Disclaimer: All materials belong to their respectful owners. Any and all of the following written is completely, one-hundred percent, fan-written and I claim no profit for it what so ever.
Summary: Alastair has never experienced the purest gift of Heaven, nor has Castiel felt the true excruciation of Hell. Amazing what a few drops of blood can do... (Rated T but with Suggestive Themes and Violence)
Pairings: Castiel/Alastair
Author's Note: So I've just been itching lately to write some sort of controversial angel and demon slashy undertone kind of fic—alas, I give you my masterpiece (or lack thereof ^_^)! Anyhow, this was actually inspired by my dearest sister. Though born a 90's child, she's a 1960's hippy reincarnation, Lord bless her. She was listening to the song Lay Down by Melanie the other day, and it was this particular set of lyrics which really caught my eye:
We were so close there was no room
We bled inside each other's wounds
We all had caught the same disease
We all sang the songs of peace
Spine chilling, eh? I think so, anyway. But yes, I really hope you take pleasure in reading this as much as I have writing it. Without anything further, please enjoy!
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Blood Brothers
"The mess is repulsive, I know," Alastair taunted, his voice a low purr, "But it's not often that we get such honorary guests in this neck of the woods."
Castiel tried to retort something through his gag, but it was pointless—it's not like Alastair would truly listen to what he had to say anyhow. Still, forcing his wrists up towards the seemingly non-existent sky Castiel strained himself against the cuffs which bound him desperate to escape and become free. Alastair slowly, almost leisurely, traipsed around the other side of the table his eyes continually glued to Castiel's. He could get lost in those eyes it would seem, with their never-ending sapphire waves of clarity. Truly magnificent.
But, as the demon drew closer, it would become apparent that his intentions focused elsewhere. "Tell me, angel," he bemused once more, "Which do you prefer—the thumb, or the index?" Castiel watched as Alastair lifted a long and slender dagger from its place at his side, twirling its blade in which to reflect the eerie shadows of their surroundings. He made a light murmur of protest which, of course, Alastair only took as a response for one or the other. "I myself am partial to the thumb, but I suppose the index finger would better suit these circumstances. Wouldn't you agree?"
Directing the dagger downward, Alastair pressed its edge roughly against Castiel's fingertip twisting and driving the blade harder and harder, until finally it punctured the skin in an agonizingly slow fashion. Castiel grunted as the slightest burning tinge washed over his nerves, once again heaving against the cuffs which secured his wrists. A nearly perfect blot of crimson blood promptly formed at the minute wound, growing steadily before finally dripping over the edge of flesh. It trailed down Castiel's lean finger, curving around his knuckle, and then finally settling in between the two fingers. As the angel continued to wrench vigorously, the blood flowed even faster which of course was only more enticing to Alastair's eyes.
The demon informed him, "You know, the struggle will only make you bleed out. The best thing you can really do for yourself is relax." Castiel squirmed as the demon continued to bear down upon him, edging as far away from Alastair as physically possibly. "I said relax," the demon cooed once more. As Alastair spoke, his breath tickled against the sensitive skin of Castiel's ear, sending chills up his spine and ultimately raising the hair on the angel's neck. Castiel could actually feel his muscles loosening and becoming less tense, in which he allowed his eyelids to dip shut only for the briefest of moments.
An unexpected moisture between his fingers though caused his eyes to flash open in sudden alert. Castiel watched in a mixture of horror and bizarre pleasure as Alastair's tongue glided with expert precision over his skin, careful not to miss a single drop of blood amidst the angel's fingers. Castiel grunted somewhat, curling his head upward in an attempted resistance. Without even the slightest movement of his head, Alastair lifted a hand in which to press against Castiel's sternum forcing the angel flat against the table yet again. It wasn't a rough gesture necessarily, but Castiel couldn't quite bring himself to resist Alastair's little charade. This was so wrong—in nearly every possible way—and the worst part was, Castiel knew it too.
