The Demon prowled around the unconscious figure lying bound on the floor. His tattered cloak as dark as the shadows that misted the room, billowed behind him. With each step there was a sharp clack of the Demon's heels that echoed eerily across the hall.
The Angel stirred.
He lay slumped on the cold, hard ground. Legs bound by a coiling chain that criss-crossed up to his waist, naked chest, and arms that tied together at the wrist. The sharp metal glazed in crusted blood as it cut into the pale flesh. Yet the most cruel appendage of bondage was the hook fastened by a thick iron ring to the floor, piercing the through the blades of the Angel's burnt black wings.
And the Demon thought it was a beautiful sight.
And beautiful the Angel was as he roused himself into consciousness. That stark white, translucent flesh tinged with a flushed pink and marred with lashes of red cuts as evidence of the creatures previous battle. His jawline was strong with a brush of stubble. A swollen cut lacerated his high, sharp cheekbones and as his eyes fluttered open, the Demon found himself staring into two cerulean blue pools.
It didn't take long for the Angel to become aware of the present situation. His face hardened in a challenging stare, meeting the Demon's own emerald orbs. Like the soldier he was, he hardly flinched as the darker being crouched before him and cupped his beautiful jaw.
With a sadistic smirk the Demon sweetly ran his thumb along the soft flesh, liking what he saw.
"You got a name, Angel?" He drawled.
The question was met with a defying silence as it echoed down the hall. The Demon squeezed his captives jaw painfully. Long, black talons digging into the sensitive skin and drawing welts of red.
"I asked if you had a name." The Demon's face inched closer, he knew his prisoner would not break easily, yet his drawling tone had suddenly become a sinister hiss.
Again, the Angel did not answer.
Slowly, the Demon moved his face further away. Studying the Angel's features, his eyes of their startling bright green, morphed into deep black orbs of a shade so dark the Angel felt he was being sucked in.
A grin broke out across the Demon's handsome features.
The hand holding the Angels jaw still, suddenly lashed out and slapped the captives cheek with terrifying force. The Angel yelped in pain and surprise causing the Demon to only grin wider.
"Such a sweet sound." He mused, cupping the Angel's now burning cheek. He leant forward, bringing his lips to the Angel's ear.
"I can't wait to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours."
Ignoring the jolt that those words sent down his spine, the Angel stiffened as he held his defiant silence. The Demon carried on.
"I wonder what other sounds you can make...The melodies you can sing for me, Angel. With that beautiful voice your God gave to you."
As he spoke, the talloned fingers trailed down, lightly scraping against the white flesh in a mock gesture of affection.
"The things I will have you sing, Angel. Just imagine them." - A short laugh. "Just you and me. And your wonderful voice."
Black nails met the sensitive jugular pulsing along the captive's neck. The Demon watched transfixed, sensing the Angel's blood rushing through the thick vein. Such sweet, thick blood. It had been a long time since The Demon had gorged on the life nectar of a Holy Being.
All it would take was a squeeze- And every last drop would come pouring out.
The captive would convulse in his bondage, drenched in his own life. The Demon would watch as the light faded from those pretty, blue eyes.
But where was the fun in that?
With a smirk the Demon's hand snaked around his captive's throat. He relished in the dominance, the submission he would eventually beat into his holy, little plaything. He wanted a name.
The Angel couldn't bring himself to look into those eyes of hellfire ash. He knew it himself that he would break. That he would be eventually screaming for his God in this Demon's hall. Screaming for release. Screaming for more.
It was only a matter of time.
Almost lovingly the Demon's talloned thumb stroked over his prisoner's windpipe. The sharp point dug into the flesh like a bite.
Slowly, The Demon pressed down. The talon pierced the skin as though it were paper, digging in deeper, slowly, so slowly, so that the Angel would feel every ounce of pain as his blood started to flood his windpipe.
By the time the entire talon was embedded into his flesh, the Angel was choking gutturally. Blood dripped from the corners of his sealed lips, mimicking the cascade of crimson flowing from the wound the Demon was making.
But the Demon was still not finished. With practised precision, the Demon dragged his thumb slowly across the paling throat, etching in a deep, neat line that severed the flesh up to the oesophagus.
The Angel gurgled as his body shook. Eyes widening in pain, before squeezing shut when the urge to choke became too great.
Unable to contain himself the Angel coughed, blood splattering from his mouth staining the Demon's black robes in a dark, wet sheen.
Satisfied, the Demon removed the cutting talon. Instead replacing it with his tongue where he swiped along the deep ridge of the cut tasting the life nectar of his Angel.
