Title: Memor Quisnam Vestri Vinco Est
Author: HigherMagic
Pairings: Demon!Castiel/Dean, Dean/Lisa (mentioned)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,463
Spoilers: Okay, none really. Highschool AU. Stolen premise from 'Jennifer's Body' but other than that, nothing.
Summary: Castiel gets possessed by a demon that has to be either satisfied with blood or flesh. Dean fills both roles.
Notes/Warnings: Collared!Dean, Demon!Evil!Castiel doing evil things to Dean. Semi-graphic non-con. A little OOCness and limpness from Dean. Unofficially beta'd by sarahlizzie (who is officially awesome! xD). Premise and first two scenes stolen a little from 'Jennifer's Body' (which is a freaking awesome movie, omg xD It's like porn for lesbian zombies :P)Written for earth_heart who requested Top!Demon!Cas and Collared!Dean. Hope you like this, lovey :D

"We sacrifice this virgin -."

The man pauses, pursing his lips as he looks over the wrinkled, folded-and-refolded piece of paper in his hands before he frowns and turns his attention towards the teenager that he and his partners had tied down to the cold cement floor of an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the small Podunk town that he and his associates had been passing through.

He bends down, unhooking the gag from the teen's lips, and smiles amiably at the terrified boy. "Sorry – what's your name?" he asks, all gentility and politeness. The teenager narrows confused, terrified blue eyes at him.

"C…Castiel," he gasps out, torso shifting as he tries to fight against the bindings holding him down, to no avail – the rope holds firmly in place, secured to rings that have been embedded in the floor. His arms are spread out either side of him, legs tied together in a mockery of Christ on the Cross.

The man smiles and nods, standing. "Alright then," he says, unfolding the paper again and he begins to recite the words of the ritual. "We sacrifice this virgin, Castiel, to you, Satan, our demonic overlord," he says in a bored-sounding, rushed kind of tone like he can't be bothered with this thing and just wants to get it over with. He tosses the piece of paper away and reaches behind him, where a Bowie knife is tucked into the waistband of his jeans. His associates give a low whistle of appreciation as the knife glints in the harsh fluorescent light.

Castiel's eyes widen and he begins to struggle even harder, truly afraid for his life now. The man cocks his head, smiling a little, and then plunges his knife downwards, straight into Castiel's chest. The teen cries out, screams, as the knife descends again and again, severing veins and arteries and bursting through organs, until eventually he can't scream anymore. Until he can't breathe anymore. Until he stops moving.

Dean's frantic. Castiel is missing. Not just missing – taken. He'd been out with his best friend at a party and there'd been a guest band there, hired by a friend of a friend of a friend or whatever, and they'd been cute – you know, boy bands, emo thing going on, fantastic voices. The whole shebang. Dean and Cas had flirted with the lead singer and drummer, Dean being an awesome best friend and wingman for Castiel and they'd been interested back. Then the whole place had gone to shit.

The house had caught on fire. No one knows how – seven are dead already and Castiel is missing. Dean had tried his cell phone – several thousand times – his home phone, his brothers' cell phones, anything. No one has seen him. No one has heard from him.

It is a thunder storm that night. Dean hates thunder storms – the rain keeps him awake and the thunder always makes him feel like his house is an inch away from shuddering down to its foundations, and the lightning is like strobe lights where you only catch flashes of movement and then by the time you realize something's coming towards you it's too late. He hates storms and how you can feel the shuddering of the very air and how it's too humid and everything. That and his house creaks.

Dean is honestly freaking out. Dad is out of town on work business and Sam is at Summer Camp in North Carolina. He is alone in the house and while usually that would be an excuse to invite his girlfriend over for some crazy-hot sex and his bi-curious best friend over to drink beer and play video games and watch marathons of horror movies, Dean doesn't do well when it is just him alone during a thunder storm. The doctors calls it an anxiety disorder or some shit but Dean doesn't need a reason to be afraid of natural occurrences that can blow people away, wipe houses and forests off the face of the Earth. He is freaking out and his best friend is missing.

