Chapter 7

Casimir

"Rory!" My head is dramatically draped back over the edge of the bathtub as I stretch out his name.

"What?" he shouts, voice far away. There's a tinge of irritation in his tone, although I find it hard to believe. I'm delightful.

"Can we please go do something? I'm so… bored!"

Several days have passed since our escapade in the bedroom, and he's committed to pretending it never took place, while I pretend something inside me didn't irrevocably shift. It's been business as usual as I taunt and tease, keeping up the aloof air he expects from me. Flirting and offering my services whenever an opportunity arises to no avail. Twice now he has banished me to the bathing room to do my business instead of offering a helping hand.

Rude, honestly.

"You can't be trusted to leave the house," he says, his voice growing nearer.

"Can't be trusted to leave the house," I mimic under my breath, rolling my eyes. "Of course I can," I say louder, my tone taking on a touch of indignation.

A shadow falls under the gap at the bottom of the door, and I grin as I sense his hesitation. He finally walks in and lets out a very loud, very dramatic gasp. "Cas!" He sounds so panicked, it startles me.

"What is wrong?" I ask, jumping to my feet as water sloshes over the edges of the bathtub.

His eyes are enormous as he scans the bathroom, then turns his gaze at me. The intensity of his glare makes me feel like I'm in the crosshairs of a sniper rifle, my defenses rising. "What… what did you do?"

I frown, glancing at the tub, wondering if maybe his eyesight isn't great. "I ran a bubble bath."

"Why…" His hand hits his forehead and drags all the way down his face. Slowly. Like, really, really slowly. "Why are there bubbles all over the floor, Cas?"

I shrug, scanning the frothy bathroom. "It said to add a cap full, but I couldn't find a hat, so I guessed."

He mutters a string of angry words that might be curses, causing me to furrow my brow and step out of the bath. An angry warlock is a dangerous one, no matter how adorable. The soapy tile makes me frantically windmill my arms as I try to regain stability, my feet sliding on the slippery bubbles until I catch myself.

Somehow, he looks even more annoyed. I heave a sigh, my shoulders slouching. "What have I done now?"

It seems I'm not very good at being a human.

"A cap means… the lid, Cas. The tiny, itty-bitty little white lid that screws onto the bottle. Not a hat. " My lips purse, and I pull one side between my teeth, staying silent. I have my suspicions about which one of us is right, but I don't want to argue with him in his own home.

I scoop a handful of bubbles from the countertop and hold them in my cupped hands. "Would a bubble bath make it better?" When I raise my arms, his eyes narrow into tiny slits, mean little shards of glass.

"If you put that on my head, I will end you ," he growls, sounding more like a demon than any actual demon I've ever met.

The bubbles float to the ground as I nod innocently. "Right, I wasn't going to… do that…"

That's a lie.

I was.

"You seem upset and kind of stressed," I point out, and his eyes somehow narrow even further as they meet mine. "Do you need another orgasm?"

"No!" he snaps, and I take a protective step back from his wrath. "No, Cas, I don't need an orgasm. What I need is for the troublesome demon that showed up at my house…"

"You summoned me," I interrupt, but he ignores me.

"… to leave so I can get back to having a real life!" Now, I like Rory. Care about him a great deal, even, and definitely want to have sex with him. His stress and anger are not something I enjoy witnessing.

But—and this is a big, italicized but—I'm not ready to return to Hell when I haven't had a chance to experience the world beyond these four walls yet.

"Why don't you get out of the house?"

"And take you with me, right?" he asks, dryly.

"Well, that's one option, yes. You can trust me to behave."

His eyes move up to mine so slowly I think he's frozen in time for a moment. "No, Cas. No, I absolutely cannot." He sighs again, putting his hands on his hips. "What I need to do is figure out how to reverse the spell I cast and send you back home."

Ouch. I try to ignore that strange pinch in my chest.

"Maybe I could help," I suggest, and he casts a doubtful glance my way. I scoff, unable to hide my irritation as I say, "Oh, come on. I know far more about magic than you."

One skeptical eyebrow climbs his face as he glances around the bubble-filled room. "Cas, no offense, but…"

"Ah, ha!" I exclaim, and he jumps and jerks his eyes back to mine. "I have heard of this. It is a phrase humans use right before they are rude."

