Castiel opened his eyes slowly and painfully. He didn't completely remember how he ended up in this…well, he wasn't sure where he was…but he vaguely remembered hearing the bark of a Hellhound, then silence. He passed his gaze across the room; black, floor to ceiling, with a few candelabras dotted around for light. Cas then noticed an aching in his back, one he'd never felt in his current vessel, forcing him to turn his attention on himself. He gazed at bloody knuckles, leading him to believe he'd struggled against something; his trenchcoat and suit jacket were missing, leaving him only in a ripped white button-down and black trousers. He then noticed he was hanging about a foot off of the floor. At his first attempt to move, a searing pain ran through his entire being—not just his vessel, but his Grace, his very soul—and it took all of his power not to scream out in agony. He gingerly craned his neck backwards, eyes widening as he saw his wings fully spread, probably 12 feet from tip to tip, hanging from chains attached to the ceiling.
"Good morning, angel! I was wondering when you'd finally stir." Castiel carefully shifted his gaze to the doorway; there, smirking, stood the King of Hell himself. Crowley walked into the room nonchalantly, nursing a glass of scotch on the rocks. He gave Cas a quick once-over, tutting thrice. "Oh dear. You really did get it rough, didn't you? Nothing you're not used to though, yes?" he added, smirking and raising an eyebrow.
"What have you done to me, Crowley?" Cas demanded fiercely. His blue eyes flamed with rage as Crowley had the distinct nerve to chuckle.
"I've chained you up by your bloody wings, you sot. Honestly," he said, moseying towards the angel and patting his hair, "you spent two much time with your Neanderthal charges."
"But…why?" Cas began to tilt his head in his customary puppy-like fashion, but was stopped by another searing jolt of pain through his frame.
"Because it's fun? Because I can?" Crowley took a sip of scotch, placing the glass on a coaster on a nearby table. Cas noted his manners, finding them quite odd. "It doesn't matter why, angel. Maybe I've caught you so I can lure the moose and your boyfriend in here and trap them too. Perhaps I just needed a new wall hanging. Or maybe…maybe I've no idea." He shrugged, patting Cas a little too hard on the back. "Oh, did that hurt? Here, lemme help." Crowley smirked as he ripped off the last of Cas's tattered shirt, exposing bruised and torn flesh.
"What are you doing?" Cas would squirm away but he knew it would be far too painful. He watched as Crowley silently stood before him, regarding his wings carefully, and lowered his fingers into his feathers, stroking them from top to bottom slowly, straightening out a few that had been ruffled in his earlier struggle with the Hellhound. Cas felt a shudder of excitement rush through his being—this was the most intimate touch an angel could get, and he was certain Crowley knew that. His breath hitched as Crowley knelt before him, digging his hands deeper into his outspread wings and gliding his fingers over every feather, his touch surprisingly gentle. Cas's cock twitched against his pants, completely hard and nearly dripping with pre-come.
"Crowley," Cas growled. "I need more." He couldn't move himself due to the pain in his body, but Crowley took his vocal clues and undid Cas's pants, sliding them off. Cas let himself moan as Crowley removed a hand from his wings and slid it against his bulging cloth-covered cock, squeezing and rubbing it with the deft tips of his fingers. Crowley slowly pulled down Cas's underwear, marveling at the man before him—even if he weren't inhabited by an angel, Jimmy Novak's body was quite heavenly—before stroking Cas's cock slowly.
"Crowley," Cas shuddered at his experienced touch; he'd learned how to do it to himself from watching Dean but he'd never done it that well before. Crowley removed his other hand from Cas's wing, gently cupping his balls with it as he spread pre-come down his shaft and pumped his cock with the other. Cas bucked his hips up with Crowley's movements; he was nearly there when Crowley suddenly stopped. Cas looked down and he was simply smirking, staring at the rock-hard cock before him.
"Do not tease me," said Cas quietly, and before the words were out of his mouth he was once again sent into ecstasy by the feeling of Crowley's lips parting around his head, tongue swiftly moving in circles. Crowley worked the length of Cas's shaft, sliding him in and out of his mouth and throat at an even pace, driving Cas closer and closer to the edge. "C-Crowley," he stammered, panting, "I'm about to…"
Crowley's hands slid their way up Cas's thighs, slowly guiding their way around his ass (which he lightly tapped) and back into his mass of feathers. As he did this, Crowley shoved Cas's cock as far as it could go down his throat. As he felt feathers upon his hands he also tasted Cas's salty release upon the back of his tongue; he rubbed and swallowed until the angel was spent, a panting slumped heap.
"Don't worry, Castiel," Crowley murmured, wandering back over to his scotch. "Your humans will be here to pick you up soon enough. I told them where you were, and that you were…mostly unharmed." He smirked. "I just wanted to have a bit of fun."