SPN Fic: Break The Back Of Love (Castiel/Meg; NC17)
Title: Break The Back Of Love
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Castiel/Meg
Word Count: ~2k
Prompt(s): Written for spnkink-meme for the prompt: Purgatory changes Cas. He becomes feral while he’s there, and when he gets out, his first instinct is to mate. He hunts down Meg and roughly fucks her on the floor/against the wall/on furniture until he calms down enough to remember who she is, and who he is, slowly becoming himself again.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, painplay/masochism, bondage (chains), Hell, canon typical violence and mentions of torture.
Summary: Castiel escapes from Purgatory and after spending so long being feral, he goes after his most base desire.
At first she can’t tell what the commotion is. There aren’t alarms or locked doors in hell; it is organized in its chaos. They didn’t need guards or sentries, there were rules, no spoiling other people’s fun and no fucking with the King. And she was the King’s fun right now, so nobody would dare lift a finger to help her. Not the demons who had previously worked for her or the ones she’d spent empty decades fucking. So she ignored the fuss outside their imagined walls, just like the rest of them did.
There were three spare demons, mostly to intimidate her but every so often Crowley would want to watch rather than get his hands dirty himself. Which was fine with her, she was bored of teasing a brick wall of stony silence.
She’d been stripped naked, bound in her vessel, that poor girl from Cheboygan, Meg couldn’t even remember her name now. She only remembered Meg because people kept shouting it at her. Her wrists were wrapped in a length of chain dangling from the ceiling, pulled high above her head, straining her shoulders but that was a small pain, one she barely noticed anymore. They hadn’t chained her legs at first, which they decided was a mistake when she kicked and screamed at anyone who passed within reaching distance of her feet. As soon as they could hold her still, they righted that, chaining her ankles to the floor. A mild annoyance but one that she could live with.
It was his damn blunt blades that she hated. They weren’t proper knives and they couldn’t even make proper cuts. It was like being slowly hacked to pieces with a butter knife. Infuriatingly slow and pointless. No fun at all. And that’s why he chose them, to frustrate her, make her impatient, make her beg for real torture. Every demon worth his salt knew how much she liked it. And so Crowley ruined it for her, only giving her a very different, very petty torture she didn’t like the taste of.
The guards wore proper knives in their belts, just in case and every so often her eyes would drift down to them and she’d long for the kiss of proper metal. Crowley had been called away and she was sure she could break at least one of them, maybe all of them judging by the fact they spent less time watching the door than they did watching her tits. They wouldn’t let her go but they might give her a little of what she wanted.
She leaned forward, as far as the chains would let her. “Hey, what do you say I play mouse while the fat cat’s gone.” Her eyes glanced down at the knife again. “You can stick it in anywhere you like; I promise I won’t scream too loudly.”
Two of the guards were indifferent and unmoved, the other went pink and looked away, making Meg shake with laughter.
“Really, a blushing demon? What are they making you guys out of these days?” Meg sighed to herself, trying to appear serious again. “I was talking about the pretty steel you got there but if you work up the balls to stick something else in me, you let me know.”
Meg laughed to herself again, knowing she’d be able to entertain herself for foreseeable future purely by watching him squirm. She’d contented herself to stare at him while he refused to look at her until she was distracted by the walls shaking.
“I haven’t visited for a while; remind me are they meant to do that?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Nobody answered her but their eyes screamed a resounding no. “Well, this should be interesting.”
There was a crash and one of the walls that had been standing a second before had seemingly collapsed of its own accord. A few seconds later the shadow of wings dominated the remaining walls and she caught sight of a battered trench coat trailing behind it’s even scruffier owner.
“Clarence?!” She leaned forward in her chains, trying to get a better look at him, he was barely recognizable. “Where the fuck have you been?”
He ignored her, his attention focused on the guards. In the situation she was in she shouldn’t have cared but her pride suffered a dent, she was standing wearing nothing but her skin and it hadn’t even gotten her a glance.
“Hello?” She shouted over to him, wincing as one demon exploded into light. “No?” Another one stepped up to take the dead one’s place. “I’ll just hang here then.” She rattled her chain for emphasis as the second guard fell, leaving only the green one, the one who’d blushed. “You can leave him, he’s harmless. Come and get me.” She tried again and this time he spared her a glance, his eyes wild and a growl in his throat.
The last guard fell and his attention turned to her. She saw him properly for the first time since he’d walked in. His coat was torn, his hospital scrubs were so dirty she would have had trouble convincing anyone they had once been white, and blood and dirt was streaked across his face like war paint. He growled at her again and she jumped, her body set on edge by the feral look in his eyes.
“What happened to you?” She asked, barely above a whisper, her own escape forgotten.
He didn’t answer her, of course, but he took a few steps towards her.
