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No one ever told him it would be like this. That it would feel like this. That it would feel so good, so astonishingly good, that he would feel it in the marrow of his vessel’s bones and all the way to his grace. No one told him that it would feel so amazing that he would get lost in pleasure, to the point that he almost cries out his father’s name, just barely catching himself and biting back such treacherous words.

That would be it, the ultimate act of blasphemy.

Granted, he currently has the King of Hell buried deep inside of him, calling him little bird and telling him how incredible he feels. Praising him for taking him so well, and looking so absolutely perfect like this. Samandriel can only imagine how he must look, with his teeth buried in the sheets and his ass up, eagerly accepting every powerful thrust from Crowley, loud and desperate moans being wrung out of him with every roll of Crowley’s hips. He must look like a whore.

He sure is acting like one.

That’s what the other angel’s would say. But no, not just a whore, … a demon’s whore. That’s what they would call him. A wanton, mewling, greedy little demon’s whore. A sinful slut who’s just begging to be spread apart and filled up, pawing at the silk sheets while Crowley assaults his neck with his teeth and tongue.

How much farther can Samandriel fall in the eyes of Heaven? Is there any lower? The worst part is that Samandriel doesn’t care what Heaven thinks-not anymore. And why should he? After all that Heaven has done…Heaven dug in to Castiel’s mind, controlled him, made Castiel, Samandriel’s older brother, an angel who helped raise him and the one he looked up to the most, try to kill him. Plunge an angel blade deep into his stomach and put an end to him, on what was supposed to be a rescue mission. What kind of place would order something like that? Not the Heaven Samandriel grew up in. He may be young, but Samandriel knows that’s not the way things should be.

Heaven has not been Heaven in a long time …

He’d had his suspicions, things that didn’t add up, like small gaps in his and other angel’s memories, and not always being aware of what his body was doing until after. It wasn’t until Crowley dug into his mind, unearthing things that Samandriel wasn’t aware that he knew that Samandriel finally learned the truth about Heaven, about how they were controlling the angels, and all the horrific things they had made them do. Samandriel figures it was learning this, not the names of the prophets and any other information he divulged, is what prompted Heaven to declare him fallen, and worthy of death. And it was this reaction from Heaven that made him realize just how truly warped things had become. This betrayal from Heaven hurt more than anything Crowley ever did to him… Until Heaven returns to the Heaven that Samandriel loves, he can’t care what they think, it’s too painful.

So now, Samandriel’s main concern in life is Crowley, especially how Crowley makes him feel.

And how does Crowley make him feel? In his current position, on all fours with Crowley behind and inside him, Crowley is making him feel like the most desirable being ever in existence. Samandriel’s arms gave out a while ago, and every smooth, perfectly calculated slide of Crowley’s impressive length makes Samandriel shudder, still so unused to the powerful sensations that leave him a sobbing mess. Aside from the physical, his feelings towards Crowley get a bit more complicated. Before falling, before Crowley, all Samandriel’s life had been obedience. This is no longer the case.

Samandriel can now make his own choices, he is more than just a set of wings that blindly follows orders. Samandriel now has a voice, has the freedom to explore his likes and dislikes and get a better understanding of who he actually is, without fear of repercussion or having it erased from his memory. With Crowley Samandriel finds himself at a crossroads, because if it weren’t for Crowley torturing him and carving the truth about Heaven out of his mind, Heaven wouldn’t have ordered Castiel to kill him, but if Crowley hadn’t gone to such lengths, Samandriel would not know the awful truth…

Because of Crowley, Samandriel now has free will, the very thing Castiel had rebelled and fought for. It took a while for Samandriel to wrap his head around that.

Samandriel is aware that Heaven said that he was broken, and that was the ‘offical’ reason given for why he needed to die. For all he knows, Heaven could be right. Maybe he was broken long before he became Crowley’s prisoner. Thinking back, Samandriel was never really very good at being an emotionless marble statue, always getting too involved and asking too many questions…having too much heart. The angels in charge said that he would outgrow that by the time he hit 500, but he didn’t. Maybe he really is broken. If that is the case, it might help explain why being with Crowley makes Samandriel feel so safe. Samandriel feels protected here with Crowley, much more so than he ever did in Heaven, especially in recent years. That either says a lot about Crowley and how he treats his paramours, or a lot about the current conditions in Heaven. Samandriel figures it’s probably a mixture of both.

