A Pair of 11.1 Episode Tags
Title: Do No Harm
Characters: Dean
Genre: Gen
Word count: 100
Summary: Dean knows darkness. And it knows him.
Tag to 11.1 so spoilers.
At first he’s afraid. For her, not of her: alone and defenseless outside the car. Then, between one breath and the next, he’s right alongside her and fear morphs into recognition, then resignation. He unsheathes the knife but there’s no heat behind his threat, no urgency in his gut. Here, amidst clouds that match the chaos swirling within him, they both know he can do no harm. Will do no harm. The Mark adorns her body now but its twin still sears his blood soaked soul. The Darkness will judge him favorably for the atrocities he committed at its urging.
Title: Orgy
Characters: Crowley/OCS, Crowley/Imaginary Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 361
Summary: As orgies go, this pales in comparison to his last one.
Tag to 11.1, so spoilers
The flame haired Donovans graced Crowley’s last orgy. Triplets he’d said, and Dean delivered Katie, Bridgette and tall, broad shouldered, hung like a moose Finn . Crowley’d thought he was the world’s most fearless explorer of all things carnal until he’d howled at the moon with Dean. An orgy with middle aged first time swingers doesn’t really compare, but it’s not like he’s going to say no. Crowley orders silence, closes his eyes and thinks of green eyes and kiss bitten lips.
He’s not often occupied a woman and the few times he has, it’s been for business not sex. All the different pleasure centers are a revelation and Crowley enthusiastically makes the most of his new toys. The King of Hell is breathless and riding a multiple orgasm high when stubble burns his face and a rough, whiskey soaked voice whispers:
“I like it when you call me squirrel.”
Except the voice is voice is high pitched and smarmy and not at all right. Crowley slits an eyelid open and glares at his meatsuit’s husband who grins uncertainly at whatever he sees in that tiny slice of red. There’s a muffled giggle from the vicinity of his left breast and he hasn’t left the tire iron so far away he can’t deal with that in a hurry. If he wanted commentary from the peanut gallery he would have summoned his lackeys.
“Honey, what….” Hubby stares at the crushed, bloody skulls of his recent partners.
“I told you to be quiet.” Crowley sprawls wantonly against the sofa, slapping the gore slicked iron against his palm.
“Uh,” panicked eyes dart everywhere not containing a dead body. “We can start over. I won’t make a peep.”
“Too late.” Crowley sighs dramatically. “The moment’s over. The mood ruined.”
“I’m sorr….”
“Apologize for nothing.” Crowley wipes blood spatter off his face and steps over the bodies on his way to find a robe and a container. He could just use a phone but being unable to just fingersnap himself back to hell has him pissed. It’s going to be blood bowl radio all the way. Fun is over. Time to get back to work.
Characters: Dean
Genre: Gen
Word count: 100
Summary: Dean knows darkness. And it knows him.
Tag to 11.1 so spoilers.
At first he’s afraid. For her, not of her: alone and defenseless outside the car. Then, between one breath and the next, he’s right alongside her and fear morphs into recognition, then resignation. He unsheathes the knife but there’s no heat behind his threat, no urgency in his gut. Here, amidst clouds that match the chaos swirling within him, they both know he can do no harm. Will do no harm. The Mark adorns her body now but its twin still sears his blood soaked soul. The Darkness will judge him favorably for the atrocities he committed at its urging.
Title: Orgy
Characters: Crowley/OCS, Crowley/Imaginary Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 361
Summary: As orgies go, this pales in comparison to his last one.
Tag to 11.1, so spoilers
The flame haired Donovans graced Crowley’s last orgy. Triplets he’d said, and Dean delivered Katie, Bridgette and tall, broad shouldered, hung like a moose Finn . Crowley’d thought he was the world’s most fearless explorer of all things carnal until he’d howled at the moon with Dean. An orgy with middle aged first time swingers doesn’t really compare, but it’s not like he’s going to say no. Crowley orders silence, closes his eyes and thinks of green eyes and kiss bitten lips.
He’s not often occupied a woman and the few times he has, it’s been for business not sex. All the different pleasure centers are a revelation and Crowley enthusiastically makes the most of his new toys. The King of Hell is breathless and riding a multiple orgasm high when stubble burns his face and a rough, whiskey soaked voice whispers:
“I like it when you call me squirrel.”
Except the voice is voice is high pitched and smarmy and not at all right. Crowley slits an eyelid open and glares at his meatsuit’s husband who grins uncertainly at whatever he sees in that tiny slice of red. There’s a muffled giggle from the vicinity of his left breast and he hasn’t left the tire iron so far away he can’t deal with that in a hurry. If he wanted commentary from the peanut gallery he would have summoned his lackeys.
“Honey, what….” Hubby stares at the crushed, bloody skulls of his recent partners.
“I told you to be quiet.” Crowley sprawls wantonly against the sofa, slapping the gore slicked iron against his palm.
“Uh,” panicked eyes dart everywhere not containing a dead body. “We can start over. I won’t make a peep.”
“Too late.” Crowley sighs dramatically. “The moment’s over. The mood ruined.”
“I’m sorr….”
“Apologize for nothing.” Crowley wipes blood spatter off his face and steps over the bodies on his way to find a robe and a container. He could just use a phone but being unable to just fingersnap himself back to hell has him pissed. It’s going to be blood bowl radio all the way. Fun is over. Time to get back to work.