Title: Judas Kiss
Author: HigherMagic
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, teensy bit of Castiel/Lucifer
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~5,000
Spoilers: Castiel and Lucifer exist and Dean went to Hell. The rest is AU.
Summary: Castiel fell with Lucifer when the Morningstar was cast down to Hell. As the years went by he became more demon than angel, and when Dean Winchester's soul arrived in Hell he claimed him for himself.
Notes: Written for earth_heart. I LOVE YOU BENNY, LIKE FOREVER, and I'm sorry this took so fucking long and I hope it comes close to what you had in mind. I think I might have just snapped a little bit, so you'll forgive me if I think it's not my best again. Oh well. xD Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

There's a shiver of lightning down his spine. The Seraph's eyes close, wings unfolding on instinct around himself as his older, larger-than-life brother slides closer, slots easily into the lines of his Grace, hooking in and holding fast. It's a decadent kind of intimacy that has Castiel shuddering. Thousands upon thousands of silver-gold wings enclose around them, hiding him within the power of rebellion and rage.

"Fly with me, brother," comes the whisper in his ear, the heavy-with-lust susurrus of a thousand voices and only one. His eyes flare open and look up into the shine of the Morning Star, and he shivers again, wings pinning tightly to his back in defense and readiness, and a little bit of invitation. His hands, if he has such things as hands in this form, come up and lock onto the sides of his brother's 'face'. Dark blue rolls and spills into burning yellow and gold and the chill of it, of the carrier of the Sun who must run cold to stand such heat, sears into Castiel's very being, and he shivers.

"Yes," he whispers, knowing he is being asked to do more than fly. No, he is being asked to Fall. He is being asked to abandon the Father that has left them first, to run against the maggots of humanity and stand against their Father's desires, and he's willing, because the Morning Star is cold and here, right here. He feels desire and fierce knowledge and love swirling in his big brother's Grace, and he can't refuse.

So he doesn't.

Lucifer smiles, carding a hand through his little brother's hair, and draws him up for a Judas Kiss, marking him with dark intent, and two of the thousands of wings stay around him, while the rest flare out, magnificent and shining and glorious, and Castiel shivers again.

"Fall with me?" Lucifer murmurs, brushing cold lips against the Seraph, who is burning hot, his Grace flushing and turning red with desire and lust that sears through his very being, right to the core. He nods and seals his lips to his big brother's again, sucking in a surprised gasp at the sensation of his brother's unfettered, unleashed Grace, and together, Castiel wrapped in the circle of his brother's wings, they Fall.

"Well aren't you just the prettiest thing I ever did see?"

His hands are cold, hardened from many years gripping the razor, the blade used to torture souls after many, many years in Hell, brought about by hatred and love of unequaled amount from his brother and for his absent Father. He smells of sulfur and death when he leans in, running his nose along the dark hair of the newest soul in Hell, above the ear and back down, around his neck where scent is strongest. Learning it, like a predator for its prey, an animal for its mate. One hand is gripped tight in the human's hair, keeping him still, the other planted over his heart. The Fallen Angel can feel the heartbeat, strong and steady and altogether too fast – fear. Anger. Righteousness. All of it combines into a scent that burns at the Angel's nose but he takes no notice, instead turning back to face Lucifer.

The Fallen Angel smiles, the only one truly able to look at the Archangel without flinching, without being smote where he stands for his blatant lack of reverence. "Brother, I want this one," he says, marble blue eyes flickering over his normal, light blue, when the Demon Sire and Morning Star turns to look at him. There's a smile on Lucifer's face, like he's particularly pleased with this development, and Castiel feels a warm flush spike through him at his brother's approval that he can feel in the pale, glowing golden eyes.

"That's an…interesting choice, Castiel," the Devil replies, smirk curving his beatific face as one brother looks at the other, Master and Servant, until Castiel lowers his eyes.

It's a rare thing that Castiel will take an interest in the souls that are brought into Hell, herded in like cattle to the slaughter. But this man…this man shines so brightly, it draws the Fallen Angel to him. Castiel can't help himself when he turns to look back at the human, who's glaring at him like he wishes Castiel would burst into flame where he stands. He grins, left side of his mouth quirking up higher than the right, and leans in again. The human's face twists in disgust and he leans away, so Castiel's mouth lands on the corner of his. It makes the Fallen Angel chuckle, gripping the human's hair tighter, and he bares his teeth against the human's skin, pressing his lips there. The Hunter's trembling but bearing it, because he fucking signed up for this so he can take it like a good boy.

