Pairing: Castiel/Crowley

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 496

Warnings: Sex, Angst, Very Dub-Con, Language

Spoilers: Up to and including 6.20

Summary: "A man can't be too careful in his choice of enemies, angel."

Author Notes: A fill for the CastielFest Two Weeks In Purgatory pre-finale CommentFic Meme. Prompt: 'Cas/Crowley hate!sex plus or minus (preferably plus) consent issues (feel free to include Crowley's use of wonderfully canon terms such as kitten and whore)'

"You can say no anytime, kitten," Crowley whispers into Castiel's ear as the demon loosens his tie. "Of course, Raphael's a crafty bugger, isn't he? Dare say you wouldn't have much of a chance on your own against an enemy like 'im." The demon raises an eyebrow before dragging his tongue from Castiel's jaw to his temple and the angel shudders in revulsion.

"Much nicer to have friends with benefits, hmm?"

"I am not your friend," Castiel growls, but he does nothing - merely watches as Crowley slips the belt from around his waist, the buckle loud against the concrete floor.

"A man can't be too careful in his choice of enemies, angel." Crowley's slacks drop and his lips stretch in a wide, deceptively charming smile. He looks pointedly at the angel's full mouth, before rubbing his erection lewdly against Castiel's thigh.

"And I am not a man," Castiel grinds out, grabbing the demon by the lapels and slamming him back against the cracked tiles. It's enough to kneel before this abomination and offer his mouth, however reluctantly, but Castiel was damned if he'd have his back against a wall when he did it.

"No you're not," Crowley hisses, his eyes turning hard and sharp. "Pissing match is over, pet. Now be a good little whore and open your pretty mouth before I decide to become friends with…oh, something tighter, say." Crowley smiles again, but there's no charm in it this time. Just a threat.

Castiel battles the natural instinct to smite, his hands curling into fists so tight he can feel blood welling beneath his fingernails. Instead he drops to his knees on the dirty floor and tries not to contemplate the filth seeping into his dress pants.

He has watched every move Crowley's made with angelic vigilance and precision, and he's loath to take his eyes off the demon for more than a millisecond. But Raphael's forces are gathering stronger each day. He needs what Crowley offers, and what the demon demands in return - besides his share of the souls - is his acquiescence to these carnal acts.

Humiliating, dirty and base. But necessary nonetheless.

Strong hands clamp like a vice on either side of Castiel's head, and the angel takes it, like every other time before. He opens and submits himself to the creature above him, however fast or hard or rough Crowley wants it.

"Ah, yes, there we go," he sighs and his head falls back against the wall, lips quirked slightly. "Who knew an angel would be such a nice little whore, eh?"

Castiel stills and holds his breath. He takes Crowley's every thrust, fast and deep into his throat.

He takes it like a penance for every soul he gathers, every sin he's committed. He pretends it will absolve him; pretends that redemption is still possible.

He wonders if Dean would understand.

Crowley pats his hair condescendingly and Castiel closes his eyes in humiliation.

"There's a good kitten…"

~end~