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There's no doubt about it - Dean's mad at you. Actually, 'mad' is an understatement.. he's goddamn furious.
Sam was injured because of you. You were aiming for the vamp, but your positioning was off and you missed the target. You shot Sam in the shoulder, just millimetres short from piercing his heart.
"He could have died!" Dean yelled at you over and over, until the words now continuously echo throughout your head. It did not matter how much Sam tried to calm him down, tried to bring him around.. Dean's fury with you would not settle.
So now, you sit in the nearest bar to the motel that you're staying at, drinking away your sorrows with a glass of gin and tonic. You are just about to order another, when a familiar rich drawl of a British accent enunciates from behind you.
"Someone tells me you're in the bad books with Squirrel."
You turn to see the King of Hell standing there looking as dashing as ever. His black suit is pristine, and his red polka-dot printed tie emits a dull sheen beneath the soft lighting of the bar.
"How do you know?" you ask him with a pained expression.
"I might be keeping tabs on you." he responds honestly with a soft smirk, before taking a seat on the barstool beside you.
"He hates me." you shake your head. Tears have been threatening to fall ever since Dean had begun his tirade with you, but now that Crowley is here, a strange sense of comfort washes over you. Maybe his authority or his steady sense of masculinity is what cocoons you with a warm blanket of consolation, you aren't sure.
"Hardly." Crowley huffs in response to your subtle plea for pity, registering the waver in your voice. "Come on, darling. None of that. I've got something for you."
Crowley slides a small velvet box towards you, across the thick dark wood of the bars' counter.
"What is this, Crowley?"
"Open it, love." he gestures towards what you can only assume is a jewellery box of some sort. "The anticipation is killing me."
You gingerly take the velvet box and place it into one palm, before prying it open with a thumb and forefinger. Inside lies a bracelet made of burnt orange crystal stones. You hold it delicately between your fingers, admiring it as it glistens with each turn.
"It's beautiful," you whisper.
"Carnelian crystals," Crowley explains. "For bravery, courage and vitality."
"You didn't have to get me anything." you stare at the bracelet in awe. You're not used to receiving gifts, let alone gifts from the King of Hell.
"I wanted to," Crowley says simply, turning so he's facing you rather than the selection of drinks on display in front of them. "Those Winchesters are nothing but whining bastards sometimes, I wanted to do something to lift your spirits. Can't a demon spoil his lover?"
You slip the bracelet around your wrist and gaze at it as you twist it around. He lets out a hum of approval at his own choice of gift, and supposedly how it looks draped across your soft skin.
"We are barely lovers, Crowley." you say with an incredulous laugh.
"Barely?" Crowley chuckles in response to you. "Darling, with the amount of nights you and I have spent together, one might say otherwise."
"Just because your head has been in-between my thighs does not make us lovers," you sulk ever so slightly. "That implies there are feelings of love involved, which you have told me time and time again that you don't do."
"Yes, I don't do love, at least not in the traditional sense." Crowley glowers with playful annoyance, his finger tracing idle circles on the bar counter, before meeting your eyes once again. "But that doesn't mean I don't care."
You can sense the sincerity in his intonation, and you know this is all he can offer. But, oh, to hear him say that he loves you, even just once..
"Crowley," you sigh. "Let's not make this complicated."
Crowley takes your words as a dismissal, and he can't help but become bad-tempered by it.
"Right, it's just fun and pleasure, nothing more between you and I." he tries to dampen the bitterness that laces his voice with nonchalance when he speaks. "That's all."
You bristle. "There's no need to sound so harsh."
"I wasn't trying to, it's just.." Crowley sighs, the internal conflict he's struggling with visible across his face. He scrabbles to gain control back amongst the vulnerability of your conversation. "You know I don't do attachments. Sure, I can offer you sexual gratification and I can help you in terms of business when it suits, but nothing more. Don't ask me for more."
You blink at him, appalled. Wasn't he the one who just gifted you a bracelet? Who wanted to 'lift your spirits'? Now his jaw is set, his eyes hard and unfeeling, like an act of self protection.
"OK," you say bitterly. "Well, stop this merry dance, why don't you? Gifting me bracelets, acting like you care, acting like you.."
You pause before you can say it.. acting like he loved you.
When he hears you hesitate, his jaw twitches, his hands now clenched into fists. Feelings, those damn feelings that he always tries to push down, keep bubbling back up to the surface. It's weak. it's too human.
"I do care," he snaps, his eyes flickering with red smoke for a fraction of a second. "I just don't love. I'm not capable of it."
