oh when we're teetering on the edge of collapse, nothing can keep us down
Title: Fragile Tension
Author: eonism
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just here for the lulz.
Characters/Pairings: Crowley/Castiel (Supernatural)
Word Count: 2,456
Spoilers: 6x10
Author's notes: They never cleared up how things went down in "Caged Heat." This is how I see it.
Warnings: Blood, consent issues -- you remember what you're reading, right?
Summary: Putting the demon back together took considerably more effort than burning him alive.
Putting the demon back together took considerably more effort than burning him alive.
Castiel knew this from experience. He had disappeared reluctantly from Dean and Sam’s sides outside Crowley’s makeshift prison, set to the task of reviving him from the ashes left behind when he torched Crowley’s bones. Atoms had to be reassembled, molecules collected, cells arranged in the proper order to make up the vessel containing the demon. If Castiel were wholly honest with himself, in tune with every fiber that felt tired and angry and repentant, it seemed like a fool’s errand. A blessing perhaps, if only for a moment, in the tiny bit of satisfaction he felt in killing Crowley. Another time and place, he would have done it without a second thought. Today he had to watch his step.
With Crowley dead, truly dead, it meant Castiel was free of his obligations to him. He would no longer have to hide their deal from the Winchesters, and lie to his friends’ faces. Lie to Dean’s face, each time he prayed and asked Castiel for help, and couldn’t even get an answer as to where the angel had been. But with Crowley dead, there would be no finding Purgatory. No stopping Raphael. No winning the war. So Castiel brought Crowley back, and kept his feelings to himself.
Leaning against the wall, he didn’t watch Crowley dress, changing out of the scorched remains of his suit and vest. That would imply an intimacy they didn’t have and a fondness for the demon that Castiel didn’t possess. There was a provisional headquarters in Crowley’s monster prison, a third-floor administrator’s office that he had cleaned out, putting in lush furnishings and fixtures of his own for when he had to attend to his business topside. The sigils burned into the doorframes kept everyone and everything working under Crowley out, save the angel. It was the only thing that kept Castiel from feeling completely compromised by this arrangement, knowing no others would find him here. Find out of this.
At the bureau across the room, tying his tie, Crowley looked into the mirror seethed. Arms crossed by the door, Castiel couldn’t have cared less.
“So out of the plethora of ways to go about distracting your little pets, you decided burning my bones was the best course of action?” Crowley all but hissed. “Tell me, love, was that entirely necessary, or were you just having a laugh?”
“I brought you back.” Castiel didn’t bother looking at Crowley to answer him. “The Winchesters think you’re dead. They won’t be looking for you anymore, just as I told you.”
“No, you told me you would get rid of them, just like we talked about.”
“I did.”
“You torched me,” Crowley shouted across the room.
Castiel straightened up. “You survived.”
“Yes, this time.” Smoothing the creases from his vest, Crowley turned, walked up to Castiel. “But it’s not this time I’m worried about, Cas. It’s the next time you go behind my back and try to deep-fry me.”
“I won’t.”
“And you just expect me to trust you?” Crowley nearly laughed at that. “You see how you have me at a bit of a disadvantage here, don’t you? Hardly seems fair, especially since I can’t exactly return the favor.”
“We both got what we wanted.” Castiel leveled the demon a cold look. “Now go back to doing your job. I’ll do mine.”
Castiel’s tone brought Crowley up short. “I’m sorry, I must be hallucinating. Did you just give me an order? Because last time I checked, that’s not how this works.”
“I’m an angel, you’re a demon, and I can still put you in the ground if I have to,” Castiel said. “Don’t tempt me.”
“No. Actually, I’m the Devil, and we still have a deal.” Crowley got close to Castiel, the words hot on the angel’s neck, craning his head until Castiel finally recoiled. “And if you need to be reminded, sweetheart, I can throw you into the Pit for a little stroll down Memory Lane. See if you’re so plucky when the hounds’ve ripped your wings off and fucked you halfway to Sunday.”
The air began to pop and crackle, hissing with electricity. Catching Crowley off-guard Castiel grabbed him by the lapels and forced him back in a rush, across the room and into the wall with a crack of plaster and wood.
“Try it,” he warned, “and I’ll tear you apart.”
