Dean wandered around the small town, the night clinging to him like a preternatural coat.
A breeze kicked at the fallen maple leaves in front of him, creating a hush that echoed in the park Dean found himself in once again. Everything stilled, clouds passed over head, robbing the demon of moonlight for a brief moment.
On the footpath stood a figure. It frowned at him and beckoned with its bloated hand.
The bitter tang of sulfur pervaded the air and alongside it came the unmistakable stench of burning human hair. A greasy bitter smell that set Dean's teeth on edge.
To humans all demons looked and smelled the same. It seemed as if they all had the common distinctive pair of beetle black eyes and the odour of sulfur. But to the supernatural creatures that ruled the three planes each demon was distinct.
Dean had a cloak of red fire and black smoke whilst the one in front of him was a smoldering bloated corpse.
Dean huffed and turned away, not wanting to give the other demon any of his time.
"Hey!" the demon cried, footsteps pounding the pavement in a hurried staccato.
"Where do you think you're going Dean? I'm here for a status report."
Dean turned; hate burning in his eyes. Everything from the demon's squinting pig like eyes, to the flab of fat that hung over the man's waist belt; all of it repulsed Dean.
"Everything is going along swimmingly Macellum." Dean stared down at the demon's porcine face as if to drive the point home.
Wiggling a stunted finger in front of Dean's nose Macellum began to walk around Dean, nose raised to the air to soak in Dean's scent. "No, no, no, that simply won't do. You've been up here for a few days now Dean, you are being awfully slow."
Taking a step back Dean tried to walk away from the demon, skin crawling with Macellum's presence.
Stepping lightly in front of Dean, Macellum continued, "Now what is the problem, hm? One little priest too much for the infamous Hunter turned demon?"
A vein began to pulse in Dean's forehead; his fingers itched with the desire for violence.
With a comically flamboyant gesture Macellum sighed, shoulders sagging, "I suppose I can help you this once, Dean. After all, from how his sweet scent clings to you I'm sure this little priest of yours will taste positively divine."
Dean moved; one fluid motion and he felt the soft fat of Macellum's neck ooze around his fingers. Both demon's eyes flicked to black, a wolfish snarl from Dean forced a frightened squeak from the choking demon.
"He's mine Macellum. Mine. Get that through your thick skull before I decide to do something more permanent to it."
Macellum managed a meek nod before being released by Dean. Collapsing to the stone footpath Macellum massaged his bruised neck, little black eyes disappearing beneath fatty folds as he glared up at Dean.
"I'll be telling Alastair about this. He'll deal with that priest if I can't."
Something snapped within Dean. His eyes widened and his blood drowned in heady adrenaline as he roared with a guttural cry. He descended on Macellum hands fisting themselves in his greasy black hair.
Dean never heard the pathetic cry as he dashed Macellum's skull against the footpath. Red exploded on the stones, rippling in the gossamer moonlight.
Macellum lay stunned, teeth protruding through his upper lip. Grey brain matter oozed through the cracks in his skull. Pain rattled his thoughts and made him numb to the feeling of Dean turning him over onto his back.
Looking up at his attacker Macellum watched as a demented smile painted itself in horrifying angles on Dean's face. Leaning down Dean's nose hovered millimeters away from Macellum's own.
"Oh poor little pig." Dean cooed, his thumbs gently moving over the exaggerated curves of Macellum's cheek only to rest on his lidded eyes. "About to be eaten by the big, bad, wolf."
As each word was said pressure began to build on Macellum's eyes.
The prone demon began to thrash, sounds of agony threaded the night as Dean's thumbs finally pushed through the fleshy eyeballs. Blood welled over Macellum's skin, his eyes now two inkwells of crimson ink.
"You won't be telling Alastair anything Macellum. I've dreamt of this moment…Getting rid of those pig eyes first, and then, then, I dreamt about getting rid of you."
Macellum struggled, the demon blindly groped to get away, fingernails wrenched from their spongy beds as he scrabbled at the stone pathway to get away.
Throwing out his foot Dean kicked Macellum's hand, breaking the bones like brittle twigs.
Macellum bawled, red tears soaking his face.
"Please! Please don't! Leave me be!"
The assault paused; Macellum could only hope that Dean was thinking about sparing him as he was now blind to the world.
A brute force thrust itself into his chest. Macellum's head lolled to the side as he felt fingers groping, searching, and looking for his soul.
"I'm having too much fun to stop now Macellum…Bye little piggy."
With a grunt of exertion Dean wrenched his blooded hand free of Macellum's chest. In his hand a writhing black mass struggled to fly away. It burnt like corrosive acid and squirmed like a ball of worms and leeches.