Castiel smiles, and there's a feral edge to it that speaks of many, many lifetimes of madness and lust, carnal pleasure and overwhelming love. He pulls the man closer to his body and the human growls and tenses up, fighting back as much as he can.

"Don't touch me, demon!" he snarls, baring his teeth at the Fallen Angel, and Castiel and Lucifer both laugh.

"Oh, you're going to be fun." Castiel purrs against the human's snarling mouth, his eyes flashing under lids half-closed, and he bares his teeth also in a savage sneer, their teeth clacking together, and forces the human's jaws apart with the grip on his chin, thumb digging into his cheek and forcing his mouth to part like he's milking a snake. "Mm, taste so sweet." His tongue slides along the human's, who's struggling against him and trying to shove Castiel away, but he can't. His struggle makes it all the sweeter, when the Hunter growls and sinks his teeth into Castiel's lower lip, tugging harshly enough to draw blood.

Castiel purrs at the little sharp pain, continuing to kiss the Hunter while their lips become slicked with his dark blood. The human makes a soft noise of distress and tries to turn his head away, so Castiel lets him, marbled blue almost taken over by black as he opens his eyes and tilts his head in, so his lips rasp wetly across the human's pulse. "Tell me your name," he demands softly, in a serpent's whisper that cannot be denied.

The human shivers at it, his fists clenching behind him, but they are bound very tightly with rope made of silver and salt and the skin of Hounds. He's not going anywhere unless Castiel lets him. "Dean," comes the reluctant reply, terse and forced out through clenched teeth. Castiel smirks, able to hear the high squeak of them grinding together.

He withdraws, holding the human's – Dean's – chin in his hand again, and forces Dean to raise his head and bare his throat. The bob of his Adam's apple is mesmerizing. Castiel can see the tiny droplets of sweat forming on Dean's skin, brought about by Hell's unbearable heat and his own fear. "Dean," he echoes, rolling the name around on his tongue. It is familiar. Of course it is. Castiel bares his teeth in that feral grin again. "I am honored."

Dean smirks a little. "Heard of me, demon?" he sneers, all bravado, and Castiel's eyes flash just a little at the disrespect, before the emotion is gone and he's left grinning all over again. His teeth have blood smeared across them from the blood welling up from Dean's bite, wet and warm.

"How rude of me," Castiel replies, letting go of Dean and pressing a hand to his own heart, eyes black and wide. "I haven't even introduced myself." He looks back to Lucifer, who is watching the proceedings with a mixture of interest and amusement. He turns back to Dean, the human watching him with wary disdain, and takes Dean's chin in hand, forcing his head up and the human has to bare his throat. "Forgive my lack of manners, Dean Winchester. A celebrity such as you deserves a more grand welcome." He snarls the words, stepping closer to the human soul who is beginning to tremble with terrified anticipation, knowing what is to come, but he can scarcely imagine. Castiel has seen things no human has ever even dared to dream of.

"Enjoy him, Castiel," Lucifer murmurs, before Castiel raises his free hand and snaps his fingers, and both the Fallen Angel and the human soul are transported away from the main hall, into one of Castiel's more favored rooms. The walls are black – everything's black in Hell, or red or a sickly green color like a Christmas tree gone wrong – and smooth like a hospital floor. The room is relatively bare. There is only a small table by the door and several cushions scattered along the floor made out of black crushed velvet. Castiel just loves the texture of them, especially when they become wet with blood. The floor is hardwood like that in a luxurious mansion, smooth and cool to his bare feet and to Dean's. The soul looks around, eyes flashing quickly around the room, taking everything in, but very quickly because he's not willing to take his eyes off Castiel for even a second. His heartbeat is climbing in rate, his breaths coming faster – nervous human reflexes to his fear. Castiel hopes to train those out of him soon; a fast beating heart is too damn inconvenient when he starts cutting. It makes the game end way too soon.