He can't take being alone anymore – he just needs to hear someone's voice. Anyone's voice. He quickly takes out his cell phone and dials Lisa's number, relieved when she picks up on the third ring. "Hey, Lisa," he says, pacing around the house like some caged animal, and going to the fridge to get a beer in the hopes of calming himself down.

"Dean?" His girlfriend's worried voice comes down the other end. "Are you okay?" Luckily, Lisa knows of Dean's phobia, and while she is trying to get him to get over it (after all, where they live thunder storms are practically a given during this time of year) she is also perfectly happy to comfort him when he is honestly terrified.

He gives a self-deprecating little laugh. "No," he says, shaking his head. "No, I'm not okay. I'm…God, Lisa, I'm just going crazy." His head snaps up when he heard the floorboards creak and takes a swallow of his beer, wide eyes looking through the living room door, down the hall where the front door is and the cracked open side door that leads to the bathroom. Is it just him or are the shadows moving in there?

"Do you want to come over? Or do you need me to come over?" Lisa asks, and Dean hears her flipping over a page – probably studying or something. God, he feels like an ass, calling her with his mini-breakdown while she's probably doing homework or studying for important tests. He bites his lip, tempted to be selfish and to just tell her to come over, but decides against it, looking outside to the gale raging in full force outside his house. No one should be in that.

"Nah," he says, trying not to make his voice shake as lightning flashes outside. Something moves – probably the trees or something – and Dean jumps away from the window, frozen in fear for a brief moment before he shudders out a breath and closes the blinds, casting the room into darkness. He goes out into the lit hallway and shuts the door behind him, slowly but surely locking down the entire house. "Just…wanted to hear your voice. I'll…I'll be fine." He smiles slightly when she bids him goodnight with a soft 'See you Monday', and then he hangs up.

Right in time for the upstairs floorboards to creak again, in the exact way they would do if someone was stepping on them. Dean freezes.

Someone is in the house with him. His breath catches as he cautiously circles the banister that starts at the bottom of the stairs, and stares up into the dark upper floor. He waits for the noise to come again but nothing stirs. At the top of the stairs, the door is open to the second bathroom, revealing a writhing tree branch outside that shifts and shudders to the stormy winds. Dean takes a shaky breath, clenching the banister tightly and he reaches towards the corner of the hallway, behind the door where there is a baseball bat and grips it tightly, hefting the easy weight into his palm.

Then, lightning flashes and suddenly the house goes dark. Dean drops the baseball bat, well and truly freaked out now, and he sure as hell isn't going to go into the creepy basement to reset the fuse box and he can't navigate worth shit in the dark and there is another person in the house with him. Fuck. He's just bending down, trying to find his weapon again – just in case – when there's a warm breeze on the back of his neck.

He whirls around just as the lightning flashes again, and then falls back against the hallway wall, cold mirror against his shoulders.

Castiel is there. Covered in blood. Covered in his blood. It cakes his clothes and runs down his jeans, dry and crusting on the edges where his feet are bare and pale, almost blue from cold. His hair is in disarray, sticking up and stiff with more blood and then wetted down in places from the rain. His eyes are flat and blue and there is blood around his mouth like something out of a macabre vampire flick.

A single light flickers back to life above their heads, a second after the lightning flash ends, leaving dark spots on Dean's vision in the shape of Castiel, and a split second later its cousin, thunder, rolls over the house. Barely half a second passes and yet Castiel is closer. So much closer. Close enough that Dean can smell the blood and rain on him, and hear his breathing.

He is shaking from fear. His friend's face is blank, so blank, almost lifeless, that Dean wouldn't believe he was alive were it not for the steady in and out of his breathing, and the occasional flicker of his eyelids.