For it, Crowley sneered. “Do it. Then you don’t get what you want, and Raphael burns the whole world down. So tell me, how exactly does this little show of bravado benefit you in the end?”
After a moment, Castiel swallowed, letting go of the demon’s lapels.
“Or,” Crowley said, smoothing the new creases from his suit, “you can make it up to me, and we can put this whole ugly chapter behind us.”
Castiel sighed. “What do you want?”
“Oh, just the usual thing,” Crowley answered blithely. “World peace, a million dollars, my cock balls-deep in your self-righteous little ass.”
“No.” Anger made his voice tight. “Not that.”
“Your lips say No, but your contract says Yes, Yes, Yes.”
“I don’t have time for these games.” Halfway to the door, Castiel’s hands were in fists at his sides, fight-or-flight taking over in a very real way. “I did what you wanted. We’re done.”
“Who’s playing, kitten?”
Castiel said nothing. Crowley sighed.
“Please, spare me the pearl-clutching, Castiel,” he said. “I’ve been fucking you long enough to be well-past the point of surprise.”
“Crowley-”
When Castiel looked back, the demon was already bored of the exchange. When he was bored he got creative, finding novel things to try on the shifters and vampires locked up below. Making notes for future reference, looking up with vague amusement from the elbow-deep spill of entrails and splintered ribs on the slab in the basement. That Castiel knew from experience, too. It didn’t worry him - he would smite Crowley before he could even think to threaten something so foolish - and on another day, in another time he would have just disappeared. Left Crowley to his prisoners and dealt with his contracts and provisions and stipulations another time. Today he was just tired.
Taking a deep breath, Castiel finally straightened himself. “Fine.”
With that he brought them down through the floors to the autopsy table in the basement of Crowley’s prison. Crowley had him here more than once for sex, quick, sloppy encounters when the demon required it. Saliva-slick fingers, flicking tongues, the bruise of Crowley’s hands on him that never seemed to completely vanish, not really, still thrumming under the skin even after he blinked away the evidence. Castiel wasted no time now, grabbing Crowley by his shirt collar and pushing him back, their bodies hitting the edge of the table with a thud that rattled in both their ribcages. Crowley looked at first surprised, then pleased.
“You know, I love it when you get pushy, Cas,” he smirked. “It gets me all tingly.”
“Shut up.”
Gritting out the words Castiel dragged Crowley close in a biting kiss, all tongue and teeth and pressure. He removed the new jacket, opening the vest and letting them gather on the floor. Let the demon undress him, stripped of his trenchcoat and jacket, tie pulled free as a leash to dictate the depth of the kiss, the trajectory of Castiel’s hands. Taking a breath, Castiel leaned out of reach of Crowley’s nipping teeth.
“You look like you don’t trust me,” he said, only half-sarcastic. It was something Dean had taught him to do. Something Dean might be proud of, in another time and place.
“As a general rule, I don’t trust anyone, love,” Crowley answered,” but after your little magic trick with my mortal remains, I certainly don’t trust you.”
Without warning Crowley forced Castiel over onto his stomach, face-down over the edge of the table like a punch to the solar plexus. A hand between his shoulder blades pinned him, another snaking across his scalp to wrench his head back in a fistful of hair. He should have seen this coming and kicked himself for it.
“Nothing personal, you know,” Crowley breathed into his ear. “But you don’t get to be the King of Hell by making friends. Professional hazard.”
Castiel struggled back but Crowley held tightly, stronger than he had anticipated. Sometimes it still slipped his mind, the truth in the demon’s title and claim as the new Devil, the amount of power he was wielding now. For it, Crowley let out a soft purr of laughter.
“That’s more like it.” A flex of his hips slotted his dick against Castiel’s ass, digging through the fabric of their trousers. “Put me back together a little too well, I take it? What a shame.”
A hand moved down Castiel’s back, slow and teasing to his tailbone, then reaching around to undo his belt-buckle. The touch pulled an unwelcomed shiver from him, ending with a clench of his teeth and a grip on the table’s edge, trying to assure some leverage in this. Crowley rid him of his belt and opened his trousers, sliding a hand inside to wrap around the base of his shaft and tug until Castiel let out a tight, choked noise. With a contented murmur, Crowley leaned against Castiel’s back to teethe at the line of his neck and down to his shoulder, leaving the skin red and bruised.