“Clarence, is that even you in there?” She asked as his eyes roamed over her body, more openly than he would have ever dared.
His eyes darted back up to her face. “Castiel!” he said threateningly, his voice like sand paper, even more so than it used to be.
“Alright! Castiel then.” She snapped back, not giving an inch over to fear. If he wanted to kill her she would have been dead already. He wanted something else. He looked her up and down, evaluating the chains, every step surer of itself. “You want me?”
He growled again, stooping down when he reached her and wrapping one of the chains that held her ankles around his fist. He pulled it free of the concrete like it was tissue paper. She decided that was his way of saying yes.
“Then take me. Have me. I’m yours. Do what you want with me.” She looked down as her other ankle was ripped free, the impatience and frustration from Crowley’s games finally finding an outlet. He stood and she followed him with her eyes, trying to work out what he would do. “C’mon, Clarence.”
His head snapped up, glaring at her again. Meg sighed, convinced he wasn’t going to make a move but before she’d even finished thinking that thought, he moved faster than her eyes could follow, closing the gap between them. His mouth collided with hers, hard enough to bruise, his teeth biting her bottom lip, demanding she let him in, which she did willingly. His hands slid over her skin, her blood mixing with the dirt on his palms, leaving trails up and down her body. One of his hands found her breast, dragging his nails over the skin, catching her nipple and making her gasp against his lips.
She pulled at the chains holding her hands, longing to get some scratches in of her own but it was beyond her power to pull herself free, not from silver. All she could do was hang there, push her body into his and watch what he did with it. His hand slipped down over her stomach, making the muscles jump, stopping just before her hip. He glanced up at her again and there was an air of calm alongside the wildness. She didn’t know if he even wanted permission or encouragement but she found herself nodding, willing his hand lower. Each touch made her arch forward into it, the cold metal biting at her wrists, forbidding her to go any further.
“Come on, Clarence.” She said again, not even on purpose, the words just slipped out.
He growled, low and harsh, and grabbed by the hips, lifting her from the floor and shoving her roughly into the wall behind her. The length of chain loosened, barely enough for her to reach his shoulder with her hands and brace herself against him as he pushed inside her. She didn’t bother to ask what she’d missed in the blink of an eye; she just wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and held on for all she was worth.
His nails dragged from her hips down her thighs, leaving red lines where blood was seeping out, her vessel too fragile for his touch. His teeth sank down into her neck and she was sure he had broken the skin there too, claiming her for his own like they were animals. All the pain, the burn of her tight cunt trying to accommodate him, the blood welling wherever his fingers had been, the stone scraping the skin from her back, it was all excruciating agony, what she imagined being smited would feel like but it was the highest she’d felt since they’d dragged her sorry ass back to Hell.
“Harder.” She begged him, Hell healed all wounds, otherwise where would the fun be, and she wanted to hold on to the pain. “Please.”
“Stop talking.” Castiel’s eyes flicked up to her and to her surprise they had lost almost all of their wildness, like he was pouring whatever trauma had made him like that into her. She wanted to laugh and say how about that, Angel, cleansed by a demon’s cunt, you’ve found your grace between my legs but the words stuck on her tongue, turned to nonsensical moans as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked it, making her expose her neck to is bared teeth. She didn’t feel him bite down this time though; the threat was enough to push her over the edge, turning every pain into sparks. He could have torn her limb from limb, he could have drowned her in holy fire and she’d still be screaming his name out in pleasure.
When she came down, she was back on the floor again, the chains the only thing keeping her standing. She could feel his come dripping down the insides of her thighs, not pure or magical, just warm and wet like that of a human. It felt almost odd that neither of them owned the bodies they were using and yet they had managed to be so thoroughly owned by each other. It was almost poetry.
“We need to go.” Castiel told her, finally pulling down her remaining chains, freeing her.
“Give a girl a minute, Clarence.” She muttered, her back resting against the wall, not sure her legs could support her yet.
“We need to go. Now.” He said, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder.
“Castiel, put me down.” She said using her best commanding voice, the one that had worked so well when she’d been his unwilling babysitter, only to be ignored. “Castiel!”
She was silenced by dark shadows on every remaining wall, his wings unfurling and beating together. She screwed her eyes shut, sure that she didn’t want to see Hell and Earth hurling passed her at the speed of light. When she felt Castiel lower her down, she opened them again to find herself still naked and filthy but now on the snow white sheets of a motel room bed.
“I apologize for what just occurred.” Castiel said, staring at the wall behind her. “It was uncivilized, I haven’t been anywhere civilized for a while and I fear base instinct got the better of me.”
“And here I thought you were finally becoming fun.” Meg raised her eyebrows, reclining back on the bed. “Besides, what’s a bit of uncivilized, base, instinctive sex between frenemies?”