"…Cas?" he manages to stutter out, wide-eyed when his friend lifts his own eyes, meeting his gaze. Otherwise, Castiel doesn't move. "Cas? You okay?"

And slowly, very slowly, Castiel begins to smile. It starts off as almost nothing – just a small, upward curve of his lips, like he does when he's finding something Dean's doing amusing but in that silly, childish sort of way. Then, it gets a little wider, a little more…well, frightening. Dean's breath catches in his throat when his friend's smile keeps growing, an inch every three seconds or so, so slowly and Dean's very being shudders with the wrongness of what he is seeing. Finally, Cas flashes teeth. Teeth that are caked with wet, fresh blood, and he keeps smiling, and the smile still growing until it is a full-on grin, flashing red teeth and blood-covered, chapped lips.

Dean is so afraid, torn between wanting to help his friend, to see if he is okay – because Castiel is obviously injured even if Dean can't see the wound – and running for his life, because something in him is screaming that this isn't Cas. This isn't his friend.

Castiel – or the thing that is wearing his skin – reaches out, holding a steady hand that has blood dripping from its fingertips, palm facing up and hand curved in a gesture of peace and invitation, and Dean doesn't think – can't think. There is something hypnotic about Castiel's eyes and his too-wide, bloodstained smile, and he takes his friend's hand, his breath coming short and fast and his heart feeling like it's about to burst out of his chest.

"Cas, I -."

The creature raises his other hand and presses another blood-soaked finger to Dean's lips, quieting him, before pressing it to his own. He makes a shushing sound, then slips the finger into his mouth, licking at the blood with a soft, contented kind of noise like Castiel used to make when Dean would suck him off when they were younger and still in that 'exploration' stage of their lives. Then, Castiel tugs on Dean's hand, and leads him upstairs, and Dean doesn't even have a choice about it. He follows.

The lightning flashes when they reach the top of the stairs and Dean shies towards Castiel, away from the light, a whimper catching in his throat. Castiel makes that weird shushing sound again, pulling Dean towards his bedroom. He has yet to say a word and Dean is terrified that, somehow, he can't. He should be dead. Dean had seen him get taken away. Had seen him climb into that band's van and drive off. Even though he'd never admit it to himself, he'd felt it when Castiel had been lost.

Castiel shouldn't be here.

Shouldn't be breathing.

Castiel leads Dean into his darkened bedroom and then pushes the younger man back onto his bed, waving the door shut behind him. Dean stares up at Castiel from where he'd landed on the bed, limbs out in an uneasy sprawl before he sits up, trying to collect himself, to protect his exposed chest like a prey animal would, and Castiel stalks forward, smooth as a mountain lion, and slides into Dean's lap. His legs fall with easy memory onto either side of Dean's, thighs squeezing gently as he seats himself and wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders, looking down at his best friend and almost lover.

He's still smiling, his lips and teeth still stained with blood.

"What -." Dean is cut off again as Castiel leans down, eyes falling closed as he brushes his lips over Dean's. It is a tentative kiss, open-mouthed and more for the sake of tasting, as his tongue slips between Dean's lips, parted in surprise, to get at his own tongue, to try and coax it out to play as Dean had once been so eager to do.

Dean's tongue slides forward of its own accord, resting on the younger man's full bottom lip and Castiel smiles, a gentler one, pleased at Dean's receptiveness and he licks forward again, tasting of iron and rust and blood as he meets Dean, fingers carding through the hair at the back of Dean's head, soothing down his friend's spine with a warm palm like he used to when they'd had sleepovers and Dean would get afraid of the storms. He pushes his lips more forcefully against Dean's, biting down at the younger man's lower lip until he feels blood vessels begin to burst, making it swell and get red and sensitive under his teeth, and he soothes the first aches away, blunt nails scraping over Dean's scalp.