“What’s the matter, love? Not so chatty anymore?”
Castiel closed his eyes, angled his head away from the contact. “You talk enough for the both of us.”
“I can’t help that I’m witty. It’s one of my many endearing qualities.” Another angle of Crowley’s hips and he rubbed his erection into the angel’s ass, teasing and hard. Castiel grunted and stroking his dick, Crowley smirked. “You know I love it when you get loud for me.”
“Go to Hell, Crowley,” Castiel rasped. Eyes closed, mouth open in a concentrated effort not to enjoy it, no matter how his dick jumped and ticked at the attention.
“Love to. We’ll do lunch sometime. The rack of virgin’s actually not bad.” Reaching lower, Crowley took the angel by the sac, squeezing and fondling until he was bucking forward with a moan. “But first I want you to come for me.”
“You flatter yourself.”
“And you seem to forget that you still owe me.”
“Actually.” In a breath Castiel vanished from his capture. He rematerialized behind Crowley and pinned him to the table instead, slamming his face down on the surface if only to hear the satisfying crack. “I don’t.”
“You know, all these little party tricks are indicative of our relationship problems,” Crowley gritted out into the steel, “in that you can be a shady little cunt when you want to be.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment coming from you?” Castiel asked, reaching for a handful of hair and yanking hard enough to get the demon’s attention.
“Take that however you like, dear,” Crowley said with a grunt. He took a breath, squared himself. “But what, pray tell, do you think you’re doing?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Again, shady cunt. Why?”
“Because when I tell you I’ve taken care of a problem,” Castiel said into Crowley’s ear, “I expect that to be the end of the discussion.”
“And if you decide to torch me again? What, am I just supposed to give you a kiss and say Thank you, Daddy, let’s have another? Because your leverage in the situation doesn’t exactly sit well with me.”
“You should show me some respect.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Crowley smirked. “Whores have to earn it.”
The hand in the demon’s hair tightened. “The only reason you’re alive is because you’re useful. Don’t forget that.”
“And I used to say the same thing about you. Funny how these things work out, isn’t it?”
Castiel took a deep breath but said nothing. He let Crowley go in a shove, reaching to gather his jacket and trenchcoat from the ground. Behind him, Crowley turned, opening his belt with a sigh.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“No,” Castiel snapped, straightening himself up as he had countless times before, smoothing away the signs of their encounters. The rumples in his clothes, the smell of breath in his hair, the pressure of fingerprints wiped clean.
“That’s not what your contract says,” Crowley said lightly, a thumb resting on the button of his trousers. “And you’re the one talking about building trust.”
“No.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll have to take it out of somebody else’s ass, then. Maybe I’ll go find out where your Boy Wonder is holing up, see if he likes taking my dick as much as you do.” Crowley shrugged. “And, you know, whatever else I come up with.”
Castiel stopped and looked away, swallowing hard. Crowley just smiled.
“So why don’t you just come over here like a good little whore and we’ll forget the whole thing ever happened?”
Hate made a hot coil of Castiel’s gut, carrying him forward to kiss the demon, a forceful show of compliance marked by biting teeth and a hard ply of tongue. Even for it Crowley still smiled, a satisfaction Castiel could practically taste between their mouths until, biting down on Crowley’s bottom lip, he tasted blood instead. Fingers snaked back across his scalp and wrenched him back, breaking the kiss in an unintended gasp.
“Are you going to be nice this time?” Crowley asked, red smeared across his mouth.
Swallowing, Castiel said nothing. Instead he got to his knees, opening the demon’s trousers and taking him out, fingers wrapped around the base and behind the head of the fat red shaft. He closed his eyes, circling his tongue around the tip of it then up and under, the way he knew made Crowley’s breath quicken, tight under his collar when he tried to control it. Never wanting to seem too eager, too engrossed, too unguarded. It was always such a careful balance between the two of them, a tight-rope of mistrust. One day it would snap. Castiel could only try to make sure he was on the right side of it when it did.
The hand on his scalp loosened but held his head close, ready to react if needed, to pull him away for biting again or strike him. Castiel didn’t care which, and when he looked up to rake his teeth across the head of Crowley’s dick, the look of distrust on the demon’s face flickered with the first edges of alarm. The same way it did when he set fire to Crowley’s bones. At that, Castiel smiled if only for a moment, and swallowed Crowley until he came.