"Castiel," Dean murmurs, mostly to himself, his hands twisting against the bindings that hold them at the small of his back.

The Fallen Angel smiles. "Do you like my name, Dean?" he asks, cocking his head to one side.

"I like to know the names of the monsters I kill," Dean snarls back, baring his teeth. There's a little trace of Castiel's blood along the end of them and the creature's eyes zero in on it. He steps closer, a rough inhale dragging into his lungs, seeing the small flecks of red in Dean's mouth – it's decadent and dirty and he loves it.

"How interesting," he replies, smirking with that feral grin again, eyes flashing brightly. He looks up at Dean, noting that the soul is slightly taller than himself. "So do I." He reaches up, thumbing along the edge of Dean's lower lip and pulling it slightly to bare Dean's teeth. He is mesmerized by the bob of Dean's Adam's apple when the human swallows, and his eyes flash darkly, and he closes more of the distance, taking Dean's lower lip into his mouth and nipping slightly. Dean flinches away. "It's selfish to keep such a sweet taste to yourself, you know," the Fallen Angel purrs.

"What are you?" Dean demands, for he realizes the creature is not a demon – Castiel is nothing he has ever seen before.

Castiel chuckles, cocking his head to one side. His eyes flash black for the briefest of seconds. "Kneel," he commands softly, and before Dean can come up with some undoubtedly witty or haughty remark, the Hunter finds himself sinking to his knees without permission from his brain. He fixes wide eyes on Castiel, who is still smiling, one corner of his mouth quirking up higher than the other.

The Fallen Angel steps closer, his eyes dragging along Dean's body like a physical touch, making the Hunter shudder and clench his jaw, his hands forming fists at the small of his back, and Castiel bends down, thumbing along Dean's lower lip, silently.

At the first press of his hand against Dean's neck, he finds the Hunter's heartbeat is flying in fear and anxiety, and he chuckles, removing his hand again, taking Dean's chin and drawing the soul up for a kiss. He bites at Dean's lips until he sheds blood, Dean trying to keep him out, but the soul still thinks he has to breathe and so it isn't long before Dean's lips part in a pant, needing to fill his lungs, and Castiel is quick to take the advantage, his tongue sliding in, coated with blood, forcing Dean to taste the bitter, metallic flavor.

Dean fights back at that, gagging on the taste, but he can't force Castiel away without losing his own balance and ending up sprawled on the floor. The creature smiles when Dean's tongue tries to force his own back into his mouth, biting down when he can't. It hurts, but it's the good kind of pain.

Dean's soul swirls in fear and helplessness. He's shivering.

"I shall mark you with a Judas Kiss," Castiel whispers against Dean's mouth, his eyes half-lidded, staring into Dean's wide, dark ones.

Before Dean can react Castiel waves his hand, keeping the Hunter silent with his tainted, shredded Grace. It feels like a gag made of oil and leather has been placed in his mouth, though there's nothing there, and Castiel reaches behind himself, plucking a feather from one of his wings. The small, sharp pain makes him hiss and his wings jerk in response to it. Dean's eyes follow the action.

He drags it along his lips, where both his and Dean's blood still lingers, and then he lays it across Dean's neck.

Castiel smiles. "And this shall make you mine," he finishes with a whisper, as the feather begins to…change. It grows longer, and thicker, the rachis all melding together to create one solid length of what looks like steel, but when he presses it to Dean's neck, it feels soft and supple like well-oiled leather, warm and slightly wet against his skin.

Dean swallows, wanting to lean away, to fight, but Castiel's influence holds him still and he can't do much more than pant when the leather-steel collar begins to slowly form around his neck, thick and just shy of being too tight and creates one clean band with no fastening. Dean winces when the material chafes.

He feels like he needs to say something – needs to do or say anything to even up the field, something cocky that'll piss the guy off. Only that's for when there's back-up – when Dean's talking, he's stalling. There's nothing to stall, here. There's no rescue, there's no home field advantage. There's just a room and this creature and now there's a collar around his neck.

A small hiss of pain is startled out of him when the collar tightens, settling in place around his neck like a living creature, sigils on the outside flaring up to show its master that it is complete. Castiel smiles, running two fingers along the band of leather and Dean shudders, as it seems that, whatever kind of touch Castiel deals to the collar, it's amplified and felt throughout his body.