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Castiel/Meg
Word Count: ~2k
Prompt(s): Written for spnkink-meme for the prompt: Purgatory changes Cas. He becomes feral while he’s there, and when he gets out, his first instinct is to mate. He hunts down Meg and roughly fucks her on the floor/against the wall/on furniture until he calms down enough to remember who she is, and who he is, slowly becoming himself again.
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, painplay/masochism, bondage (chains), Hell, canon typical violence and mentions of torture.
Summary: Castiel escapes from Purgatory and after spending so long being feral, he goes after his most base desire.
At first she can’t tell what the commotion is. There aren’t alarms or locked doors in hell; it is organized in its chaos. They didn’t need guards or sentries, there were rules, no spoiling other people’s fun and no fucking with the King. And she was the King’s fun right now, so nobody would dare lift a finger to help her. Not the demons who had previously worked for her or the ones she’d spent empty decades fucking. So she ignored the fuss outside their imagined walls, just like the rest of them did.
There were three spare demons, mostly to intimidate her but every so often Crowley would want to watch rather than get his hands dirty himself. Which was fine with her, she was bored of teasing a brick wall of stony silence.
She’d been stripped naked, bound in her vessel, that poor girl from Cheboygan, Meg couldn’t even remember her name now. She only remembered Meg because people kept shouting it at her. Her wrists were wrapped in a length of chain dangling from the ceiling, pulled high above her head, straining her shoulders but that was a small pain, one she barely noticed anymore. They hadn’t chained her legs at first, which they decided was a mistake when she kicked and screamed at anyone who passed within reaching distance of her feet. As soon as they could hold her still, they righted that, chaining her ankles to the floor. A mild annoyance but one that she could live with.
It was his damn blunt blades that she hated. They weren’t proper knives and they couldn’t even make proper cuts. It was like being slowly hacked to pieces with a butter knife. Infuriatingly slow and pointless. No fun at all. And that’s why he chose them, to frustrate her, make her impatient, make her beg for real torture. Every demon worth his salt knew how much she liked it. And so Crowley ruined it for her, only giving her a very different, very petty torture she didn’t like the taste of.
The guards wore proper knives in their belts, just in case and every so often her eyes would drift down to them and she’d long for the kiss of proper metal. Crowley had been called away and she was sure she could break at least one of them, maybe all of them judging by the fact they spent less time watching the door than they did watching her tits. They wouldn’t let her go but they might give her a little of what she wanted.
She leaned forward, as far as the chains would let her. “Hey, what do you say I play mouse while the fat cat’s gone.” Her eyes glanced down at the knife again. “You can stick it in anywhere you like; I promise I won’t scream too loudly.”
Two of the guards were indifferent and unmoved, the other went pink and looked away, making Meg shake with laughter.
“Really, a blushing demon? What are they making you guys out of these days?” Meg sighed to herself, trying to appear serious again. “I was talking about the pretty steel you got there but if you work up the balls to stick something else in me, you let me know.”
Meg laughed to herself again, knowing she’d be able to entertain herself for foreseeable future purely by watching him squirm. She’d contented herself to stare at him while he refused to look at her until she was distracted by the walls shaking.
“I haven’t visited for a while; remind me are they meant to do that?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Nobody answered her but their eyes screamed a resounding no. “Well, this should be interesting.”
There was a crash and one of the walls that had been standing a second before had seemingly collapsed of its own accord. A few seconds later the shadow of wings dominated the remaining walls and she caught sight of a battered trench coat trailing behind it’s even scruffier owner.
“Clarence?!” She leaned forward in her chains, trying to get a better look at him, he was barely recognizable. “Where the fuck have you been?”
He ignored her, his attention focused on the guards. In the situation she was in she shouldn’t have cared but her pride suffered a dent, she was standing wearing nothing but her skin and it hadn’t even gotten her a glance.
“Hello?” She shouted over to him, wincing as one demon exploded into light. “No?” Another one stepped up to take the dead one’s place. “I’ll just hang here then.” She rattled her chain for emphasis as the second guard fell, leaving only the green one, the one who’d blushed. “You can leave him, he’s harmless. Come and get me.” She tried again and this time he spared her a glance, his eyes wild and a growl in his throat.
The last guard fell and his attention turned to her. She saw him properly for the first time since he’d walked in. His coat was torn, his hospital scrubs were so dirty she would have had trouble convincing anyone they had once been white, and blood and dirt was streaked across his face like war paint. He growled at her again and she jumped, her body set on edge by the feral look in his eyes.
“What happened to you?” She asked, barely above a whisper, her own escape forgotten.
He didn’t answer her, of course, but he took a few steps towards her.