Bringing his other hand to it Dean snarled as he struggled to rip it apart. His muscles bunched with the exertion, until finally with a thunderous crack he ripped it apart, red tendrils of energy exploding into the night sky.
Panting, Dean doubled over. Sweat dripped from his brow as he looked into the bloodied holes of Macellum's eye cavities.
Wiping his bloodied hands on the moist grass to the side of the path Dean fled the park, his thoughts in turmoil.
Macellum was one of Alastair's loyal minions. Dean kept walking, fighting the urge to run. He'd just painted a target on his back.
A slightly hysterical laugh burbled on Dean's lips. And what was it for? Sure he hated Macellum, but the prick wasn't worth it.
Playing back the other demon's words, Dean realised that the only thing Macellum had spoken about was Castiel.
Giving out to the shaking in his legs Dean leaned against the brick wall he found himself at. Castiel. What was it about Castiel? Sighing, Dean straightened his jacket and shook himself out of his shivering. Rolling his head Dean's neck cracked and popped. Macellum was right about one thing though. He did have more work to do and he was going to damn Castiel to hell. Not some two-bit demon. Castiel was his.
0…0…0…
Standing at the pulpit Castiel addressed his congregation, his mind distracted as he kept replaying the lewd scenes of his wet dream over and over in his head.
Yet the bakers dozen of people noticed nothing amiss as he rattled off a passage of the Old Testament. Luckily, he didn't even have to think about what to say in service anymore.
It was second nature. It was boring.
Castiel's lips thinned as he waited for the congregation to finish singing their hymn.
It shouldn't be boring. This was the life he had devoted himself to. This was God's will and he would not stray from his path.
Resolve strengthened, Castiel's chapped lips parted to add his voice to the hymn, but he paused.
Tiny flutters of movement seemed to pass over his trousers. Surely it was his imagination though. Surreptitiously stealing a glance downwards Castiel startled when he saw green eyes glimmering at him from the hidden recess in the pulpit.
How the demon had stayed concealed there was a mystery. Castiel tried to put a small distance between himself and the pulpit but was stopped by the hand that latched onto his thigh.
Smirking, Dean laid a warm hand against Castiel's crotch, delighted when he felt the jolt of surprise that ran through Castiel.
Clearing his throat to hide his surprised yelp, Castiel continued with his service, trying with all his might to ignore the hand that trailed ever closer to the thin metal line of his fly.
Leaning forward, Dean's fingers found the small metal tag. With a slow, agonizing pace he watched the silver teeth part, revealing the white briefs that Castiel wore.
Laughing quietly to himself Dean splayed his fingers over the stiffening member hidden beneath the cotton, eyes rising to watch Castiel fidget with discomfort.
Castiel stared into the parishioners, willing his flesh to stop reacting to the soft ministrations.
The words of scripture began to tumble clumsily from his mouth, when once they would have flowed like spring water over pebbles.
A flush sprang to Castiel's cheeks as he felt cool air brush over the erection he could feel pulsing between his legs.
His dream from last night seemed to be eerily coming to life.
Dean laid his hand on Castiel's erection, thumb teasing over the head to smear the pre-cum in a glistening sheen.
Heat began to pool in Dean's gut, his own cock began to ache and beg silently for attention. Undoing his own fly with his other hand, Dean held himself in one hand, eyes rolling back in his head at the thrill of doing this in public.
Castiel gripped the edges of the wooden platform, knuckles white with the effort of maintaining an aura of normalcy. Desperate to distract the congregation Castiel called for the peace exchange.
People stood and milled about, shaking hands and smiling. Brief enquiries to the health and happiness of others were exchanged with each gesture.
Breathing out a shaky sigh of ecstasy Castiel looked down at Dean. The demon's fingers worked up and down his shaft, the rough jerks made Castiel bite his lip and eyelashes flutter. It was a struggled not to thrust his hips in time with Dean's skillful hand.
This was all so wrong. A terrible sin. Being handled in such a manner by a demon…in his church…in service…with thirteen people watching. It was horrid.
Groaning, Castiel's head lolled to the side, he missed the odd looks he garnered in a few attending the service.
It might be wrong but it was so damn good.
The thrill of being watched, being brought to completion unbeknownst to his flock, made his body pulse and breathing come in short hurried gasps.
Dean's canine gnawed his lip as he enraptured Castiel, his own end was coming quickly as he felt his erection throb fiercely in his palm and balls tighten. The thought of being found defiling this priest made his erection boil with sensation. It was nearly enough for Dean to cum without ever touching himself.
As the peace exchange came to an end, Castiel closed his eyes.
