Sam and Crowley: Part Two
Title: Sam and Crowley
Summary: Post Season 7.
Sam struggles after losing Dean. He ends up calling one of the few people still living, almost by accident.
Characters: Sam, Crowley
Pairing: Sam/Crowley
Wordcount: 2060
Timeline: Post Season 7
Genre: Primarily Hurt/Comfort.
Warnings: Sex scene, roleplaying
Part 1 - Part 2
Sam was confused.
Like, really confused.
Crowley wouldn’t touch him.
Before, Crowley wouldn’t touch him, say, sexually, but now, now he wouldn’t touch Sam at all. And he hated it. He’d gotten used to curling right up to Crowley when he slept, and feeling the demon stroke through his hair, and damn it - if Sam tried to initiate a kiss or a hug or something, Crowley just pushed him away.
After three weeks of it, Sam just couldn’t take it.
He just dropped to his knees in front of the demon and fucking begged.
“This won’t just be sex, Sam.” Crowley said.
“I know, and I-“
“It’smagic, Sam. I will chant as I fuck you harder than you’ve ever felt in your bloody life.”
Sam swallowed. Then, after a pause, he nodded.
Crowley stared. “Fine. Bed, now.” Sam scrambled from his knees andranfrom the kitchen, stripping off his clothes and throwing himself onto the bed. He just wanted Crowley to touch him and like him again.
After a few minutes, Crowley came in.
Sam tried to sit up and turn to him, but the demon waved a hand and his wrists and ankles were lashed to the bed, limbs drawn up tightly. Sam shivered at that, the shudder showing in the thick muscle of his shoulders.
When Crowley moved onto the bed, he straddled Sam’s hips, and the ex-hunter realised the other man was naked. He swallowed again, the sound audible in the now silent room.
Then, Crowley began to paint something onto his back, a thick liquid that didn’t dry even in the warmth of the bedroom. It tickled, and at first Sam didn’t realise what it was.
But then he could smell it and it was everywhere. “No!” He shook his head. “No demon blood!”
“You’re not going to drink it, Sam.” Crowley assured him. “I won’t let you.”
“Crowley-“
“Shush, now. You’re safe, darling, you won’t be able to drink it.” Sam relaxed a little, and Crowley began to murmur quietly in a harsh language Sam hadn’t heard before. The symbols Crowley had painted on his back burned, and Sam hissed and shivered again.
“Hush, you’re alright, love.” Crowley murmured, soothingly stroking over Sam’s hip. Then there were two wet fingers teasing at his entrance and he gave a low sound, the heat of the symbols and Crowley’s fingers a little too much.
Crowley pressed forward, scissoring and deftly, quickly preparing the ex-hunter.
“Crowley.” Sam whined plaintively. “Now.”
The demon huffed, half-amused, and began to press in with his cock, making Sam take in harsh breaths because fuck but he hadn’t done this in a long time, not since a bit of experimentation when he’d still been at Stanford.
“G-god, Cro-” Sam yelped as Crowley tightly grasped at his hair and pulled his head back, growling into his ear.
“It’s fine elsewhere, but don’t you ever call out to any of the Gods in this bed.” Sam whimpered, because the angle hurt, but Crowley didn’t seem to care. “I’m fucking you. Me, only me, it will only ever be me.”
Sam nodded desperately, and the demon let go of his hair, grasping at his hips again to dig in with his fingernails and fuck into Sam hard, roughly, making the hunter whine and beg.
Sam made a long, drawn-out moan as Crowley dragged his cock over his prostate again and again. “G- Cr- Crow- Sir!” And that last bit came in the tiniest of broken whines. This was the reason he’d only been fucked the once before, because he was such a fuckingfreak. The demon stopped abruptly, balls-fucking-deep and he wouldn’t move.
“What did you call me?” It was asked softly, Crowley’s tone as smooth as silk, and Sam shivered.
“Sir. I’m sorry, I wo-“
“Oh, yes you will.” Crowley grinned, nipping at Sam’s neck. “Crowley or Sir. Got it?”
Sam wanted to laugh. And yell. And hit Crowley so he would move, damn it.
“Yes- yes, sir.” His voice sounded tiny and weak, but he didn’t get long to worry about it because then Crowley started thrusting into him again. Sam gave a tiny keen of sound as Crowley began to fist his cock, and Sam’s hips bucked into it automatically.
He came not long after, but Crowley kept going. Sam was oversensitive but he still wanted more, and fuck yes, Crowley kept going.
--
Later, Sam lay on the bed in a daze. There were bruises and scratches all over his lower back and hips, and his ass felt sore and used. The sigils Crowley’d painted onto his back were still there - they now felt thick, the skin beneath them raised up. They wouldn’t come off now.
Crowley sat next to him, drinking a glass of Craig and reclining on the pillows. He didn’t look nearly as tired as Sam felt, by rights, he should be. He blinked at the demon, tiredly, and Crowley offered a smile.
Sam smiled back. He crawled a little closer, so that he could rest his head on Crowley’s thigh, and the demon let him, beginning to stroke through Sam’s hair.
Sam let his eyes close, enjoying the feeling of sheer bliss. He was glad he’d made that first call.
--
For the next few days, they had a lot of sex. Sam was in Heaven.
“That’s ironic.” Crowley had snarked when he’d voiced the thought. But Crowley was so good to him.
Eventually, Crowley said they had to go elsewhere, be nearer to where the demon worked.