You are fuelled by pure emotional fury. He would never be able to love you like you wanted, so what are you doing? What are either of you doing?
You rip off the bracelet and chuck it back in his direction. "Then take it back. Take it back."
Crowley lets out a sardonic laugh, in attempt to conceal the pang of hurt that he feels by your action. "The gift? It's just a mere token, you pathetic girl. Nothing more, nothing less. You're reading too much into all of this."
"Ah, there it is." you toss a hand in his direction.
"There is what?" his eyes narrow at you before letting out a loud scoff. "You think I'm some kind of.. what, sentimental fool that's falling for you?"
Crowley can't even look at you, just in case you can see right through him. Not even he is sure how well he's presenting indifference right now, that's how out of his own depth he is.
"That's right, gaslight me!" you bark at him. "Make me feel as though I'm going crazy!"
"Enough with the 21st century idioms!" he growls through gritted teeth. "This is the truth. I am a demon, I don't love, and I sure as hell am not falling for you."
Crowley stands from his barstool abruptly, but you do too. He is about to put a thumb to his ring finger and teleport himself away from a difficult situation, like always, so you know you have to say something to make sure that he stays.
"That's right, Crowley." you hiss. "Take the easy way out."
Oh, that hit a nerve.
"You don't know the things I have done, the choices that I've had to make for my own survival." he snarls, pointing a finger at you. "Don't lecture me about easy."
You take his finger in your fist with offence. How dare he point a finger in your face like that.. something about it irks you. You stare at him as you let your next words fall from your tongue bitingly. "You're right. I have no idea what it's like to be you. Because I could never be as cold-hearted or as dismissive."
Crowley is frozen to the spot, silently bristling at your harsh contention. Cold-hearted and dismissive are words that he and others had used to describe his character for centuries, he's the King of Hell for gods sake, but hearing them from you.. it is like a stabbing.
"That's because you're human," the frustration has eased in his pitch, and replaced with a softer, more measured tone. "So gloriously human."
Your chest rises and falls, fuelled by anger, but now by something else too. The finger in your grip all of a sudden becomes so enticing. The truth is, you knew he would come here. He always does when you're wallowing and alone, and he always knows what you need. Lust tempted you here, and Crowley brings it out in you.
Your feelings for him are messy and tangled. You want to push Crowley away, before you can get more hurt.. but your body calls out for him. It craves him.
The air between you both grows thick with tension. Crowley senses your desire, he can practically taste it. The memories of your previous encounters flood your mind, and you can't tell if it's you that's remembering them, or him using his telepathy to coax them out through your shared touch.
"This doesn't change anything," Crowley warns with a rough thrum, a hint of neediness wrapped throughout. "This is just.. physical. We're not.. in love."
"We're not?" you murmur questionably, almost mockingly, before bringing his fingers to your mouth. You lick them seductively, your eyes fluttering shut, zeroing in on the teasing sensation.. wanting nothing more but to taste him.
Crowley watches with unadulterated hunger, submitting to the vermillion mist that fill the whites of his eyes. The sight of you sliding your tongue against his skin and the delicious wetness of its sensation, is enough to seclude him with raw need.
You suck and play with the tips of his fingers, all whilst physically responding to the touch of his other hand sliding up your thigh and skimming the fabric of your skirt. Crowley presses closer, until his hand is able to easily disappear beneath it. When he traces your entrance, you let out a soft moan against the pads of his digits that press against your lips.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the bartender and a couple of other customers watching your display with repelled stares. It's a matter of time until you get kicked out, you just know it.
"Fuck," you breath out heavily. Your surroundings tend to disappear when it's just you and the King of Hell. You had almost forgotten you were in public.
"Since you asked so nicely, darling." Crowley purrs, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, and using the slipperiness from your saliva to ease the snap of his fingers to teleport the two of you out of there.
Crowley teleports you to his chambers in Hell. A room decked out with luxurious old-fashioned furniture, including a large king-sized bed swathed in burgundy sheets made from the finest silk. Encased in his arms, you stand before it, with your face amorously close to his.
"Are you done berating me?" you speak near Crowley's mouth, the skin of your lips tickling his own.
"Shut that damn mouth of yours and kiss me." his demand is harsh but threaded with desperation, and he succumbs to it, closing the distance between you both before you are able to yourself.
The kiss you share is passionate, open-mouthed and wanton.. yet slow and fervent. Crowley's hands wander over your body, caressing you exquisitely, whilst yours lace themselves through the dark wispy hairs on the back of his neck, pulling him nearer to you needfully. Your tongue traces the rim of his lips in the same manner you had proactively titillated the rough pads of his fingers just moments before. Your teasing action elicits a soft growl to emerge from Crowley's throat, and you let him lure you backward until you're pressed against the smooth sheets of the bed and he's towering above you.