Dean suddenly pushes him away when the lightning strikes again. "What the fuck happened, Castiel?" he gasps, standing up, backing away to the other corner of the room, as far away as he can get from the creature who looks so much like his best friend. He holds his hands out in front of him defensively, as though they can protect him. "I saw you get in that van. And you're…you didn't answer my calls and…God, there's so much blood…"

Castiel looks down at himself, as though just noticing, and then between one blink and the next he is in front of Dean. The teen gasps in shock and tries to shy away, but can't because he's backed himself into a corner.

Castiel smiles, feeling like an animal – Dean's heartbeat is a base drum in his ears, his breathing and movement like higher harmonies. His voice is the tune and his fear bring it all together. Castiel can smell the adrenaline like perfume in the air.

He leans forward, lips by the other teen's ear, fitting his trembling body alongside Dean's. His teeth scrape over the boy's racing pulse and Dean shivers. "Are you afraid?" he husks, voice more of a purr than anything else and Dean closes his eyes, nodding. Castiel smiles. "Good, you should be."

Then, his hands encircle Dean's forearms, tossing him back onto the bed with inhuman strength. When Dean tries to get up Castiel waves his hand, pinning him down. Dean chokes on a gasp, looking up at his friend with wide eyes.

Castiel moves to stand by Dean's pinned wrist, looking down at the bared skin of the inside of his forearm, where the vein lies thick and blue under skin. He traces it with his finger. "Do you know what happens when you try and sacrifice an impure 'virgin' to Satan, Dean?" he asks, not looking at his friend and barely waiting for an answer. "Well, instead of taking the soul, the demon decides that, instead, it will inhabit the body."

Castiel's eyes flash to Dean's; making sure his friend understands exactly what is being said to him. Dean's eyes widen slowly, connecting the dots, and Castiel smiles, trailing his finger up Dean's arm, and he moves so he is straddling Dean's stomach, leaning down over him so his blood-rich breath ghosts over the other teen's lips, parted as he takes in panicked gasps. "For the most part, I can keep the demon satisfied with blood, but its pleasures can sometimes be much more carnal," he husks against his best friend's jaw, looking at Dean all the while with that same smile on his face. "It demands flesh. Warm, pliable flesh, and I can give it that, too." Dean chokes at the implications of what Castiel is saying and his friend sits up, splaying his hand over the side of Dean's face, thumb at the corner of Dean's mouth, fingertips arching over his eyebrow and temple, into his hair. "I don't want to kill you, Dean – you are too precious to me and I love you too much." Dean blinks, feeling his eyes tear up as the thing that is not his friend smiles a smile that is all Castiel – all warm amusement and affection – even as his eyes grow black. "But if you do not give me this, then I cannot promise I can keep it at bay."

"Cas -."

"Will you do this for me, Dean? Will you sacrifice your body to save your life and the lives of others?" And Castiel cocks his head to one side, black eyes staring down at him behind a bloody smile, and Dean swallows, and then nods, because he doesn't want to die, and he's had sex with Cas before. He can close his eyes and go somewhere else if he has to.

Besides, Castiel is obviously still there, somewhere. He doesn't want to kill Dean, after all.

"Answer me, Dean. Give me proof that says you want it," Castiel demands, eyes going back to blue, his thumb digging in with a little more purpose to the side of Dean's mouth.

Dean closes his eyes, sighing softly, and turns his head, sucking Castiel's thumb into his mouth. The demon-creature hisses, letting the digit slide deeper into the warm wetness. He'd gotten lucky on this sacrifice – the vessel is pretty and his friend is loyal. He'd sacrifice himself if it meant saving other people's lives.

For demons, it is like striking gold, diamonds and oil all at the same time.

He clenches his fingers, maneuvering his hand so his forefinger and middle finger joins and then replaces his thumb, sliding into Dean's mouth when the teen's cheeks hollows – definitely not a stranger to this – and Dean sucks his fingers down as far as he can take them, choking when Castiel moves his fingers to stimulate his gag reflex, but Dean doesn't fight. He doesn't have the leverage and even if he did – he won't hurt Castiel. Not while it is still Cas.