"You've -." Dean stops, clearing his throat, because his voice is coming out shaky. Castiel waits patiently, smiling to himself, while the Hunter struggles to gain control of himself again. "You've got some serious control issues here, man."

Castiel chuckles. "It's merely precaution," he says, falling down so he's kneeling, mirroring Dean's position, his wings falling to the floor almost lazily around him. "Besides," he continues, kneeling up and taking Dean's chin in his hand, forcing the man to bare his throat so he can admire the movement of the collar over the flexing tendons, "it looks pretty."

Whatever Dean might reply to that is lost when he jerks the Hunter back up to his feet, a hand in his hair the only point of contact between them. Castiel's eyes flash black and his mouth curls in a cruel smirk. Dean stumbles to his feet, fighting against the hold just because he feels like he should, even though it hurts and doesn't get him anywhere.

Castiel laughs when he sees Dean trying to struggle, and his hands land on the Hunter, easily guiding him to turn around and shoving him back down to the ground. With Dean's hands bound as they are, he can't catch himself and he has no choice but to submit to the stronger creature's will. Castiel shoves Dean down to his knees and then over, plastering himself to Dean's back when Dean bends.

He manages to catch himself, spreading his knees out so that he doesn't completely face plant against the floor, and growls, tossing his head, trying to buck his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge Castiel. The creature just laughs, his wings flaring out for balance and then he flattens them to the ground, his weight easily holding Dean down.

Castiel snaps his fingers and Dean tenses, gasping when chains rise up out of the floor and cover Dean's back and shoulders, forcing him down to the ground. His shoulder presses against the hard floor, back bent in an inviting arch when the chains force his legs further apart and he bucks his hips up to avoid the painful pull on his thighs.

"Fuck," he growls, struggling harder, but to no avail, and Castiel laughs again.

He kneels up, gripping Dean by the hips and admiring the play of the false, dull light over Dean's skin and muscle. Castiel's hands flatten over Dean's skin, stroking and petting down his back almost gently – pressing a little too hard, admiringly. The Hunter really is a beautiful human and Castiel can appreciate his beauty, contained and caged power in the lines of his muscles and restricted by the black metal chains. The collar flashes darkly against his gorgeously tanned skin.

"So pretty," he purrs, leaning down again and pressing a kiss to the centre of the Hunter's back, ignoring the little growl Dean gives him, chuckling when he shifts under the chains, trying to find weakness. "And all mine."

"Fuck you and your issues," Dean snaps, turning his face to one side so that he can see Castiel out of the corner of his eye and so that his face isn't being forced into the floor. His hands are clenched into fists at the small of his back, entire body tense and trembling. "Let me up."

Castiel chuckles, cocking his head to one side. His nails dig into the meat of Dean's shoulders, dragging down his back and along the edges of the chains, following the twisting pattern until he reaches the swell of Dean's ass, his lips curving up in a smirk when he slides one dry finger against the Hunter's entrance, not quite pressing in but Dean can feel it and he tenses up even further, struggling in vain against his restraints.

"He who is brave enough to live with Death's shadow on his back for a year does not balk at the first sign of Hell," Castiel murmurs, conjuring a little slick onto his finger and sinking it into Dean's tight heat. The Hunter hisses at the sudden, surprising pain, baring his teeth and biting back his cry. The muscles in his back ripple and begin to shine with sweat. "Do you honestly think you can bargain or talk yourself out of this one, Dean?" he taunts, his words mocking, laughing. "I am Alpha here, boy, and the best you can do is make sure you don't piss me off."

He chuckles again at Dean's growl, shoving another finger into the Hunter's tight body, and leans down to fist his other hand in Dean's hair, forcing the Hunter's head back so he's taking all his weight on his shoulder. The collar just manages to not choke him. "Who knows," Castiel purrs, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the side of Dean's neck, "you might even like it."

He crooks his fingers, pressing down against Dean's prostate unerringly. He has spent many years becoming very intimately learned in human anatomy – he knows every part of every human body that will cause pain or pleasure, and knows how to stimulate both areas until the souls are whimpering, begging for him to stop or continue.