Every fiber of his angelic being told him that he should retaliate, fight back. Still, as Alastair's tongue slid up to the very tip of Castiel's finger, the angel could make no complaints as Alastair proceeded to envelope his entire finger within the confinements of his mouth. The demon lingered on the bloody entrance of the cut momentarily, before bobbing his head up and down over the finger much like one would a blow job.
Castiel found himself moaning out, loudly in fact, being deeply awoken in portions of his soul which he hadn't even realized existed up until this point in time. Alastair paused from his work amidst suckling, a most devilish grin tugging at his lips as he gazed upon Castiel's flushed face.
"I don't believe this is necessary any longer," the demon snickered lowly, raising a hand in which to pull the gag away from Castiel's mouth leaving it to drape around the angel's neck.
Castiel panted heavily as he could now fully breathe once more—it was amazing how refreshing the air felt upon his lips as they had become moist from screaming into the cloth of his gag. The angel watched dazedly as his stomach dipped up and down as he breathed rapidly, a dull ache thumping in his groin. "I should smite you where you stand," Castiel muttered, his voice so deep it nearly sounded like a growl as he spoke.
Alastair's grin widened revealing sick, blood-tainted teeth once more. The demon leaned in close to Castiel's face, his eyes completely focused on the prey before him. "But you won't," he challenged, his voice twisted with an undertone of soft seduction as he spoke. Castiel flinched somewhat as tiny flecks of blood splattered across his face from Alastair's lips—his heart was racing once again, and the angel only now realized that a light coating of sweat had settled over his skin. Alastair laid a hand atop Castiel's chest, running his fingers up and down the buttons of the angel's dress shirt before finally continuing on. "Now, where were we?" He questioned, allowing his hand to glide over Castiel's body until reaching the angel's aroused nether region.
Castiel couldn't hold back the light cry that escaped his lips as Alastair danced and toyed with the flesh which lay just beneath the barrier of clothing. He could feel his toes curling and his fists clenching, every nerve going completely berserk with an overload of emotions. Alastair lingered there for only a moment further, before needing his fingers down the remainder of Castiel's leg and walking just slightly away from the angel.
"Naughty angel," he muttered under his breath as he turned in which to gaze upon a small cart of tools he had set aside. Picking up a large, more serrated type knife the demon examined it closely tucking it into the side of his pants for concealment. He walked back to where Castiel was strapped down, the smile never fading from his lips as he watched the angel's pupils quiver with anticipation.
And then, he did something that completely caught Castiel off guard—with just the slightest of grunts, Alastair hoisted himself upon the table straddling the angel without a second's hesitation. Castiel gasped out in surprised, his chest bobbing vigorously up and down. Alastair leaned down, placing one hand atop the table for support, allowing the other to trace up Castiel's stubble-speckled cheek in mocking affection. Castiel's eyes fluttered unexpectedly, Alastair continuing upward until his fingers caught the mess of the angel's hair. The demon twisted and curled his fingers through the lovely strands, each feeling like delicate silk to the touch. He simply relished in the moment, loving the paradox of Heaven and Hell conjoining under one roof.
Alastair continued to press himself down against Castiel, feeling the angel's already strained member growing in his pants with each passing moment. He was so close now, so close that their lips were nearly touching—both breathing the same air, practically. Little did Castiel realize that Alastair had removed a hand from atop his head and was now clutching his fingers around the handle of the knife he'd grabbed from the cart earlier. Alastair slipped the knife from its hidden place at his side, laying it gently against the exposed skin of Castiel's forearm. For a moment, nothing further was done, angel and demon simply staring at one another in the pale lighting. Castiel swallowed hard with uncertainty before he cried out as he felt the sudden pain intrude upon his senses. Alastair pulled away cunningly, Castiel now realizing that it had all just been a maneuver. A tactic to gain what he truly desired.