Author: eonism
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just here for the lulz.
Characters/Pairings: Crowley/Castiel (Supernatural)
Word Count: 2,456
Spoilers: 6x10
Author's notes: They never cleared up how things went down in "Caged Heat." This is how I see it.
Warnings: Blood, consent issues -- you remember what you're reading, right?
Summary: Putting the demon back together took considerably more effort than burning him alive.
Putting the demon back together took considerably more effort than burning him alive.
Castiel knew this from experience. He had disappeared reluctantly from Dean and Sam’s sides outside Crowley’s makeshift prison, set to the task of reviving him from the ashes left behind when he torched Crowley’s bones. Atoms had to be reassembled, molecules collected, cells arranged in the proper order to make up the vessel containing the demon. If Castiel were wholly honest with himself, in tune with every fiber that felt tired and angry and repentant, it seemed like a fool’s errand. A blessing perhaps, if only for a moment, in the tiny bit of satisfaction he felt in killing Crowley. Another time and place, he would have done it without a second thought. Today he had to watch his step.
With Crowley dead, truly dead, it meant Castiel was free of his obligations to him. He would no longer have to hide their deal from the Winchesters, and lie to his friends’ faces. Lie to Dean’s face, each time he prayed and asked Castiel for help, and couldn’t even get an answer as to where the angel had been. But with Crowley dead, there would be no finding Purgatory. No stopping Raphael. No winning the war. So Castiel brought Crowley back, and kept his feelings to himself.
Leaning against the wall, he didn’t watch Crowley dress, changing out of the scorched remains of his suit and vest. That would imply an intimacy they didn’t have and a fondness for the demon that Castiel didn’t possess. There was a provisional headquarters in Crowley’s monster prison, a third-floor administrator’s office that he had cleaned out, putting in lush furnishings and fixtures of his own for when he had to attend to his business topside. The sigils burned into the doorframes kept everyone and everything working under Crowley out, save the angel. It was the only thing that kept Castiel from feeling completely compromised by this arrangement, knowing no others would find him here. Find out of this.
At the bureau across the room, tying his tie, Crowley looked into the mirror seethed. Arms crossed by the door, Castiel couldn’t have cared less.
“So out of the plethora of ways to go about distracting your little pets, you decided burning my bones was the best course of action?” Crowley all but hissed. “Tell me, love, was that entirely necessary, or were you just having a laugh?”
“I brought you back.” Castiel didn’t bother looking at Crowley to answer him. “The Winchesters think you’re dead. They won’t be looking for you anymore, just as I told you.”
“No, you told me you would get rid of them, just like we talked about.”
“I did.”
“You torched me,” Crowley shouted across the room.
Castiel straightened up. “You survived.”
“Yes, this time.” Smoothing the creases from his vest, Crowley turned, walked up to Castiel. “But it’s not this time I’m worried about, Cas. It’s the next time you go behind my back and try to deep-fry me.”
“I won’t.”
“And you just expect me to trust you?” Crowley nearly laughed at that. “You see how you have me at a bit of a disadvantage here, don’t you? Hardly seems fair, especially since I can’t exactly return the favor.”
“We both got what we wanted.” Castiel leveled the demon a cold look. “Now go back to doing your job. I’ll do mine.”
Castiel’s tone brought Crowley up short. “I’m sorry, I must be hallucinating. Did you just give me an order? Because last time I checked, that’s not how this works.”
“I’m an angel, you’re a demon, and I can still put you in the ground if I have to,” Castiel said. “Don’t tempt me.”
“No. Actually, I’m the Devil, and we still have a deal.” Crowley got close to Castiel, the words hot on the angel’s neck, craning his head until Castiel finally recoiled. “And if you need to be reminded, sweetheart, I can throw you into the Pit for a little stroll down Memory Lane. See if you’re so plucky when the hounds’ve ripped your wings off and fucked you halfway to Sunday.”
The air began to pop and crackle, hissing with electricity. Catching Crowley off-guard Castiel grabbed him by the lapels and forced him back in a rush, across the room and into the wall with a crack of plaster and wood.
“Try it,” he warned, “and I’ll tear you apart.”
For it, Crowley sneered. “Do it. Then you don’t get what you want, and Raphael burns the whole world down. So tell me, how exactly does this little show of bravado benefit you in the end?”