He was so close.
The congregation waited, confused glances shared between them.
Castiel looked up, eyes lidded. He should say something. He really, really should. But he couldn't. Instead he merely gasped in time with each lewd stroke. Each roughened callus on Dean's hand was in perfect opposition to the demon's soft palm running over his cock.
Slamming a hand down on the top of the pulpit Castiel held himself up as he felt his orgasm rip through him, bright white light blanking out the scene of his church for the longest, most pleasurable moment he had ever known.
Cum coated Dean's fingers, specks of it painted his wrist and rolled down his skin.
With a silent burst Dean came as well, his hand twisting the head of his cock for a final pulse of exhilarating gratification.
Zipping himself and Castiel back up, Dean waited patiently for Castiel to finish the service.
Minutes later Castiel asked for the closing prayer. Relief swept over him as the conclusion to the mass neared.
Walking down the central passageway Castiel bade goodbye to the faithful. The widow Mrs. Cooper paused in front of Castiel. Looking up into his blue eyes she made a concerned smile. "Are you alright dear, you look awfully flushed and during mass you seemed…distracted."
Castiel's face flushed with the warmth of his embarrassment. "Ugh, yes, I think I may be coming down with a flu. I'm sorry."
Nodding, Mrs. Cooper patted Castiel's shoulder, "it's alright Father, get better soon."
"I will" Castiel replied, trying his best to look anywhere but at her face.
Soon afterwards the church was empty.
Whipping around Castiel's expression was thunderous as he stared at the demon that leaned nonchalantly against the pulpit. His posture was the epitome of relaxed, a sly smile on his face and feet crossed at the ankle.
"You liked that huh?" Dean asked, words smug.
"Christo!" Castiel shouted, eyebrows drawn together with anger.
Jerking back at the word Dean hissed with pain, "play nice Cas."
Striding up to Dean, Castiel's breaths were deep huffs, his anger consuming him. "Have you damned me?"
Dean raised his hands placatingly, predicting the use of a rosary or holy water, "what? A little grope and fondle from a demon? No, that's certainly not enough."
Anything but pacified at the answer Castiel reached for the silver rosary hanging from his neck. Yet Castiel stopped short when he noticed the dark splatters staining Dean's leather jacket.
"Is that your blood?"
Quirking a brow Dean looked down at his brown jacket, "ah no, it's not mine."
Castiel raised the rosary, his anger building to new levels, "who's is it Dean? Don't lie to me, I'll be able to tell."
Lowering his hands Dean's fingers followed the subtle dark spray of dried blood. "You know how hard it is to get blood out of leather?"
Closing the gap between them, Castiel's eyes darkened to a stormy blue, "answer the question."
Dean shrugged his shoulders, "The blood's from a demon called Macellum. He pissed me off, so I killed him."
Curiosity piqued, Castiel released the rosary, "why would you kill a demon? Won't you be in trouble?"
Dean looked up, his eyes wide with fright and uncertainty for a split moment. Quickly recovering, the mask of bravado slid back into place. "He wanted a piece of you. I'd promised that I'd be the one to deal with you if you didn't exorcize me, remember?"
The corners of Dean's eyes crinkled as he continued, whether with anger or concern, Castiel wasn't able to tell. "I don't go back on my promises Cas. And I won't get into any trouble I can't handle."
As if to strip away any reassurance from Dean's words lightning flashed outside, flooding the church with stark light. Rain began to patter against the slate shingles on the roof, creating an ominous background.
Turning to watch the rain framed by the window Castiel sighed, "thank you."
Snapping his eyes to Castiel, Dean waited for an explanation.
Facing Dean, Castiel parodied the demon's bravado, "one demon I can handle. Two…" Castiel trailed off a smile on his pink lips.
Dean's eyes lit up, "so you forgive me for the hand job?"
Rolling his eyes, Castiel walked away from Dean, intent on having a cold shower, "don't push it Dean."
Pointing to a door to the left of the church Castiel added, "there's a corridor down there and the first door on the right is a spare bedroom. You can stay here tonight seeing at it's raining."
With that, Castiel disappeared into his own private rooms.
Dean sat down on one of the pews, the tension and fear of having to face the consequences of killing Macellum evaporating. Castiel trusted him enough to stay in the church. The thought pleased him inordinately. Without realizing it a smile blossomed on his face.
Lightning cracked like a whip outside, the wind howled with the fervour of a banshee.
A storm was coming.
(A/N: I know, I know, heavy on the pathetic fallacy, forgive me. And I'm really sorry for the late update, I've been busy. Thanks for the reviews, more would be lovely.)