Still, he couldn't quite comprehend the purpose behind it. From what Castiel could understand, angel blood really wouldn't have any lasting effect on a demon. Other than the fact that Alastair obviously enjoyed the taste, there was no real reasoning behind his motives. Alastair watched in delight though, as a thick river of crimson poured from the wound in a constant flow. Then, rolling up his own sleeve, the pieces all seemed to slink together. Alastair used the knife to slice across his own skin, his borrowed blood mimicking the actions of Castiel's. Castiel watched, terrified, as Alastair turned his arm in preparation to join the two together in one embrace.
"No," he protested gravely, his throat too dry to convey any of his true emotions.
"Oh yes," Alastair muttered breathlessly, "I have been waiting for this moment, for an eternity Castiel. Why is it you angels are the only ones blessed with true grace, hmm?"
"You are a demon," Castiel shook his head helplessly.
Alastair paused momentarily, "That may be. But at least now you can say you've truly experienced Hell." On that note, he slammed his own arm against Castiel's joining wound with bloody wound.
Castiel could instantly feel the poison entering his body, having no choice but to accept this condemnation. The demon blood burned like pure acid being pumped into his system, causing each and every one of his veins to bulge to the surface emulating black. Castiel screamed out, shutting his eyes in one last desperation to block out the overwhelming pain, but instead his eye sockets only singed as badly as the blood that coursed through his body.
Alastair, meanwhile, could only feel the coldest of sensations flowing over his body like the water of a mountain spring. Chilled like ice, his muscles all stiffened each beginning to tremble and shake with the grace of Heaven. Glancing downward at his hands, the demon could see the most wholesome of white pouring from every inch of his skin threatening to burst at the seams. It was enough to make Alastair himself almost shriek out in this unknown agony.
And then, with an unexpected pulsation which coursed through the both of them, Alastair was thrown from Castiel by some unseen force. The demon flew through the air at an impossibly supersonic speed, crashing a fair distance away onto the hard ground. Castiel, in the meantime, shook and trembled violently where he was still chained down his thoughts in a whirl. From a stranger's perspective, it would look as though he were having convolutions of some kind. Crying out, Castiel yanked his arms upward in desperation in which the cuffs binding him snapped into pieces. The angel flew up from his position atop the table, amazed, falling onto the ground beside it just moments thereafter. He curled himself into a ball, wishing all the while that it was just end. That this terrible agony would rid itself from his body.
Glancing up just ever slightly, Castiel could see Alastair standing shakily beside him. He directed his eyes towards the demons face, watching the sadistic grin which was planted on his face. Something was different about Alastair—he was brighter. His skin seemed to emulate, some previously unknown sparkle shimmering in his eyes as he watched the angel on the ground writhing in pain.
Pulling Castiel up, Alastair turned the angel to face him all the while breaching him by the collar of his trench coat. "Do you see it now, Castiel?" he questioned through gritted teeth, "What we have to endure of waking moment of our existence?"
Castiel trembled uncontrollably, unable to keep his eyes on one secure location for a lengthy amount of time. "It hurts," he managed to stammered.
Alastair chuckled somewhat, shaking his head slowly back and forth. Tightening his grip upon Castiel's coat, the demon turned and charged him into one of the nearby walls. Alastair watched in satisfaction as Castiel winced from the ache in which he was just piling upon his current anguish. "No," he whispered, leaning in dangerously close to Castiel's ear. "You've never known true pain, angel."
Castiel's eyes widened at the demon's words and he turned his head so that he was facing Alastair directly. Neither one spoke, but there was already a thick tension quickly building between the two souls. Then, as Alastair clamped one hand around the back of Castiel's neck and forced them into a sickening kiss, the angel felt as though he had no other choice than to surrender to the demon's will.
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A/N: Well that was—fun, to say the very least haha. I don't know, I just find it fun to dabble in non-sense at times. I hope you'll agree ^_^ Anyhow thank you for reading, feedback is greatly appreciated!