After a moment, Castiel swallowed, letting go of the demon’s lapels.
“Or,” Crowley said, smoothing the new creases from his suit, “you can make it up to me, and we can put this whole ugly chapter behind us.”
Castiel sighed. “What do you want?”
“Oh, just the usual thing,” Crowley answered blithely. “World peace, a million dollars, my cock balls-deep in your self-righteous little ass.”
“No.” Anger made his voice tight. “Not that.”
“Your lips say No, but your contract says Yes, Yes, Yes.”
“I don’t have time for these games.” Halfway to the door, Castiel’s hands were in fists at his sides, fight-or-flight taking over in a very real way. “I did what you wanted. We’re done.”
“Who’s playing, kitten?”
Castiel said nothing. Crowley sighed.
“Please, spare me the pearl-clutching, Castiel,” he said. “I’ve been fucking you long enough to be well-past the point of surprise.”
“Crowley-”
When Castiel looked back, the demon was already bored of the exchange. When he was bored he got creative, finding novel things to try on the shifters and vampires locked up below. Making notes for future reference, looking up with vague amusement from the elbow-deep spill of entrails and splintered ribs on the slab in the basement. That Castiel knew from experience, too. It didn’t worry him - he would smite Crowley before he could even think to threaten something so foolish - and on another day, in another time he would have just disappeared. Left Crowley to his prisoners and dealt with his contracts and provisions and stipulations another time. Today he was just tired.
Taking a deep breath, Castiel finally straightened himself. “Fine.”
With that he brought them down through the floors to the autopsy table in the basement of Crowley’s prison. Crowley had him here more than once for sex, quick, sloppy encounters when the demon required it. Saliva-slick fingers, flicking tongues, the bruise of Crowley’s hands on him that never seemed to completely vanish, not really, still thrumming under the skin even after he blinked away the evidence. Castiel wasted no time now, grabbing Crowley by his shirt collar and pushing him back, their bodies hitting the edge of the table with a thud that rattled in both their ribcages. Crowley looked at first surprised, then pleased.
“You know, I love it when you get pushy, Cas,” he smirked. “It gets me all tingly.”
“Shut up.”
Gritting out the words Castiel dragged Crowley close in a biting kiss, all tongue and teeth and pressure. He removed the new jacket, opening the vest and letting them gather on the floor. Let the demon undress him, stripped of his trenchcoat and jacket, tie pulled free as a leash to dictate the depth of the kiss, the trajectory of Castiel’s hands. Taking a breath, Castiel leaned out of reach of Crowley’s nipping teeth.
“You look like you don’t trust me,” he said, only half-sarcastic. It was something Dean had taught him to do. Something Dean might be proud of, in another time and place.
“As a general rule, I don’t trust anyone, love,” Crowley answered,” but after your little magic trick with my mortal remains, I certainly don’t trust you.”
Without warning Crowley forced Castiel over onto his stomach, face-down over the edge of the table like a punch to the solar plexus. A hand between his shoulder blades pinned him, another snaking across his scalp to wrench his head back in a fistful of hair. He should have seen this coming and kicked himself for it.
“Nothing personal, you know,” Crowley breathed into his ear. “But you don’t get to be the King of Hell by making friends. Professional hazard.”
Castiel struggled back but Crowley held tightly, stronger than he had anticipated. Sometimes it still slipped his mind, the truth in the demon’s title and claim as the new Devil, the amount of power he was wielding now. For it, Crowley let out a soft purr of laughter.
“That’s more like it.” A flex of his hips slotted his dick against Castiel’s ass, digging through the fabric of their trousers. “Put me back together a little too well, I take it? What a shame.”
A hand moved down Castiel’s back, slow and teasing to his tailbone, then reaching around to undo his belt-buckle. The touch pulled an unwelcomed shiver from him, ending with a clench of his teeth and a grip on the table’s edge, trying to assure some leverage in this. Crowley rid him of his belt and opened his trousers, sliding a hand inside to wrap around the base of his shaft and tug until Castiel let out a tight, choked noise. With a contented murmur, Crowley leaned against Castiel’s back to teethe at the line of his neck and down to his shoulder, leaving the skin red and bruised.
“What’s the matter, love? Not so chatty anymore?”