Sam had been nervous about it at first, but the place was nice, really, and cut off - way off - from the rest of Hell. Crowley had placed their house (mansion, really) slap-bang in the middle of what Crowley called “administration”. The administrative sector of Hell hadn’t really existed at all, before Crowley had been in charge.
But the demon had a distinct liking of having paper copies of every contract, and of keeping details on every new denizen in Hell, demons and tortured souls alike.
However, Sam imagined that Crowley’s own record had been “lost” and incinerated long ago.
The administrative sector was massive, ensuring that even if Sam wandered he would never stray into the areas where souls were tortured, and thus wouldn’t be emotionally scarred or whatever.
The mansion itself wasn’t much unlike the house Dean and Sam had first found Crowley in. It was warm, and well decorated. The rooms they used the most were Crowley’s office (Sam had been fucked over Crowley’s desk many times already, and Sam imagined that this corporate thing was a big kink of Crowley’s), the library (Sam still loved to research, even if there was no hunting), the kitchen (Crowley could cook really well, apparently) and the living room.
The latter was a pleasant enough affair, with all-leather furniture and red walls. There was an old-fashioned drinks cabinet in the corner, with mostly just bottles of Craig, and along with a few shelves of books, there was a television.
Sam’s favourite thing at the moment (perhaps other than being fucked on that magnificent piece of well-carved, mahogany artwork) was curling against Crowley’s side and watching an old movie with him.
The demon had a collection of vintage films, and when there was a quiet bit in the movie, he’d stroke Sam’s hair and tell him which actors had made deals, what for, and so on.
Once, that would have bothered Sam, he supposed.
Now, it didn’t.
--
Sam shivered with nervousness as he paced the room.
He wasn’t so sure about this any more. He glanced at himself in the mirror.
The suit was a very dark blue, and pinstriped with silver. The buttons on the jacket were silver and well-polished so they shone in the light, and he wore a soft, grey tie to match the stripes on his suit around the collar of his white shirt.
His shoes were polished as well, and Sam had combed his hair back a bit to make himself look neater, more… professional. To top it off were a pair of rimless spectacles that were perched on the end of his nose. He didn’t need them, of course - 20/20 visionforever was a pretty awesome perk of being with Crowley - but they topped off the look.
He just didn’t know that he had the sheer balls to do this.
But then, it’d taken a lot of work to sneak about the administrative sector until he’d found a demon that’d used to be a tailor and convince him to make Sam a suit. They all had to do what Sam said as long as it didn’t conflict Crowley’s orders, but convincing it not to tell Crowley had been really hard.
He had to go through with it now. Picking up the red folder he’d gotten hold of (it was empty, merely there for effect), he walked from the bedroom and down the hall.
Crowley was alone in his office.
Fuck, he hoped the demon would play along and like this.
He knocked on the door. After a pause, the King of Hell called, “Come in.”
Crowley smirked when he entered the room, opening his mouth to say something. But then he faltered, taking in Sam’s state of dress and the way he’d tilted his head slightly to the side.
“Sam Winchester, sir.” He said in a clear, crisp tone of voice, making the demon raise his eyebrows. “Your new personal assistant.”
For a moment, Crowley stared.
Then, he grinned, predatory.
“Are you, now? I was told you were arriving yesterday.”
“Administrative error, sir, must have been.” Sam replied, feeling hot under all the layers of his suit now he realised that Crowley was going to really like this whole role-play thing.
“Oh?” Crowley stood, grinning. “Read me off what you can do then.”
“You didn’t read my file, sir?” Sam asked, looking down at the demon and acting like he assumed a real assistant would.
“Why should I have, when I’ve got the real thing here? Your abilities, please.” Crowley requested sharply.
“I average eighty words a minute, sir, and can work with all manner of computers. I’m well acquainted with various filing systems,” Crowley began to walk around him, examining the suit, examining Sam. “And- and I’m very good in regards to corp-“
“How well can you suck a cock, Mr Winchester?”
Sam’s mouth opened and closed before he managed to get back into character. “I- Sir!” He spluttered, scandalised. “I assure you I will not-”
“Not even if it means losing your job?” Crowley broke in silkily. Sam closed his mouth.
“I- Sir, please, don’t fire me.”
“Then get. On. Your. Knees.” Crowley grinned.
Making himself shake slightly, Sam obeyed. He stared at Crowley’s groin for a moment before reaching out to slowly unzip him.
“Good boy. Now carry on…”
Roleplaying quickly turned into one of Sam’s favourite things, and Crowley’s too, if Sam was judging it right. Sam soon had a selection of different suits, sets of suspenders, smart shoes, and spectacles to work with.
--
Not all the demons were happy with the new man in charge, but by Sam’s judgement, most of them were either pretty pleased or apathetic. He wandered around the administrative sector a lot when he got bored, and just chatted to various demons.
The ones here were the ones that didn’t torture - after all, there were only so many that needed to be manning the racks - and Sam thought that quite a few of them were pretty okay.
He guessed he wouldn’t have thought that at all, before. But y’know, he had to adapt.
The demons that were against Crowley were being tortured, as far as Sam knew. He knew that Meg was kept locked up and that Crowley occasionally went and attacked her. And he knew that every demon in the administrative sector was screened in case one of them came into contact with Sam.
As it was, though, Crowley mostly stayed within this sector. He fucked Sam, he had meetings with the head torturers and with a tall, intimidating man that he’d called Oberon.
Sam wondered if it was the actual Oberon, but was always too skittish about him to ask.
All in all though, he was happy.
And, Sam had noticed, that was all that mattered to Crowley.