Castiel pulls his fingers out after several moments, claiming Dean's lips again in a kiss that is more dominance than pleasure on both sides, Castiel biting into Dean's mouth and tasting Dean's blood mixed with his own and that of Lisa, Dean's girlfriend. Yeah, she won't be seeing him come Monday morning. Dean belongs to Castiel, now, and it's time the boy knew it.

The demon yanks on Dean's head, pulling him back and exposing his throat. Dean goes with a pained little sound that he swallows back before it can fully form, Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to stop himself panicking, nostrils flared as he tries to control his breathing, jaw clenched, teeth grinding together. Castiel 'hmm's quietly, rubbing stubble-rough jaws against Dean's neck.

"Such a gorgeous neck, Dean," he growl-purrs, placing a light kiss at the hollow of Dean's throat. "A little bare, though…like a blank canvas just waiting to be painted, to be marked…" He chuckles and Dean whimpers when his finger traces the arching tendon in his neck. "I think I know just the thing."

He waves a hand and Dean arches back, screaming as his blood rises to the surface of his skin like the worst hemorrhaging. Outside, the lightening crackles and thunder dips down in a rolling grey cloud, seeping through the window and combining with the liquid of Dean's blood as the younger teen chokes up the blood, flying to a massive maelstrom of color in the air. Castiel waves his hand again and the cloud solidifies into a solid leather band that is almost as wide as his palm is, the leather thin and black, and Castiel smiles, taking it in his hands so that Dean can see it before he threads the leather collar around Dean's neck, fastening it a little too tightly so it fits perfectly snuggly against his throat. The teen gasps in pain at the burning sensation of Castiel's sulfurous touch and his own blackened blood against his throat. He blinks open green, pain-filled eyes and Castiel smiles, licking at Dean's lips lightly.

"Memor quisnam vestri vinco est," the demon purrs, smiling when the words became emblazoned in silver and iron across the collar and it molds seamlessly at the back of Dean's throat, becoming permanent and unbreakable – it will choke Dean to death if he tries to remove it in any way. "Do you know what that means, Dean?"

The teen shook his head.

"It means, in simple terms, 'Remember who your Master is'," Castiel says, smiling when Dean's breath hitches, and Castiel uses the opportunity to sit up, shedding his blood stained shirt. Dean gasps at the half-healed stab wounds marring his chest, muscles flexing as he tries to fight against the invisible restraints pinning him down, tries to touch his friend even though it isn't his friend. "You listening, Dean?" Castiel asks, tossing the shirt away and then standing up, working at his jeans. "You're mine. Mine to own, mine to control, mine to fuck and use as I please." For an instant, Castiel's eyes turn black again. "Violate any terms of our contract and I will kill you, but before that I will kill Castiel. Many thousands of times, and I will make you watch, and then I shall make you suffer all the fires of Hell before I drag you down with me and my Host. You are mine until I release you, do you understand?"

Castiel smiles, letting his jeans drop along with his underwear, and Dean sucks in a breath at the sight of Castiel's hard cock, flushed and curling up towards his stomach, thick and hard and Dean swallows, remembering how big Castiel used to feel, how much he's grown since then, how much this will hurt even if he doesn't fight.

"Answer me, Dean," Castiel growls, eyes flashing black once more as he fists his cock twice, biting his lower lip as pleasure courses through his meat suit, echoing through the demon's essence as the two of them start melding together, driven by the desire to shed blood and split flesh apart, to make Dean scream for them. "Do you understand?"

"…Y-Yes," Dean chokes out, stutters and shies away when lightning flashes across the room again, his bedroom eerily still while the storm rages outside. "Yes, I understand, Cas," he says, tears in his eyes again and Castiel smiles, and snaps his fingers, and Dean's clothes are gone.