"That's not true." His hesitation tells me he doesn't believe his own argument.

"It is," I insist. "My friend told me all about it. If a human says, ‘No offense,' or ‘Bless Your Heart,' or ‘Respectfully,' it always means they are about to say something mean to you. It's an indisputable fact." He falls silent, his lips pressed together and twitching as if he wants to challenge me but realizes that I am right.

"You don't have to be rude, because it's the truth. I'm well versed in magic." I gesture around the room with a flourish before I snap my fingers. A look of surprised awe crosses his face as the bubbles and water vanish, leaving the bathroom clean and dry. "Demons are born with their own magic and study that of the witches for most of our lives."

His mouth hangs open a hair before he shakes his head. "You can do magic and you're just now telling me this?"

"You didn't ask," I shrug, and he glares again, so I hurry to distract him. "Allow me to examine that spellbook and the spell you used. I may be able to unravel it. It can't hurt to let me try." That's… a big lie, because it actually could hurt—a lot—but we'll keep that to ourselves for now.

"Wait… wait, wait, wait…" He stares at me for long, drawn-out moments, pulling his lips between his teeth, and then his head tilts the tiniest bit to the side. It's absolutely terrifying. "Just a gosh-darned second… you can do magic?"

"… yes?" I stretch the word out, confused, because I've already answered this question.

He appears thoughtful as he grips his chin and nods, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You could've been wearing clothes this whole time?" My eyes widen momentarily before I whip around and bend over to release the stopper.

If I don't look at it, it can't see me.

"Like, right now, for example?" he continues, and I hum a little tune to get the point across that I can't hear him. "You could… I dunno… not be showing me your butthole because you'd have pants on."

"Why would I wear pants in the tub, Rory?" I ask, standing straight because I actually was flashing him my asshole, and not in a sexy way. The moment I realize I've responded, I wince, my shoulders tensing.

So much for that ruse.

He practically screeches as he asks, "So, that's a yes?!"

My loud humming starts again, nonchalantly drying myself with the towel before walking past him and pretending I can't see him either. What's the phrase humans use? See no evil, hear no evil, only do enough evil to have fun? He thwarts my attempt to escape through the door by darting in front of me, and I crash into him. I grab his arms to steady both of us, my dick immediately taking notice of the friction.

When his eyes widen, I grin, realizing he feels what he's doing to me. "Put some clothes on," he hisses, gaze locked on mine, and I sigh. It's a direct command, so I have little choice.

"Fine." A quick thought is all it takes to summon a pair of pants, and he wilts in relief.

"Thank you…" He steps back and then sucks in a breath as his eyes slide down my body. " Cas, " he moans, and I bite my smile between my lips. "That is… not what I meant!"

I glance at the gray sweatpants that hug my legs, my dickprint perfectly visible through the thin material. "You said clothes, and I put on clothes."

"Cover yourself!"

"I am covered!" I argue, gripping my cock through the fabric and sliding my hand along my length. "You can't even see any skin."

"Every vein is on display, Cas. Every vein!"

"Want to feel them?" I ask, grinning at him as I stroke myself again. As I step closer, he counters it, retreating until he's against the wall. "You're allowed to touch, sweet Rory," I purr, inching my mouth to his ear. "Touch me, taste me… fuck me. You can do anything you want to me."

He whimpers, an unwanted, helpless sound, as I grab his wrist and inch his hand towards my cock. When his palm lands on my shaft, both of us let out a groan as his fingers wrap around me.

"That's it… just like that," I murmur, giving a slight rock of my hips and closing my eyes at the sensation of my covered cock sliding through the cage of his grip.

"This means nothing," he whispers, his fingers warm against my stomach as he pulls my waistband back and slips his hand inside.

A groan tears from my throat as he pumps me slowly, squeezing in a rhythm as he strokes my cock. Up and down, he explores every ridge, reaching further to roll my balls between his fingers and giving them a slight tug. My lips find his ear, tongue slipping around the shell before drawing his lobe between my teeth and gently scraping.

My hands land on his ass, tugging him closer and wedging his hand and my erection between our bodies. Another of those delicious whimpers reaches my ears as I slip under his pants. A single finger slides between his cheeks, circling his rim, and his grip on my cock tightens.

