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Castiel was made to worship. It hadn’t been in his bones, nor his DNA. It wasn’t etched into his skin, nor emblazoned on his soul (he never had one). It was more than that. Deeper. It had not been his reason for living, it was the reason for his life. He was created for a simple purpose, to obey, serve and worship his father. Placed on the earth and in heaven solely for that reason, an unquestioning, obedient, dutiful son.
But Castiel is gone.
Cas still feels the urge to worship. Oh he’s long since abandoned his search for his father. His faith in Him as absent as the Grace from his body. As it filled with his new humanity, faith in God seemed to seep away, slowly at first, and then all in a rush. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in His existence, more that he doesn’t care to rest his faith in Him any more than he trusts the rickety old bench in the garden to bear his weight. These days he places his faith elsewhere. These days he willingly, eagerly prostrates himself before a monster. If his brethren thought he was fallen for consorting with humans, they would surely consider him lower than the dirt on the floor of Purgatory if they could see him now, on his knees before the naked body of a vampire.
With closed eyes he runs his hands up and down the thick muscles of Benny’s thighs. He can feel the power, coiled and tensed, making the limbs twitch and tremble as his fingers pass over the sun-starved skin. Leaning up on his knees he presses firm kisses into the soft skin around the vampire’s navel, dipping his tongue into the divot in the flesh. This small scar, this slight space, is a reminder of the fact that Benny was born into this world in a way that he was not. That Benny, even turned as he has been, was a product of love and worship, of faith in something other than the divine.
Gentle hands land on his head, one carding through his hair, the other cupping his jaw, the thumb against his cheek, and he turns into it to kiss the palm. These hands, fingers strong and rough, were made to create and destroy. They were crafted to bring pleasure and pain, to make music, to hunt. They have rent and torn and been bathed in blood and they have mended and soothed and made a fallen angel cry out with bliss.
His own hands are soft, long fingered, accustomed to being folded in prayer but yet to develop the callouses and scars that come with a lifetime of humanity. He moves them now, smoothing up the strong legs to grasp hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the skin as he goes. He bows his head to rest his forehead against the vampire’s belly, taking time to breathe in the earthy scent and salt of him, pressing his face to the damp curls between Benny’s legs.
Tipping his head back, so he can meet the vampire’s steel blue, wide eyed gaze with his own, he drags his tongue from root to tip of the hard cock which is curved, flushed and swollen in front of him. Benny’s eyes roll closed and he sucks in a breath, his hand tightening slightly where it holds onto Cas’ hair. The angel brings one hand round to make a loose fist around the vampire’s cock, guiding its heaviness into the warm cavern of his mouth. This is an act of devotion the fallen angel has never been called to perform before, a carnal prayer to the physical body which looks down at him with so much adoration in his eyes that Cas can hardly breathe. He tightens his grip, rolling his fist back and forth and sucks lightly at the head. Benny tastes like the smell of a forest floor, like the river on a hot day, like the beach after the tide retreats. Cas sucks harder, bobbing his head back and forth, laving his tongue back and forth over the slit to chase the unique tang of him. Taste and touch. These two senses are the most human things he can think of. Angels don’t really ever pay them much mind. Sight, hearing and even smell are useful to a tactician, a soldier, but taste and touch are too… distracting. Cas has discovered a hedonism about himself since his humanity brought these two senses to the fore. He craves them both and he craves the salt and musk here at the heart of the vampire’s body. Releasing the weight of Benny’s cock from his lips he kisses down the length of the shaft. Using one hand to ground himself by clutching on to the body of the vampire, he uses the other to cup Benny’s balls, bringing them to his mouth. He shuffles closer to the vampire’s body as he draws his tongue over them. The taste is similar, darker but less bitter and the sounds the vampire makes as he drags gentle teeth over the ridged skin are a liturgy of sweetness.
He mouths his way back up the shaft, taking the head back between his lips before using both hands on Benny’s hips to make the vampire rock gently in and out of his mouth. Benny drops his hand from where it had been resting in Cas’ hair to curl it around the length of himself, fisting what won’t fit inside the angel. Cas curves his hands round to Benny’s ass, kneading and squeezing the flesh as he goes. As he ghosts his fingers down the crack, brushing the pads against puckered skin, Benny bucks his hips forward, shoving deep. The angel pulls back before he gags, and then deliberately presses forward, taking more of the vampire into his mouth and dragging his fingers over Benny’s hole. Benny moans deeply, rolling his hips back against the pressure of Cas’ fingers. Cas hollows his cheeks and sucks harder, bobbing his head as he increases his pace. Using one hand he alternates between pressing and rubbing at Benny from behind and with the other he wraps his fingers around the fist the vampire is using to stroke his own length. Benny’s hips begin to piston as he pushes back into Cas’ hand and forward into the heat of his mouth. With his free hand, he runs a thumb over Cas’ cheek, tracing where the angel’s lips are spread wide around him.
The bitter taste on Cas’ tongue grows stronger as the vampire’s rolling hips become more erratic. He’s drooling around the cock in his mouth, breathing hard as it drags along the inside of his cheek. Benny has his hands on either side of the angel’s head now, holding him in place as he pushes in, over and over. Fluttering his eyes closed, Cas gives himself over to the sensation of being held, of being guided and instructed. It fills him with a kind of glory that, stripped and bare as he is, he can still give so much joy. This is a power that no one can take from him, a purpose he has chosen for himself. He moans, throat fluttering around Benny’s thrusts causing a litany of praise to fall from the vampire’s mouth. Benny pumps himself past the angel’s lips until spit and pre come run from the side of them and Cas wipes his chin with one hand. He curls it back round Benny’s body to use one wet finger to breach the vampire’s rim, slipping into the heat inside. Benny’s body jerks against him, twitching as he shoots down the angel’s throat, crying out. The rush of liquid, bitter as herbed wine, fills Cas’ senses and he laps and suckles gently until Benny pulls away from him slightly, hissing and over sensitive. He lets the vampire’s softening cock slip out of his mouth and slowly rises to his feet. Benny’s arm encircles his waist drawing their bodies close together, the other dropping to wrap fingers around Cas’ cock where it bobs hard and leaking against his stomach. The vampire’s breathing is a harsh hymn in his ears and his heartbeat a tattoo against the angel’s skin as he begins to stroke. As Cas drops his head onto the vampire’s shoulder, their eyes meet. He curves his body into Benny’s, finally reaching his own release. As he spills on to the floor between their bodies he whispers, ‘Ecclesia meum inveni’.