In Which Insurance Agents are Demons

[safetyoffthegun]

Eliot was leaning back against the kitchen counter, laughing with an arched brow as he eyed Bobby, tipping the beer in his hand back to meet his lips, and drinking heavily from the amber-gold liquid.  They'd become fast friends after stumbling across each other in the middle of a job.  Turns out the bad guys that Nate and the rest of their crew had

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[safetyoffthegun]

Eliot murmurs as Crowley bites at his lips, leaning into it, kissing him hard. He wants this, is craving for it as he leans into the body pressed against him, unable to help biting against Crowley's lips, and lapping at that blood that spills over his tongue. It makes him shake, shiver, the way that it almost burns, crawls over his skin and through him, heat in a way that is all pleasure, hot enough his tongue almost feels numb.

His arms slide up obediently, gasping for breath in the interim as his shirt is pulled off up over his head. He glares, hot and annoyed as Crowley messes up his hair in the process. He takes a moment to run his fingers through his hair, smoothing it out so that it falls straight. Eliot has his vanities, and actually looks damn good in a suit, even if he's not prone to them in his day-to-day.

His hands going back to Crowley's body, working on stripping the man out of his own clothes. As nice as Sterling looked in his expensive suits, Eliot still preferred him out of them. Trying to draw him just a little bit closer with his knees, his fingers lifting to stumble over the knot of his tie.