It was sweeter than ambrosia.
Using the power of will, the Demon allowed the cut to heal. The Angel convulsed his entire body awash with a tremble at the taint of such dark magic now in his veins.
He stopped choking, spitting out the last splotches of blood and refused the Demon's gaze.
"A name."
It was a simple command.
The Angel shut his eyes feeling those unforgiving hands travel further down. The sinful fingers dancing along the Angel's naked skin traced a line of violation over every inch they touched.
At last, they met their destination as the Demon stroked the soft flesh of his Angel's belly.
"I will ask you one last time."
The captive trembled.
The Demon didn't hesitate in sinking his talons into the new flesh. What was white and untouched by chain or battle now broke to reveal delicious red. The Angel allowed himself a silent scream upon the vile penetration.
With a sharp thrust of the Demon's wrist, the silence broke. A shrill cry of agony ringing out from the Angel's bloody throat.
Enjoying his shrieks, the Demon buried his talons deeper, submerging up to his knuckles in the crimson flesh. Amidst the Angel's screams, a word was cried out as he threw back his head in agony.
"What was that, pet?" The Demon crooned.
"Cas..." The Angel panted, his face scrunched up in pain. His breath came out in agonised pants as he fought to form words. "...Castiel."
If the Demon had smiled before, it had absolutely nothing on the victorious grin that split across his features now.
He wrenched his submerged hand free from the broken soldier's stomach, enticing yet another delicious scream.
"Now that wasn't so hard, now was it?" He cooed, stroking the Castiel's face with his bloodied hand.
The Angel did not answer, but hung his head panting against the pain. The Demon had already willed the newest wound shut, yet the blood still coated his abused skin.
"Castiel." The Demon whispered softly, breath ghosting over his prisoner's face. "It's beautiful."
Castiel couldn't bring himself to look at the Demon; his tormenter. He'd been weakened so quickly, his defences destroyed and crushed. The humiliation was almost as great as his physical pain.
"Now," The Demon started again. "It's only fair now that I tell you my name, is it not?"
When he received no answer the Demon gripped his Angel's chin roughly, forcing him to look up.
"Do you want to know my name, Castiel? Hhmm?"
The Angel swallowed trying to avert his eyes from the swallowing black ones of the Demon.
"It's nowhere near as impressive as yours, I must say. It was the name I had as a human, I'm somewhat attached to it so I never changed."
The Demon tilted his head examining his new pet's broken face, and smiled.
"It's Dean." He said. "Dean, but you can call me Master."
And then the real torture began.
Castiel screamed for hours. The Demon's imagination truly had no limit.
Dean had a skill for coming up with new ways each time to make his pet scream harder and louder each time. His favourite methods were abusing the Angel's already withered wings. He would run his fingers through the still soft, burnt feathers, lacing them gently around the healthiest strongest one's attached to his shoulder blades, and oh so gently ripping them free from the cartilage.
Having his feathers pulled out hurt Castiel the most as his wings were so precious to him. They were a sign of his divinity, a gift from God to his soldiers. The fact that someone as vile as the Demon was even touching them was defilement enough- even as scorched as they were by the Hellfire in his descent to the Demon's realm, the burns were a mark of his strength, but to be touched by something so impure-that hurt Castiel in much more ways.
Another favourite of Dean's was to burn all his pretty, white flesh. The binds holding the Angel only allowed him to writhe and thrash as the smoking stench of his own burning flesh filled his nostrils. The Demon's flames were unnaturally hot, burning, scorching tendrils that licked through the Angel's skin, leaving raw, bloody and blistering sores.
The burns as livid as they were could not compare with the heightening heat within the Demon. Torturing Castiel sparked a feeling that spiked through Dean's very own black soul. With each strike to the Angel's skin, or slicing of flesh, the sounds that Dean could tear out of Castiel sent ghostly tingles shooting along the Demon's spine. He relished in that sensation, the pleasure that was only borderline sexual. But the Demon was not ready to take that step with his Angel just yet. No, that could wait.
He watched Castiel now, broken, exhausted. His Angel had been destroyed and rebuilt time and time again throughout their little session. Dean's realm was transcendent of time, such a thing held no existence in his lair. Yet every now and then the Demon did have to rest. He gave his pet one last affectionate glance, before leaving the broken soldier still strung up in bindings, carding a hand lovingly through his hair as he swept past. He would be back for his toy soon enough.
The door clanged shut in his wake and Castiel hung his head and sobbed.