"Oh, you like that, don't you? Sweet Rory really does enjoy ass play, doesn't he?"

His moan is quiet in the back of his throat, and he only whispers one word. "Yes," he murmurs, and I snarl as I push him against the wall, my hips thrusting forward with more power.

My voice emerges as a deep, guttural whisper beside his ear as I say, "I want to bend you over and fuck you until that tight hole squeezes around me. My cock in that needy ass… my fingers jerking you." I nip his earlobe as he yelps. "Fill you until I drip out of you."

I grin at his whimpers, pulsing my fingertip against his hole as my lips travel along his jaw. "Condom…"

"No," I insist, and he gasps as the tip of my finger slides through, gently pushing into him. "No condom. Humans and demons can't pass diseases, and I want to feel you with nothing between us. I'll come inside you until I'm finished with you." He realizes his hand has stilled and returns to stroking me as I hum an approving rumble into his ear. "Demons aren't like humans, Rory. I'll fill you until it's gushing out of you, and then do it again. Over and over, I'll soak you until it runs down your legs, marking every inch of your skin with my scent. Is that what you want? To be my little cum slut?"

When he only whines and rocks against me, I weave my fingers through his curls and force him to look at me. The mossy green glitters in the sunlight, sparkling like emeralds with the fire behind his eyes, and I realize how easily I could get lost in their depths. "Answer me."

He either refuses to form words or has lost the ability to do so. I remove my hands from his body and put a few inches of space between us, my lips still near his ear. "You'll ask for what you want, or you won't get it."

His head thunks on the wall, gaze moving to the ceiling as he releases a series of quiet, frustrated grunts. "Cas," he whispers, and his eyes finally drop to mine.

Drawn to him, pulled into his gravity, I can't stay away.

I take a half step forward, leaning my forearm against the wall and hovering over his body. "What do you want, Rory?"

"I… I want…" His pupils are blown out and his breathing is rapid as I stare down at him, wanting him more than I'm willing to admit even to myself.

"Go on," I purr, sliding my knuckles along the bottom of his chin.

A rough swallow works his throat, and he squeezes his eyes closed. "I want to find the spell to send you home and put my life back to normal."

Damn.

I mean… damn.

Unexpected hurt rips through me as I recoil, his rejection hitting me like a physical force. Something in my chest cracks, and I take a step backward as he opens his eyes and looks at me again, pleading. "Cas, it's not that I don't care about…"

"Yeah, okay," I say, turning away, thankful for once for my new pants as I shove my hands into my pockets.

He takes a tentative step closer. "I'm not a fling type of guy, Cas, and we both know this is temporary…"

"I said okay!" I bellow, whirling to face him and watching his eyes widen at the storm of power that swirls around me. For the first time since he summoned me, Rory looks truly afraid.

Of me.

Even if I wanted to hurt him, I couldn't. The unbreakable bonds between a demon and their summoning witch forbid it. But does he really think so little of me?

Hurting him is the last thing I want to do, but he's right.

This is temporary, and I'd do well to remember that.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," he whispers, and even though it's painful, even though my chest splinters apart with the mockery of it, I force a smug smirk onto my lips.

"As you've repeatedly pointed out, Rory, I'm a demon. Evil, remember? According to you, that means I don't have feelings."

"I never—"

"Give me the book."

"What?" He blinks a few times, confused.

"Give me the spellbook so I can find a way home. Let me be around people who actually want me there." It's petty, and as he flinches, there's no satisfaction. Only guilt.

"Cas…" The waver in his voice makes my eyes soften. "I'm sorry, alright? I am. It's… having you here… having you want me, is messing with my head. You're… gorgeous and sweet, and I'm just…"

"Just what?" Gorgeous? Amazing? Everything I've ever wanted but never knew I was missing? Unable to bear his insecurity, I give in, hugging him against me.

He fits in my arms like he was always meant to be there, and it hurts more than it should to realize that.

"Just me," he breathes, and I heave a loud sigh as I squeeze him tighter.

"You're perfect, Rory—absolutely perfect. Never doubt that. Never let anyone take away your light." We stand for a minute like this, wrapped up in each other, before I find my resolve. "Let me look over the spellbook, okay? I'll see what I can do."