Chapter Text
The second time the guy ‘accidentally’ runs into Casey on the way home, he gets a good look at his a-little-too-perfect face and almost laughs.
“You got the chin wrong,” he says, hand ‘casually’ tapping the pocket that has his blessed knife. “Leo’s was more square.”
There’s a flicker of expression across the face the demon is wearing; surprise or annoyance maybe. But it keeps smiling. “This one is more proportional! ‘Artistic license’, you could say.”
“You haven’t introduced yourself yet either,” Casey meets the smile with his own, feeling the first spark of interest he’d had in… since. He’d landed here. “Waiting to be given a name? They’re always handing them out at the coffee shop.”
The demon’s smile closes, its eyes gone narrow as it studies Casey back. “Sounds like a third date thing, babe. Unleeessssssss…” it tilts its face close to Casey’s, on his knife side, smirking, and he can smell the enticement curling around him. “-you wanna skip the niceties? My place or yours?”
The enticement isn’t heavy enough to fog up his brain, more like the smell of coffee floating down the street after Casey clocks out of work. Ignoring it and putting his blade through this demon’s armpit would be easy. Should, in fact, be the only choice. Sex demons are in the higher tier of ability to pass as human and they get better every time they eat somebody. This one has not only taken Sensei’s face, but reworked it to look younger, look Casey’s age, give itself plausible deniability; that’s clever and dangerous.
If any one of his teachers were here, they would have already disposed of it and would be scolding him for being slow on the draw.
That thought slices through his chest like a hot razor.
The demon hasn’t moved back, hasn’t pressed any further in. It’s just watching his face with a thoughtful look, smirk gone. Casey lifts a finger to slowly brush at the lock of blond hair that’s curling perfectly past the demon’s temple. Sensei always had his pulled back in a messy ponytail
“Invite you past my wards or go somewhere I’ll never be seen again?” He meets the demon’s gaze. “Yours.”
The demon snorts, catching his wrist and brushing fingers along his pulse point, “not playing hard to get even a little bit?”
Casey shrugs, “seems like a waste of time.”
“Awwww, babe,” the demon’s breath washes over Casey’s skin like silk, everything will be fine, you’re safe now, TRUST me, “-time is something we have lots of.” Casey closes his eyes and breathes in; his training is pointing out the edges, how the fuzzy, pink feeling in his head is fake and untrustworthy, how this is a VERY stupid thing to do. But it’s covering the jagged edges in his chest, even… even for a little while.
“What do I call you?” He’s starting to feel lightheaded and it’s harder to make his mouth move.
The demon puts his mouth against the inside of Casey’s wrist, and Casey feels roughness like a cat’s tongue on his skin. “S’up to you, baby.” It tugs Casey to standing, and then walking, and Casey isn’t paying attention to the direction or his surroundings. “Call me anything you want.” The morning sunlight catches in its hair, making a gold halo. It’s slipped an arm around Casey’s waist, a band of iron he can’t break easily, even if he wasn’t willingly walking in step. The enticement is all around him now, filling his lungs, his head, swirling colors and warmth pushing back the shards where his heart used to be.
“…Leo.” He says, breathing it out like a prayer. “Do you- how’s ‘Leo’?” And since he’s not coming out of this alive, he adds, “you can call me Casey.”
Leo smiles at him, beaming with the sun all around them, and leans forward to brush their lips together. “Casey. We’re going to have some fun, you and I.”
Leo cups his cheek and Casey is aware of doors opening and closing, but he doesn’t remember walking through them. Leo smiles at him, eyes hooded, and leans in to nip the hinge of Casey’s jaw, and his clothes are on the floor somewhere behind him. When he hits the edge of the mattress and his knees give out, he blinks to enough awareness to notice soft sheets under him, a pile of blue blanket at the foot of the bed, and a mound of pillows in grey-blue striped cases behind him. Leo crouches over him, studying his face until Casey’s focus comes back to him.
“Second thoughts, baby?”
“No,” Casey looks past him to the gauze drapes hanging around the bed, “just checking out the scenery.”
“Then I am not doing my job right…” He strokes his thumb under Casey’s eye and for a moment the world goes pink and fuzzy again.
“Casey.”
His eyes snap open, heart thudding because that voice-
…doesn’t match the face looking down at him thoughtfully. Casey closes his eyes again, baffled to find tears prickling at the corners; he thought he’d ran out of those.
“Now there’s something interesting….” The hand on his face is gentle, but impossible to resist as it tilts his head back. “Casey,” the tone is deeper, but not as familiar, “what do you want, Casey Jones?
Casey opens his mouth, but his throat is too dry for any noise to escape.
