Gabriel's hands move lightly over his skin but Castiel can feel blood beneath being drawn to the surface, a promise of aches and hiding himself from Dean's eyes for days to come. :Let this satisfy them. I hope we meet under better terms in future:
:Go in peace:
Gabriel has to twist his laugh into something crueller before leaving, but it was a worthwhile risk. Castiel watches Gabriel's clothing return to its rightful place as he walks out, the shimmer of jet black wings in the dim light, and with a tensing of tightly muscled legs and a rustle of feathers, he is gone.
For the first time in an age, Castiel feels the absence of his own wings, and the pain as he slides to the floor is all too real.
He wishes he could follow.
Fandom: Legion/Supernatural
Pairing: Gabriel/Castiel
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Questionable consent.
Dedication: redrobin
Summary: Only archangels are truly unreadable.
There are no dramatics, no thunder and lightning to herald the archangel's appearance. Only an open motel door and the quiet pop of the kitchen light dying.
Castiel can only thank what little luck he has that Sam and Dean are hunting a werewolf, that they are not here to make the mistake of attempting confrontation.
Gabriel's vessel is appropriate for his needs, the clear strength of the human imposing enough even before considering how Gabriel had been forced to make adjustments to contain his form. Armour and weaponry like that could not be forged on Earth; and the wings of his true self refused to be hidden without any further use of energy. The air of the room was not cooling on account of any draft from outside; keeping angelic fire from burning everything in sight was no easy feat.
"You know why I am here," Gabriel says as he walks in, voice not entirely recognisable as human.
"I know." It takes everything in Castiel not to run, even if he knows full well the futility of trying to escape an archangel on foot.
Gabriel doesn't move like a lion or snake or wolf. There's no hunt in his eyes. He moves like a machine, cold, impassionate, driven by purpose and purpose alone. "Castiel, the blasphemer."
"I did not turn against God, I turned against my orders."
"A human distinction." Gabriel's eyes glitter with what little light they catch in spite of the dark, lifelessly beautiful like coal. "And you are not human."
"They cut off my wings," Castiel reminds, not daring to directly implore for mercy.
"And left you your grace." Gabriel steps forward and closes his fingers around Castiel's neck; Castiel grabs the offending hand with both his own but cannot remove it. "You were beautiful in your obedience. They will teach you its value again."
Gabriel lets go and shuts his eyes; in an instant the doors and windows shut, and what light had been allowed in from outside is cut off. It does not matter. Castiel knows there can be no escape from Gabriel; waits for pain to tear screams from his lungs, freezes still when Gabriel's hand comes to rest against the skin of his chest and drums lightly. It takes a moment for him to recognise the familiarity in the lack of rhythm to the drumming, its nature eluding him until he realises Gabriel is tapping with a speed human reflexes could not manage.
Morse code.
:Repeat: Castiel taps back.
:If I speak into your ears or your dreams they will hear. They are blind to this. I will not kill you:
:You were sent to punish me:
:Your faith lies with God. I serve Him. Not them. You need not say you consented:
Castiel shivers at the words unspoken, his voice feeling all at once too dry. :Human distinctions:
:Created by us:
Gabriel's fingers have no questions in them, no patience either, and they tear through Castiel's clothing as if the material were no stronger than cotton wool. Strange to think of a body that never belonged to him as exposed, but since Jimmy was dragged from the vessel to Heaven, Castiel has felt overly protective of it. The tie looped around his neck lies smooth against the bared skin of his chest, but he supposes it evens the score; Gabriel still wears his collar, undoubtedly has to so his loyalty to God cannot be questioned or denied.
In some ways he feels as if he shouldn't, but Castiel misses his own. Perhaps it is why he took the vessel and kept the tie.
Gabriel's hands move away for a moment and Castiel's nerves feel jarred at the sudden clamour of banging wood and crashing metal before he finds himself turned and shoved face down against the kitchen counter, slick liquid running over the base of his spine.
"Spread your legs," Gabriel snarls and Castiel obeys without thinking, forces himself not to sigh in relief when Gabriel's fingers smooth the oil down between them, pushing up inside him before there is a clattering of armour and the fingers are removed. Gabriel's left hand closes over his own, taps lightly once more. :This will hurt. Use that:
Castiel braces himself for an entirely different kind of pain now but lets himself cry out against it as Gabriel pushes in, the stretch and burn aching even if the hand closed over his own and the lips pressed cool against the back of his neck are a reassurance. It hurts just as much for the first few thrusts, but almost as soon as he starts to relax into it, he feels the tapping again.
:Protest. I will cover your mouth:
He doesn't want to be silent but knows he has to, taps only :Thank you: in return before saying, "Don't, you don't have t-" and Gabriel's free hand cuts him off. It doesn't completely allow him to cry out as he wishes, but it helps with any slips; and when he uses his own free hand to stroke his erection in clumsy but achingly good motions there are more slips than he'd expected.
Gabriel's own movements lack any sort of grace after long enough and Castiel feels a strange, misplaced pride at that. This is not truly his body; but even so, he closes his eyes to better concentrate on the sensations when Gabriel lets go of his hand to grip him by the hips and fuck him harder, yelling out when he comes in four short, sharp jerks.
Castiel does not complain about being left to find orgasm under his own devices. It is scarcely the punishment he had expected. He still aches when Gabriel pulls out and rests against him, breath ticklish and cool against his neck.
:You risk too much: Castiel taps after he has come, the kitchen counter and his stomach slick for now but soon to dry unpleasantly.
:Michael and Raphael have no interest in my destruction and are the only ones who possess strength enough. We serve Him. Not the whims of politics: A long pause, then, almost as if hesitant, :I am the strength of God. I fight for Him. I tire of petty punishments:
Castiel wishes he could find words to reassure, but there is little point in trying to tell an archangel what he already knows in prettier phrasing, and instead turns to press his forehead to Gabriel's. :I hope for His true command too: Castiel says, knowing this at least is honest, before tilting his head to press a chaste kiss to cold lips.
Gabriel's hands move lightly over his skin but Castiel can feel blood beneath being drawn to the surface, a promise of aches and hiding himself from Dean's eyes for days to come. :Let this satisfy them. I hope we meet under better terms in future:
:Go in peace:
Gabriel has to twist his laugh into something crueller before leaving, but it was a worthwhile risk. Castiel watches Gabriel's clothing return to its rightful place as he walks out, the shimmer of jet black wings in the dim light, and with a tensing of tightly muscled legs and a rustle of feathers, he is gone.
For the first time in an age, Castiel feels the absence of his own wings, and the pain as he slides to the floor is all too real.
He wishes he could follow.