Dean jerks underneath him, crying out despite himself, his body shaking in response to the sudden stab of pleasure and Castiel closes his eyes, nostrils flaring as he begins to find the heady scent of arousal curling around them in the air like smoke.

He smiles. "Can you smell it, Dean?" he asks, shoving in his fingers as deeply as he can get them, crooking them inside of Dean and dragging his fingers along Dean's velvety warm insides. The Hunter shivers at the Fallen Angel's dark, raspy voice. "Feel how your body trembles against mine."

"Fuck, just shut up," Dean growls, pressing his forehead against the floor again, trying to hide, and Castiel lets him – there's nowhere to run here. Dean will learn that soon enough. Castiel removes his fingers from Dean's body, cupping the jut of his hip instead and rolls his hard cock against Dean's ass, purring low in his throat.

He laughs and presses his forehead against one of the chains on Dean's back, forcing the hard metal into smooth, unresisting skin and Dean whines, tensing up. "I can hear your heartbeat," he whispers, pressing a hand against Dean's chest, forcing the Hunter's back to arch so it's rubbing along Castiel's body in the most delicious way, the chains catching on each other's muscles and pulling and tugging and causing Dean a little extra pain. "It's flying so fast, so heavy." He smiles, rocking his hips once again against Dean's ass, this time the head of his cock catching on Dean's rim and making the Hunter shudder. His protests have fallen silent now. "Your blood is singing."

With that, his fingers dig roughly into Dean's body, holding and hobbling his mount to keep him still, and Castiel bares his teeth against the back of Dean's neck, biting down as he angles his hips and starts the first slow push into Dean's body. The Hunter feels even tighter around his cock, so hot and wet and warm, like fucking a virgin girl. The thought makes him chuckle, able to feel the body shaking underneath him, and he knows Dean is far from an inexperienced female. No, this is a thousand times better.

Dean's entire body locks up completely as Castiel pushes into him, and the creature can feel Dean's insides tense, tighten, trying to force him out, but he just pushes right on through, chuckling darkly when his actions cause a low, pained groan to escape from between Dean's parted, bloody lips. Castiel feels nails digging into his stomach and closes his eyes, able to feel how Dean's hands are clawing at him, trying to hurt, trying to harm, but to no avail. The Hunter's well and truly trapped and he's not going anywhere until Castiel says so.

The going is dry and there wasn't enough prep – Dean's gripping him like a vice and it feels fucking amazing. Castiel's beginning to understand why his brethren had taken such interest in human souls – the brilliance and brightness of this man catches him and lures him in. Castiel shivers, his feathers bristling up in arousal and satisfaction when he's fully hilted, a low growl rolling from his bared teeth against Dean's spine, which dips as much as his restraints allow him in response.

"I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together," he whispers, moving his hands down Dean's thighs to get a better grip, and he rolls his hips so he strikes the Hunter's prostate.

Dean shudders, a low whine being forced out of him, and he turns his head to one side, trying to breathe through the pain and grit his teeth and bear it, because he knows this is nothing. This is just having fun. He clenches his fists, grimacing when he feels slickness around his fingers and knows he must have shed the creature's blood, in so far as Castiel has blood to shed.

"Fuck," he hisses when Castiel rolls his hips again, the creature seemingly content to just rut. Dean needs him to move, to get the fuck on with it. "Move."

Castiel chuckles, one hand running up Dean's side. His long, nimble fingers curl into the tight chains, able to feel the pressure marks on Dean's skin where they lay. "Such a demanding soul," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss against Dean's shoulder blade. "Never got enough love and affection when he was alive."

Dean growls at him, turning his head to one side so he can see Castiel's face, and the Fallen Angel laughs at the sound, hooking his hands into the chains again and pulling Dean backward. They let the human move, Castiel's will guiding them and letting them go slack, and the creature kneels back so Dean is sprawled across his lap, his strong arms and wings wrapping around the Hunter and keeping him in place.

"It's alright," he purrs against the sweaty skin of Dean's neck, licking at the collar and Dean shudders, his back arching, head thrown back against Castiel's shoulder. "Just means I'll have to make up for lost time."