"Excellent," the demon purrs, smiling that too-wide smile again as he drops back down, on all fours, crouching over Dean's prone body. Another snap of his fingers and Dean jerks, finding that he can move, at least his upper body, and Castiel smiles, rearing back so he crouches on the balls of his feet, sitting on his heels, and then stands up again, cock at the same level of Dean's mouth. The human freezes when he finds himself paralyzed in that position again, and closes his eyes, cursing himself for having willingly done what the demon willed of him.

Castiel cocks his head to one side, and then growls low in his throat. The sound shakes Dean enough that the teen opens his eyes again and Castiel leans down. "You will keep your eyes open and your head up the entire fucking time, do you understand me? I want you to watch as your friend fucks you." Dean shudders but obeys, keeping his eyes fixed on the demon as Castiel draws back again, fisting his own cock and he rocks forward, painting Dean's lush, bitten-red lips with pre-come, and he smiles when Dean's tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip and the head of Castiel's cock at the same time. Then, he rocks forward more, steadying himself on Dean's bed, and feeds his cock to Dean, who takes it with a low moan, lips and jaws parting easily to accommodate Castiel in his mouth. The demon hisses, throwing his head back as Dean immediately begins a vacuum-tight suction, cheeks hollowing as he tilts his head, letting Castiel thrust even deeper as he avoids the gag reflex, opening his throat around Castiel so that the demon can go as deep as he desires.

"Fuck, you're good at this," Castiel growls, gripping himself around the base so that he stands a chance of lasting past the first few minutes. Dean moans around his cock like that compliment is the best thing in the world, eyes kept obediently open as he looks up at Castiel from under thick dark eyelashes, tongue dragging up the thick vein and flicking under the head, through the slit when Castiel begins to withdraw, Dean's lips keeping that pressure around him though it will hurt his jaw to keep it up too long – this is about sating Castiel and the demon inside of him, and Dean would pull out all the stops to save the lives of innocent people, and his own. To keep his friend safe and under control.

Castiel smiles, tracing the edge of the leather collar, and at the front a thick metal D-ring materializes, and Castiel drags another finger through his own blood, gathered around one of the knife-wounds, and threads a leash out of it, made it out of air and blood and then wove it through Dean's collar and through the D-ring, wrapping the excess around his fist.

He uses that for leverage. He pulls Dean down onto his cock until the teen can lick at the coarse hairs around the base, and then rocks forward until Dean has to pull off or risk gagging or suffocating. Then when Dean is just around the head again he pulls on the leash. It creates a quite effective method of keeping the rhythm when Dean starts to slow, unable to avoid his gag reflex every time so he chokes around Castiel's cock, muscles spasming deliciously around the demon and Castiel hisses, driven close to the edge by that sinful tongue and delicious, stretched lips and the sight of his cock repeatedly disappearing into Dean's mouth, coming out slick with saliva, shining in the periodic lightning. Dean whimpers and moans for it like a two dollar whore, eyes always open and tearing up at the corners, and Castiel lets him cry, because the salt tastes tangy in the air, combining with the sweetness of blood and the bitterness of sweat, and the demon is getting too excited, here.

He pulls out roughly, Dean's teeth catching on the exit and they both moan, Dean panting out brokenly as he tries to get his breath back, looking up at Castiel with tear-filled jade eyes, sweat along his brow and in the dips of his chest, plastering his hair to his face. Adrenaline and lust blow his pupils wide and Castiel growls at the decadent sight, pulling on the D-ring and allowing Dean to move until the human is standing up, panting and shaking with fear and anxiety, knowing what is to come next.

Castiel smiles his too-wide smile. "On your hands and knees, beloved. On the bed." The nickname is crass and common coming out of the demon's mouth and Dean chokes on a sob, knowing his friend is in there, and though it isn't Dean's fault he prays for Castiel's forgiveness. He climbs onto the bed, spreading his legs easily as he faces the window that overlooks the backyard, able to see his own reflection and Castiel's in the dark glass, and then shies away when lightning illuminates the outside for a brief moment, to see the creepy dead tree that grows in Dean's backyard that his dad never got around to cutting down, and the swing-set that hasn't been used in years, a slave to the raging gale outside.

