Why Hello Pretty Lady

[winchester_lost]

It was another shitty bar, in another shitty town. They were hunting down a particularly nasty Japanese spirit, of all fucking things, and after seeing a string of corpses that had been asphyxiated or with slit throats, and peeled skin, Dean thought he'd earned his intoxication and whatever pretty woman he happened to stumble home with.

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[crossroadskink]

It had been a while since Crowley had inhabited a body that was currently occupied, and he honestly didn't much appreciate sharing. It was more tolerable now that he'd shut her up, but he knew she was still back there.

A good question might be, why had Crowley abandoned his current, perfectly suitable body for this one - a woman, no less? Crowley had taken male bodies exclusively for hundreds of years. Some demons went back and forth, didn't care so much, but Crowley was male. He felt male, he liked the angles he could work as a man, and moreover, he liked men. Being in a woman felt wrong, if he was going to spend any time there, but he wasn't planning on more than a couple of hours. And besides, it was worth it to see Dean's face when he caught him

[winchester_lost]

Unfortunately for the lovely blonde, her charming smile was initially wasted on Dean -- his eyes didn't exactly make it out of her cleavage. His grin widened, and if God wasnt a total fucking dick, he might have said some sort of prayer of thanks or something. As it was, well, he just grinned, impish and playful and interested as his green eyes finally took in her blond hair and her pretty face

[crossroadskink]

So this was how it felt to be ogled in this manner. It wasn't entirely bad. He'd picked this girl because her cleavage was magnificent, because if Crowley was going to be a woman he was going to have assets matching his usual standards. Prominently large and perfectly formed. There was a little twinge of pleasure at how Dean noticed, something almost like pride, and Crowley had to mentally shake it away. He wasn't really a woman. He just liked attention

[winchester_lost]

With Crowley, Dean would have openly mocked his picky taste in alcohol, his five-hundred dollar bottles of scotch aged multiple decades from distilleries located in areas of Scotland Dean didn't know existed. But, on a pretty blonde like this, it was alluring, much like those skinny jeans instead of short skirts. He wasn't too picky, beyond some basic standards of attractiveness, but for girls he pursued, talked into bed, they tended to have just a touch of tomboy. Dean would have defended that he just didn't have much in common with more feminine girls beyond an interest in sex, but, like most things with Dean, there was more to it than that

[crossroadskink]

Crowley had his eyes on Dean. The body he wore made it look like interest and allure and nothing more, but the reality was that there were layers beneath that. He was watching for a tell, waiting for him to slip in such a way that he showed his hand and then Crowley would call the bluff he'd been holding for so many years. The pot was huge here, and it was a waiting game. Crowley was slated to win, and bringing Dean to his knees was going to be pure pleasure.

Crowley smiled, and it came off as bright and seductive and just a touch coy. Crowley knew Dean wasn't talking about the liquor, though that was true as well. No, Dean was paying a compliment to a woman who was making it clear that she knew what she liked. There was a difference

[winchester_lost]

She took Dean's comment and ratcheted it up, but before he had a chance to respond with anything more than a curve of his pretty lips, she was turning a question on him. His eyes glinted, bright green even by the dim cast of bar lighting. He looked her over, as that assent lingered on his breath, watching her face instead of her chest for the moment because there was something in the way she asked that, something that was a bit pushy than he expected from most women. It was interesting.

"Yeah, of course. Though, I'll try almost anything once."

Have a cheerful, kink-friendly smile. He wasn't sure exactly what she was angling for, but he was certain it was sexual, and almost certain that he'd enjoy it. She was pretty, busty, and he really wanted to touch the curve of her breasts, feel the skin against his fingers. Dean had a rather legitimate fascination with them, that actually went just a little beyond the sexual

[crossroadskink]

"I'll bet you will," he says, and there's more to the statement than Dean can possibly guess right now. There's suggestion but there's also knowledge.

He took another drink of scotch, nearly draining the glass, and setting it back down, he looked past Dean to the man they'd both noticed, rugged and handsome across the bar, and nodded towards him as he leaned in conspiratorially, voice lowered so that what he had to say next was just for the two of them.

"I saw you looking at him. Is that something you've tried or something you're willing to try?" the question seemed casual, except that it wasn't even remotely. This was supposedly a young woman who wanted into Dean's bed asking if he wanted to have sex with men, fishing for answers that would incriminate.

[winchester_lost]

He doesn't think anything of the way that she says it, just like he doesn't think about the scotch she's drinking. There's an unwillingness to put the signs together, to think anything of the fact that a woman that was just his type strolled in and wandered over to him, just when he needed it. He kills his whiskey, nudges it toward the tender for another.

He followed her gaze, and his eyes linger on broad shoulders and strong hands, lean torso and biceps he almost wants to curl his fingers around. But none of that is admitted, and he chuckles softly, a shrug of his own shoulders.

"Gotta check out the competition, you know."

But, it feels like it falls flatter than anything, like she doesn't buy it, and his teeth briefly worry his bottom lip.

"Never tried it."

Which... isn't exactly true. Not here, not topside, but he had in Hell. Once he'd fallen, given in, surrendered everything he had to give, when there was nothing left between Dean and his desires. But, Dean ignores that, brushes it off as nightmares, tries to stuff it

[crossroadskink]

Dean isn't fooling anyone. Checking out the competition - as if that man had been competition at all. Crowley had come right in and wasted no time coming to Dean. There was never any indication that Crowley was going anywhere but to the stool beside Dean.

Right now, Crowley is sure that Dean hasn't caught on yet. He's still a hot blond to him, one with adventurous bedroom interests, one who's suggesting a threeway before even leaving the bar. He's going to keep that up just a little longer, long enough to get him to incriminate himself.

"Really?" he asked, fingering the lip of the glass as his attention returned to Dean, impressed and interested and not a little turned on. He knew what the 'right kind of encouragement' was. It was a pretty girl interested in watching, an accepting buffer that made it okay... okay enough to incriminate himself. Then he was going to play his hand.

[winchester_lost]

"Yeah. I mean, if that's what you're into. Not against trying out something new for a beautiful woman like you."

His voice had warmed a little, still hushed and conspiratorial, words that whispered between them over glasses of scotch and whiskey. She was kinky and interesting, and there was something nervous about Dean as he slowly eased into contemplation of the idea. But, there was also that thread of heat glinting in his greens, interest and tentative arousal so long hidden and ignored, finally edging out because she made it safe. It wasn't about liking men, it was about the hot blonde that was into it. Just like the pink panties in his bag -- everything could be excused if there was sex with a hot blonde involved.

"What would you want to see, Serenity?"

Dean did like hearing it, being told. Dirty talk was hot, as far as he was concerned, whether it was graphic descriptions of what she wanted, or the playful way Rhonda (and a few other girls since) had called him a slut. He liked that gloss of the vulgar.