“Clarence, is that even you in there?” She asked as his eyes roamed over her body, more openly than he would have ever dared.
His eyes darted back up to her face. “Castiel!” he said threateningly, his voice like sand paper, even more so than it used to be.
“Alright! Castiel then.” She snapped back, not giving an inch over to fear. If he wanted to kill her she would have been dead already. He wanted something else. He looked her up and down, evaluating the chains, every step surer of itself. “You want me?”
He growled again, stooping down when he reached her and wrapping one of the chains that held her ankles around his fist. He pulled it free of the concrete like it was tissue paper. She decided that was his way of saying yes.
“Then take me. Have me. I’m yours. Do what you want with me.” She looked down as her other ankle was ripped free, the impatience and frustration from Crowley’s games finally finding an outlet. He stood and she followed him with her eyes, trying to work out what he would do. “C’mon, Clarence.”
His head snapped up, glaring at her again. Meg sighed, convinced he wasn’t going to make a move but before she’d even finished thinking that thought, he moved faster than her eyes could follow, closing the gap between them. His mouth collided with hers, hard enough to bruise, his teeth biting her bottom lip, demanding she let him in, which she did willingly. His hands slid over her skin, her blood mixing with the dirt on his palms, leaving trails up and down her body. One of his hands found her breast, dragging his nails over the skin, catching her nipple and making her gasp against his lips.
She pulled at the chains holding her hands, longing to get some scratches in of her own but it was beyond her power to pull herself free, not from silver. All she could do was hang there, push her body into his and watch what he did with it. His hand slipped down over her stomach, making the muscles jump, stopping just before her hip. He glanced up at her again and there was an air of calm alongside the wildness. She didn’t know if he even wanted permission or encouragement but she found herself nodding, willing his hand lower. Each touch made her arch forward into it, the cold metal biting at her wrists, forbidding her to go any further.
“Come on, Clarence.” She said again, not even on purpose, the words just slipped out.
He growled, low and harsh, and grabbed by the hips, lifting her from the floor and shoving her roughly into the wall behind her. The length of chain loosened, barely enough for her to reach his shoulder with her hands and brace herself against him as he pushed inside her. She didn’t bother to ask what she’d missed in the blink of an eye; she just wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and held on for all she was worth.
His nails dragged from her hips down her thighs, leaving red lines where blood was seeping out, her vessel too fragile for his touch. His teeth sank down into her neck and she was sure he had broken the skin there too, claiming her for his own like they were animals. All the pain, the burn of her tight cunt trying to accommodate him, the blood welling wherever his fingers had been, the stone scraping the skin from her back, it was all excruciating agony, what she imagined being smited would feel like but it was the highest she’d felt since they’d dragged her sorry ass back to Hell.
“Harder.” She begged him, Hell healed all wounds, otherwise where would the fun be, and she wanted to hold on to the pain. “Please.”
“Stop talking.” Castiel’s eyes flicked up to her and to her surprise they had lost almost all of their wildness, like he was pouring whatever trauma had made him like that into her. She wanted to laugh and say how about that, Angel, cleansed by a demon’s cunt, you’ve found your grace between my legs but the words stuck on her tongue, turned to nonsensical moans as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked it, making her expose her neck to is bared teeth. She didn’t feel him bite down this time though; the threat was enough to push her over the edge, turning every pain into sparks. He could have torn her limb from limb, he could have drowned her in holy fire and she’d still be screaming his name out in pleasure.
When she came down, she was back on the floor again, the chains the only thing keeping her standing. She could feel his come dripping down the insides of her thighs, not pure or magical, just warm and wet like that of a human. It felt almost odd that neither of them owned the bodies they were using and yet they had managed to be so thoroughly owned by each other. It was almost poetry.
“We need to go.” Castiel told her, finally pulling down her remaining chains, freeing her.
“Give a girl a minute, Clarence.” She muttered, her back resting against the wall, not sure her legs could support her yet.
“We need to go. Now.” He said, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder.
“Castiel, put me down.” She said using her best commanding voice, the one that had worked so well when she’d been his unwilling babysitter, only to be ignored. “Castiel!”
She was silenced by dark shadows on every remaining wall, his wings unfurling and beating together. She screwed her eyes shut, sure that she didn’t want to see Hell and Earth hurling passed her at the speed of light. When she felt Castiel lower her down, she opened them again to find herself still naked and filthy but now on the snow white sheets of a motel room bed.
“I apologize for what just occurred.” Castiel said, staring at the wall behind her. “It was uncivilized, I haven’t been anywhere civilized for a while and I fear base instinct got the better of me.”
“And here I thought you were finally becoming fun.” Meg raised her eyebrows, reclining back on the bed. “Besides, what’s a bit of uncivilized, base, instinctive sex between frenemies?”