Dean watches as Castiel kneels up behind him, fisting his spit-slick cock, and Dean braces himself, knowing it is going to hurt.

He isn't wrong.

Castiel feels like lava, like jagged iron splitting him open. Castiel tugs at the leash around Dean's neck, forcing the teen's head up and his back to bow so he doesn't lean forward too far and choke, and that's the only leverage Dean gets when Castiel pushes in. The entrance is too dry and catches on him, ripping him open and Dean sobs, trying to bend his body down, to hide, to lose himself but he can't because Castiel is keeping his head up, keeping his eyes on their reflections in the shadow-darkened glass and Dean can feel the fires of the demon behind him, inside of his friend, burning black in his eyes.

The words – 'Memor quisnam vestri vinco est' – flare brightly on his collar, the collar that stands out in their sepia reflection, black against his pale, sweat-slicked skin as Castiel sets up a pace inside of him, conjuring lube from somewhere because chafing is a bitch and he doesn't want to permanently fuck Dean up – that's not the point of this. The point of this is power and domination, to keep Dean coming back. To make Dean like this so the demon doesn't go looking elsewhere.

Dean and Castiel seem to think that at the same time, and Dean thinks his friend must somewhat be in control, because Castiel's free hand is gentle on his side, soothing him and grounding him, and then he's running his hand down around Dean's stomach to his half-hard cock, fisting it tightly and Castiel bends forward, still pulling with the leash but not as harshly now, his lips and stubble-rough jaw dragging along Dean's spine, warm and reassuring even if what he's doing isn't.

Dean whimpers when he feels himself start to harden, feels the demon's cock strike against his prostate on every thrust, mercilessly, too much sensation, especially when Castiel parts sharp teeth and sinks them into the back of Dean's neck, right below the collar for something more personal, less obvious. Dean will forever feel that mark burning into the skin, long after this first night together.

"So fucking tight, beloved," Castiel growls, picking up the pace inside of his new lover, his new pet and plaything, and Dean whimpers, strains against the leash's hold, but doesn't fight. He tosses his head but doesn't buck – all bark, no bite. Castiel almost smiles, his fist tightening on the upstroke, swiping over the head like he knows Dean likes and his human pet whimpers. "So hot and wet and perfect. Fucking love this, don't you, getting me to pin you down and fuck you like an animal – fuck you like you're mine. You are mine, now, Dean. Body, mind, and soon enough, in soul as well."

There's a silence, filled only with low grunts and pained whimpers as Dean's body shudders convulsively, no longer under his control, no longer listening to what his mind is telling him, but now attuned to Castiel. To Castiel's needs and his demands and the collar glows around his neck. Castiel smiled. "Come for me, beloved," he growls, and Dean has no choice. Has never had any choice. His body rolls in a long shudder-arch and his eyes fall closed, shoulders dipping even though it makes him choke because he can't help himself, as he spills over Castiel's hand and his bed-sheets. Castiel growls, stilling at the suffocating tightness of Dean's ass around his cock and thrusts into his release, rocking through it as Dean's greedy muscles milk him for all of it, and he smiles in triumph at the sweating, trembling human.

He pets a hand down Dean's spine and lets the leash go slightly lax, inhaling the scent of sex, fear and resignation in the air. Dean's about to collapse and Castiel pulls out, lets him fall and plasters himself to Dean's back. The human is shaking, sobbing, trying to control himself and the demon smiles and lets his body relax behind his new playmate.

Dean is a loyal friend. He will do anything if it means Castiel doesn't have to kill to sate the demon. The demon smiles inwardly, throwing an arm over Dean's stomach and his smile grows when Dean shudders, shivers, and forces himself to relax into the touch.

The next few decades are going to be very entertaining.