"You're bad for me," you murmur with needful whimper, immersing yourself in the sensation of his lips mouthing at the pulse point on your neck.
"Oh, I'm the worst," Crowley agrees, the vibration of his deep and addicting purr can be felt against your skin. He removes your shirt and bra with a simple snap of his fingers, before retreating from the curve of your neck to let his eyes rake over your exposed breasts. The palm of his hand traces up from your stomach, until it's cupping your squishy sensitive skin beneath his calloused fingers. "Your body is so delectable, darling. So ravishing."
Crowley leans down again, but this time, travelling from your neck down to the softness of your bare chest. His lips reach your exposed nipple, and he flicks a wet lick over it in a tantalising manner. You react to the tenderized touch by arching your back until your naked upper body is pushed into his clothed one with arousal.
This acts as a reminder to Crowley that there is still barriers between you both. Of course, he has to remedy this, and fast.. his hardened shaft can already be felt through his suit trousers, and he can't risk soiling them. How would he explain that stain to his tailor? With another pop of his fingers once again, the rest of your clothes and his disappear instantaneously.
"Do you have a condom?" you ask with a libidinous pant. Your core pulsates with need, but you are determined to practice safe sex. Whether that be a priority of his or not, it will always be yours. Neither of you have gone fully all the way with each other before, it's always just been bits and pieces, here and there. It has also been quick and gratifying in the past, rather than sensual and slow like you're enacting now. Crowley has seen more of your unclothed skin than you have seen of his. Having him completely bare above you is a first. It's vulnerable.. and dangerously appealing.
"Endless supply, darling," he mumbles near your temple, before letting his tongue trace the shell of your ear. He withdraws to flick his wrist, before effortlessly presenting you with a brand new box of them. "You forget I know magic."
"Well excuse me, for my mind is clouded at this moment in time." you reply in a playful and sarcastic manner, which elicits a wolfish grin from the enticingly naked demon that leers above you.
He abandons the box by your head that's laid against the sheets. "I'm not quite ready to fill you up just yet, love. I have more work to do."
You can still feel his smirk against your stomach and your thighs as he smothers them with wet-tongued kisses. The palms of his hands rest on the tops of your ankles, before sliding torturously upwards until he's lifting your knees and widening your legs with coaxing hands. Crowley bows his head, and you can feel his breath tickle your opening. He's purposefully withdrawing, and it's driving you insane with want.
"Beg," he speaks near your core, the air that escapes his mouth caressing your folds.
You plead between strangled moans. You call him by his name, then you call him your King. You lift your hips with the desire for his tongue to draw tempting patterns against your sensitivity.
Finally, Crowley yields to you. He slips his tongue between your slickness, and you're more than ready for the promise of further stimulation. First, he focuses his traces around your inner opening, then when you're writhing with the need for more, he begins to swirl beguiling circles around your clit.
Once Crowley is sure that you're on the cusp of your release, that's when he disengages his mouth from your centre. You whine at the loss of his captivating movements.
"Now now, darling." Crowley purrs. "Patience is a virtue."
You watch with pure exhilaration as he sheathes his well endowed cock. You had heard rumours that he had sold his soul for extra inches below the belt, and oh my, he must have been quite large before that deal.. because it's truly monstrous. No man you have ever been with had wielded such length and girth.
Crowley lines himself to your entrance, taunting you with just the tip at first, before delving inside of you fully. You gasp, and you know you're already close just from that first shift. Crowley grinds imperatively, grunting between whispered sweet yet dirty words that stroke your eardrums in accompaniment to each arousing manoeuvre. Your own hips thrust to meet his until your shared rhythm becomes erratic and desperate. It's not long until you both reach your explosive peaks, shortly after one another.
Afterward, you lay against Crowley's chest and listen to his now slowed and measured breathing. You're still bare for him, whilst he is covered by a black silk robe that compliments the material of the sheets that you lay beneath. This is uncharacteristic, aftercare following a sexual encounter between the two of you.. but today was different. It was intense and feeling, laced with unfamiliar vulnerability. Crowley's arm is draped around your shoulders, his thumb massaging the exposed skin of your forearm soothingly.
"I do feel something, darling," Crowley breaks the silence, and your head lifts from his clothed chest to meet his gaze. "And I hate every damn minute of it."
"I know you do," you whisper empathetically. It's the most vulnerable he's been with spoken word, and you want to welcome it with open arms. "And that's OK."