Broken or not, and despite what others would say, Samandriel is not naïve. He knows how crazy he must sound, saying he feels safe and protected underneath the King of Hell. Some would argue that’s it’s some form of Stockholm Syndrome that makes him feel this way, or a result of having his ‘factory settings’ tapped into, fogging his view of the demon, but it’s not anything like that. Samandriel is very well aware of the fact that Crowley is much stronger than him, and much more dangerous, he never loses sight of that. He never will. There is a reason Crowley has survived for so long, a reason that Crowley was able to claw his way to the top to become the new King of Hell. Samandriel is very well acquainted with that reason from brutal first hand experience. And yet, feeling Crowley’s warm and heavy weight against his back reassured him. There was something very comforting about Crowley’s embrace. Maybe it had something to do with the knowledge that someone so powerful, and capable of such horrific acts, now took care of Samandriel, in ways he never thought demons were capable of. Even though Crowley never outwardly apologized for what he did to Samandriel (and Samandriel doubted he ever would) he has been there for the angel at some of his most dire and desperate moments, aiding Samandriel when he had no one else to turn to*. Crowley may be the baddest of the bad, but he has a shocking amount of integrity, and Samandriel adores that about the demon. Thinking about it further, it’s not a surprise that Samandriel is drawn to the demon’s integrity, given the lack of it permeating Heaven at the moment.

As Samandriel had that thought, Crowley leant forward, plastering himself to Samandriel’s back fully. Samandriel keened at the new position, and blindly searched out one of Crowley’s hands with his. When he did find it, Crowley acquiesced to Samandriel’s wordless request and covered the angel’s hand with his own and interlocked their fingers. Crowley’s other hand made it’s way to Samandriel’s narrow hip and held it in a vice grip, sure to leave a bruise. Crowley’s thrusts are much deeper and a bit more ragged than before, their sole intention now to drive Samandriel over the edge, preferably without his cock being touched. Crowley loves to do that. Loves to make Samandriel an over stimulated, shaking mess, barely capable of coherent thought that spills all over himself. Samandriel cried into the pillow as Crowley’s cock found his prostate, and the angel rolled his hips the best he could to meet Crowley’s. The hand on Samandriel’s hip made it’s way back up to Samandriel’s free hand and interlocked their fingers, effectively caging Samandriel in and leaving him at the mercy of Crowley’s thrusts. Through his haze of pleasure, Samandriel is once again reminded of just how powerful Crowley’s body is, and how the demon could very easily break him if he were so inclined. Instead of scaring him, as it probably should have, Samandriel found this reminder surprisingly thrilling and it sent a hot coil of pleasure coursing through his body.

There were not many things left that frightened Samandriel. Quite frankly, his worst fears had already come true.

Heaven turning on the angel’s. Mind Control. Torture. Falling. Castiel.

It has all already happened, and he survived. And Samandriel was determined to continue surviving. He knew Heaven was not done trying to eliminate him. Samandriel knows the truth and he is a liability. This isn’t even factoring in that once news of Samandriel’s relationship with the King of Hell spreads, Heaven will do everything in their power to kill them both with even more fervor. While Samandriel knows Crowley can protect himself (and Samandriel, if the fancy struck him. Samandriel is under no illusions that he cares more for Crowley than Crowley does him) better than the angel ever could, the knowledge did nothing to stifle his worry. In place of the old fears the new fear of losing Crowley crept in, the thought sending a cold shiver through the angel’s veins, causing him to squeeze Crowley’s hand as a reassurance to himself. Samandriel’s feelings towards the demon were quite complex, but there was no denying that he cared very deeply for Crowley, and would be devastated losing him… Samandriel might even love him….

It was with that thought that Samandriel came with a loud sob, back arching and his fingers tightly laced with Crowley’s as he cried out the demon’s name in ecstasy as pleasure surged through him before he collapsed forward onto the bed, his body no longer able to hold both of their weights.

Euphoria washed over the young angel as he felt Crowley’s release warm his insides moments after, the demon coming with a low growl. Samandriel’s body hummed with afterglow and a strange happiness as Crowley fell forward on top of him, pinning the angel to the bed.

“Fuck, little bird, that was fantastic. You learn quickly”

Crowley’s praise rang throughout Samandriel’s grace as Crowley kissed the back of his head and carded his fingers through the angel’s hair, eliciting a soft smile from Samandriel. Samandriel paused, anticipating the feeling of guilt to wash over him and suffocate the moment as it normally would, but the feeling never came.