Dean shudders again, clenching his eyes tightly shut, and he turns his head away from Castiel, but the creature doesn't mind – his hands explore, tracking over the soul's manifested body, learning the parts that make Dean shiver and the parts that make him whine. His wings wrap around Dean tightly, almost suffocating them both in warm air and Dean tenses up at the feather-light brushes against his sensitive skin.

Castiel wraps his arms around Dean's waist, moving him as though the man weighs nothing, making him ride Castiel harshly so that every thrust forces out the hard-won air from Dean's lungs. The human is gasping and whining, his cock hard and straining up towards his belly, but he is bearing it all in silence.

Castiel doesn't mind. After all, they have all the time under the world.

It's been a long time since Castiel indulged in pleasure such as this; the tight clench of muscles spasming in pain around his cock, the high, breathy whimpers of another creature, driven so close to the edge. The scent of sweat and the taste of shame on another thing's skin – it's decadent, and Castiel feels himself soaring high on it. He thrusts roughly up into Dean's tight channel once more, growling against the collar on Dean's neck as he comes and the action makes Dean tremble, feeling Castiel's release throughout his entire body, right down to his very soul.

Castiel shoves him down against the hardwood floor again, rolling his hips so he's as deep inside of Dean as he can get, letting the human's unsatisfied body milk him for his seed. His wings fall on either side of them, shielding Dean almost possessively from the air around them so that Dean is only surrounded by him.

"Mine," he whispers, running his hands down Dean's chest, to the human's flushed cock, and he fists it loosely, making Dean whine. "Such a pretty, needy soul…"

"Shut up," Dean moans, spreading his knees out along the floor, bucking into Castiel's hand though the Angel can tell he's trying not to – trying to stay perfectly still, unaffected. "Just shut the fuck up."

Castiel chuckles and licks along the collar once more, tightening his grip on Dean's cock. With his tattered, tainted Grace, he reaches towards the human soul, tugging it to him and surrounding it in his dark brilliance, and Dean lets out another soft, involuntary sound, his body shaking as he comes, coating Castiel's hand and the floor below him in his milky release.

When he goes limp, Castiel chuckles darkly, snapping his fingers and the chains slither back into the floor. The bindings around Dean's hands, too, disappear, and there is a split second of nothingness, before Dean's suddenly up and on Castiel, flipping the Fallen Angel onto his back and pinning him down with a forearm against his throat.

He snarls and Castiel growls right back at him, baring his teeth up at the Hunter. Dean's eyes narrow after a long moment, pressing his bloody lips together as though trying to decide what to do now, and Castiel lets him.

"I should kill you right now," he mutters, green eyes tracking over Castiel's face.

The creature laughs. "What with?" Dean's eyes widen, then, and Castiel takes Dean's arm, snapping it in an effortless grip and the Hunter hisses, shoulders dipping enough that Castiel can get a leg over and around him and roll them both over, shoving Dean down to the floor again. "Welcome to my house, baby," he hisses, leaning down, healing Dean's arm with his shattered Grace. It leaves a black stain behind on the Hunter's skin. His heart is flying again.

Then, Castiel chuckles, and stands up. His wings fan the air behind him and he waits patiently for Dean to get to his feet. The door to the room swings open and Castiel jerks his head. "Go," he purrs.

Dean hesitates, eyeing the door. "What?" he asks slowly. Castiel enjoys the small flare of hope inside of him – soon enough, that too will disappear, and Castiel will enjoy it while it lasts. "What do you mean?"

"I want you to run," Castiel continues, stepping towards Dean who immediately takes a step back, down into an attack stance. With his hands free he looks more in control, more like the Hunter he is, and it's beautiful – fluid lines and strong muscle and Castiel can't wait. "You heard me. Go!" The walls shake with the power in his voice and Dean flinches away. Slowly, not taking his eyes off Castiel, he backs out of the room, and then turns tail and flees down the corridor, out into the open of Hell.

The Fallen Angel smirks to himself, cocking his head as he hears the howls of hounds, realizing a soul has escaped.

His wings flare out in readiness. "And the Hunt is on," he whispers, conjuring his blade to himself, and heads out behind Dean. The human's scent is like a visible fog in the air and Castiel feels his Grace flare in excitement and anticipation. He laughs.

Yes – he and Dean are going to have a lot of fun together.