tebtosca

Title: Sweet Surrender
Pairing: Casey/Victor; Casey/Meg
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1119
Warnings: Noncon (of the demon vessel variety); bloodplay
Disclaimer: Don't own, still broke
Summary: Casey was a good girl. The demon had forgotten what that's like.

Written for Demon Week at all_spn and because My Beautiful Demon Princess Casey is my faaaaaaaaavorite

Casey was a good girl.

She went to a local college so she could stay close to her sick mom. Worked at the bar on weekends to help pay tuition but never really drank herself. Dated a guy named Tim who’s greatest vice was an obsession with graphic novels. Liked cardigans and Lucky Charms and “I Love Lucy” reruns.

The demon that invaded Casey’s body knew all of this information because Casey told her. Kept Casey’s voice right under the surface, scratching at the skin from the inside like an embedded insect. The demon liked to hear Casey tell her story over and over again, frantic and yet hopeful, like it would do any good. Like the demon would let Casey go free just because she felt sorry for her and her simplicity. What Casey didn’t know is that the demon liked feeling like a part of someone.

The demon inside of Casey had been a girl once, long ago. Small and scared and so very human. She had a name, but the demon had long since forgotten it. It was pulled and twisted from her like saltwater taffy as her invisible body was pressed to the rack in the deepest bowels of the Pit. All the bits that made up her humanity were contorted, pressurized, picked at like a scab, until finally, finally, it was just gone. Mercy in the Pit was not remembering how to be human in the first place.

The demon liked Casey’s body. She would twist the long strands of chestnut hair between her fingers, holding them up to the light until the tint of it looked almost like hellfire. She would run her thumb across the slightly crooked teeth, intrigued by the imperfection. She would squeeze the ample breasts, tugging on the nipples with cruelty just to see them redden. She went to a tattoo parlor and had ink branded on to Casey’s arm, biting Casey’s lip to keep from smiling at the voice of Casey inside crying out “please, no, what will my mother say!”

“You’re mother is dead,” the demon said simply, looking at Casey’s reflection in the mirror. “I figured I’d be nice and let you sleep through the funeral.”

Casey wept deep in her own mind as the demon laid in Casey’s bed and rubbed Casey’s fingers against Casey’s clit to orgasm.

+++++++

The demon inside Casey was in love with someone. Or she thought she would have been, if she could remember what that meant. The demon she loved settled in the body of the priest who gave Casey her first communion. Both demons thought that last bit was hilarious.

But the priest and her love weren’t there the night a tall, good-looking man in a suit just a little too big for him walked into the bar and sat down in front of her. He had skin like mahogany and dark eyes that were half-lidded as he flicked them up and down Casey’s body.

“Scotch on the rocks, my lady,” he requested, his voice somehow clipped and lazy at the same time, the words dripping out like a leaky faucet.

“Coming right up,” the demon smiled, pouring him a neat shot of Johnnie Walker and sliding it across the bar to him.

The demon knew his type: law-enforcement; jaded; the need to save the world mixed up with the acknowledgement that it was near impossible. The only people bleaker than folks like him were hunters, and that’s only because they had a closer glimpse into the possibility of evil.

“So, Agent, what brings you to town?” the demon asked, raising Casey’s perfectly arched eyebrows teasingly.

The man narrowed his eyes slightly, obviously surprised that he was made so easily. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and tipped back his drink before answering. “Crazy stuff going on around town. People dying. You know anything about that, Barkeep?”

The demon leaned over the bar, Casey’s elbows pressing her cleavage a little higher in her tank top. “Do you think I need someone to keep me safe, Agent…?”

The agent’s fingers drummed against the empty glass as he looked at her. “Henriksen. But if I’m going to be doing any protecting then you can call me Victor.”

Humans were weak.

+++++++

People always believed in the cliché that Hell was purely hot. In some ways it was hot, in the same way that it was everything. But mostly it was like a cold iron fist dipping into your intestines and ripping you apart from the inside out. The chill never died, just penetrated the deepest parts of you until even the possibility of thawing out seemed like the miracle you were taught never to hope for again.

That’s why the demon snuggled Casey’s body tight to the side of the weary FBI agent. They laid together in the queen bed in the non-descript hotel room that was one bureaucratic red stamp above a motel room. He had fucked Casey’s body for over an hour, licking her tight pussy open just enough to slide in while large hands gripped slim hips and left bruises that the demon would press on the next day.

The demon pressed Casey’s face to the agent’s armpit, the warmest part of the man’s body. She reveled in the heat pulsating from him, daring it to make her feel whole and alive. The demon kept Casey way deep down, not wanting to share this sensation with her or anyone else.

Humans were weak, but sometimes they were useful.

+++++++

The demon that liked to call herself Meg—Casey’s sister and compatriot and the one who first picked up the blade against her as she laid on the rack—smoked down into the body of flaxen-haired captain of the cheerleading squad at the local high school to check up on her and her love. Meg always did like pretty little meatsuits.

“How’s my girl doing?” Meg whispered, the cheerleader’s face pressed against Casey’s thigh as she used a pen-knife to carve circles in Casey’s skin. Blood dripped casually down Casey’s pelvis and Meg used the cheerleader’s tongue to catch each drop.

“Everything’s going as planned,” the demon gasped, the cheerleader’s tongue using Casey’s blood to slick the way as it suckled Casey’s clit.

“We need to be ready for when He comes. We need to make the world ready,” Meg insisted around her mouthful, and the demon found it hard to concentrate on the speech she’d heard a million times before as three of the cheerleader’s fingers jammed cruelly inside of Casey’s vagina.

“It will be, I promise,” the demon cried out, and she believed it like nothing else she had believed since she had forgotten her own name. “I have faith.”

The demon noticed later that the cheerleader’s body wasn’t warm like the FBI agent’s so she pulled Casey’s arms around herself to keep out the chill.