Castiel closed his eyes, angled his head away from the contact. “You talk enough for the both of us.”
“I can’t help that I’m witty. It’s one of my many endearing qualities.” Another angle of Crowley’s hips and he rubbed his erection into the angel’s ass, teasing and hard. Castiel grunted and stroking his dick, Crowley smirked. “You know I love it when you get loud for me.”
“Go to Hell, Crowley,” Castiel rasped. Eyes closed, mouth open in a concentrated effort not to enjoy it, no matter how his dick jumped and ticked at the attention.
“Love to. We’ll do lunch sometime. The rack of virgin’s actually not bad.” Reaching lower, Crowley took the angel by the sac, squeezing and fondling until he was bucking forward with a moan. “But first I want you to come for me.”
“You flatter yourself.”
“And you seem to forget that you still owe me.”
“Actually.” In a breath Castiel vanished from his capture. He rematerialized behind Crowley and pinned him to the table instead, slamming his face down on the surface if only to hear the satisfying crack. “I don’t.”
“You know, all these little party tricks are indicative of our relationship problems,” Crowley gritted out into the steel, “in that you can be a shady little cunt when you want to be.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment coming from you?” Castiel asked, reaching for a handful of hair and yanking hard enough to get the demon’s attention.
“Take that however you like, dear,” Crowley said with a grunt. He took a breath, squared himself. “But what, pray tell, do you think you’re doing?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Again, shady cunt. Why?”
“Because when I tell you I’ve taken care of a problem,” Castiel said into Crowley’s ear, “I expect that to be the end of the discussion.”
“And if you decide to torch me again? What, am I just supposed to give you a kiss and say Thank you, Daddy, let’s have another? Because your leverage in the situation doesn’t exactly sit well with me.”
“You should show me some respect.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Crowley smirked. “Whores have to earn it.”
The hand in the demon’s hair tightened. “The only reason you’re alive is because you’re useful. Don’t forget that.”
“And I used to say the same thing about you. Funny how these things work out, isn’t it?”
Castiel took a deep breath but said nothing. He let Crowley go in a shove, reaching to gather his jacket and trenchcoat from the ground. Behind him, Crowley turned, opening his belt with a sigh.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“No,” Castiel snapped, straightening himself up as he had countless times before, smoothing away the signs of their encounters. The rumples in his clothes, the smell of breath in his hair, the pressure of fingerprints wiped clean.
“That’s not what your contract says,” Crowley said lightly, a thumb resting on the button of his trousers. “And you’re the one talking about building trust.”
“No.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll have to take it out of somebody else’s ass, then. Maybe I’ll go find out where your Boy Wonder is holing up, see if he likes taking my dick as much as you do.” Crowley shrugged. “And, you know, whatever else I come up with.”
Castiel stopped and looked away, swallowing hard. Crowley just smiled.
“So why don’t you just come over here like a good little whore and we’ll forget the whole thing ever happened?”
Hate made a hot coil of Castiel’s gut, carrying him forward to kiss the demon, a forceful show of compliance marked by biting teeth and a hard ply of tongue. Even for it Crowley still smiled, a satisfaction Castiel could practically taste between their mouths until, biting down on Crowley’s bottom lip, he tasted blood instead. Fingers snaked back across his scalp and wrenched him back, breaking the kiss in an unintended gasp.
“Are you going to be nice this time?” Crowley asked, red smeared across his mouth.
Swallowing, Castiel said nothing. Instead he got to his knees, opening the demon’s trousers and taking him out, fingers wrapped around the base and behind the head of the fat red shaft. He closed his eyes, circling his tongue around the tip of it then up and under, the way he knew made Crowley’s breath quicken, tight under his collar when he tried to control it. Never wanting to seem too eager, too engrossed, too unguarded. It was always such a careful balance between the two of them, a tight-rope of mistrust. One day it would snap. Castiel could only try to make sure he was on the right side of it when it did.
The hand on his scalp loosened but held his head close, ready to react if needed, to pull him away for biting again or strike him. Castiel didn’t care which, and when he looked up to rake his teeth across the head of Crowley’s dick, the look of distrust on the demon’s face flickered with the first edges of alarm. The same way it did when he set fire to Crowley’s bones. At that, Castiel smiled if only for a moment, and swallowed Crowley until he came.