“Not that,” Leo’s- the demon’s eyes are dark and Casey is falling into them. “That’s a later thing. C’mon, babe, gimme some choices.” Lips against his, gentle, and slowly opening until a tongue flicks against his teeth. “Mouth? Hands?” The tongue pushes past his teeth, pressing his tongue down, exploring almost to his throat before pulling back. “-wanna fuck me? Get fucked?” The demon- Leo- he is smiling wide at whatever expression is on Casey’s face. “‘Call you a good boy’? Sweetness, I was going to do that anyway.”
“I don’t… care.” His voice is rough, but it’s a little easier to talk. “It’s fine. Whatever you’ll give me.”
The- Leo’s eyes narrow a little, and he runs a hand through Casey’s hair, tugging gently. “Hm. Game’s no fun if you don’t play, sweet thing. So we’re gonna do things a little out of order…” His hands are on Casey’s face again, still gentle, still impossible to break away from, and he licks into Casey’s mouth. And his tongue keeps going. Keeps pushing until it’s in Casey’s throat, molding itself to his esophagus, he inhales in panic, he CAN inhale, and it keeps pushing, Leo’s fingers are tracing patterns on his face, and he can feel every inch of where their skin is touching, and the fear, the panic, the instinct to bite down and RUN- dulls.
He’s safe. He can breathe. Nothing is wrong. He’s warm from Leo on top of him, his fingers are interesting sensations on Casey’s face, and the ache in his chest that never leaves-
Is it leaving?
No, he can feel the shape of it, still there. But the weight… lightens. The fog of I don’t care is pushed back, leaving room for his body to start shouting its interest. And Leo’s mouth is on his, and he’s humming a laugh as Casey’s hips move restlessly, and his tongue licks up and up it’s inside never touching anything like a gag reflex, petting just like Leo’s fingers, and Casey whines when it leaves his mouth and Leo smiles down at him. “What do you want now, Casey Jones?”
Casey’s inhale is ragged as he reaches for Leo’s shoulders, “Mouth. Definitely… to, uh, to start.”
Leo’s smile widens into a grin, “Thought so.”
It was early morning when Casey left work, and the sun is coming in golden through the windows now. It catches in Leo’s disheveled hair as his mouth slides along Casey’s cock, the canopy turning everything a slightly hazy shade of yellow. Casey buries his hands in Leo’s hair and loses himself in the wet heat. When white explodes behind his eyelids, the first thing he remembers hearing is “You’re being SO pretty for me, Casey, just like that, good boy.” and he’s being held, and there’s fingers combing through his hair.
“Roll over,” Leo says, “now that you’re all warmed up.” And he pulls Casey on top of him, wraps his legs around (and around?) Casey’s waist, here, and “just there, baby, that’s my good boy,” and Casey follows orders, watches Leo’s face as he hums and arches up and trills and faster and “put your back into it, Casey Jones,” and “say ‘please’ first, baby,” and “you’re so sweet like that, come here-” and again the push of tongue into Casey’s mouth, and everything getting easier. He’s tired, but his muscles are loose with exertion. Water appears in front of him, “Drink this, Casey,” and he obeys. It’s familiar; the effort, the voice, “Do that again,” the smell of sweat, skin straining against skin, and that’s enough, that’s worth it.
A hand between his shoulders, pushing him down, “Keep breathing for me, babe,” and his awareness narrows to hands sliding down his back and Leo’s tongue pushing in again, and again, until Casey’s ears are ringing with his own noise, and the sheets twist in his hands, damp with sweat, and Leo laughs above him, “You’re such a treat, baby.” Whatever pushes in next is thicker, harder, hotter, and feels like it shoves all the way to Casey’s throat. The voice behind his ear is deeper now, gentle, and a hand splays across his throat to hold him still. “You’re perfect for me, Casey, you’re such a good boy, I’m so pleased with you-” until he’s sobbing, gasping for breath until it’s driven out of him, and the voice he trusts tells him he can let go.
The sheets are cool under him, the light dim, and there’s a hand combing through his hair. He struggles against the sleep that wants to take him, and the voice that he wants more than anything shushes him. “Go to sleep, Casey Jones.”
He grabs the hand’s wrist, “I don’t-“ his voice is a croak, and he has to swallow twice, “please.”
“Don’t what, baby?” Gentle, trust me.
“…do it quick. I don’t want… any dreams. Please?”
The fingers trace down the ridge of his nose, “You got it, Case.”
He doesn’t relax until the tongue pushes down his throat, down, down until he thinks he can feel it in his chest, and he’s safe, he’s cared for, he can just let go and drift into the warm dark…
Casey wakes up in dim, evening light, the drapes pulled up to the ceiling. He is alive. And alone.