Comments | winchester_lost: Why Hello Pretty Lady

winchester_lost

Why Hello Pretty Lady

May 12, 2012 00:58

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. ( Read more... )

crowley/dean, au, crowley, smut, crossroadskink, s5, rp, cr

Comments 56

crossroadskink May 14 2012, 04:44:42 UTC

Crowley knows. He knew before he asked, because Crowley doesn't ask a question he doesn't know the answer to in advance if he can help it. He's leading Dean right into this, his words leading him as much as the look in his eyes as he strips Dean down ( ... )

winchester_lost May 14 2012, 05:13:17 UTC

Crowley was close enough to touch, close enOugh that expensive suit fabric whispered against his skin, pulling uneven catches in his breath from those almost-vulgar lips. His eyelashes fluttered as Crowley's tie came undone, and then a humb was dragging against his bottom lip, and Dean's mouth moved encouragingly to the pressure. May e something soul-deep, some mark Alastair had left on him from the Pit that remembered exactly what his mouth was for. Knew it wasn't for those snappy retorts he failed at so often. His lips faintly catching at the tip of Crowley's thumb, like his body wanted to and Dean hadn't quite managed to catch himself in time ( ... )

crossroadskink May 14 2012, 06:57:03 UTC

"I'm looking forward to it ( ... )

winchester_lost May 14 2012, 07:30:28 UTC

Dean gasps, murmurs as their mouths press together. There's that initial flare of stalwart refusal, where he doesn't respond, but then there are noises against the seal of their lips, and Dean's kissing back. Hot and wanton, aching and needy, as it starts to burn through him, the desire to be touched, to feel it. Dreams- nightmares, he tries to remind himself- whisper at the edge of awareness, cruel reminder of how much he loved this, and his hands are clutching at Crowley's shoulders, holding on, leaning in close so that his hard cock pressed to the demon's stomach, rubbed against his fine fucking shirt ( ... )

crossroadskink May 15 2012, 21:03:46 UTC

Crowley likes it like this, refusal first. Denial. Then Dean starts coming out of his shell, starts to admit it to himself, that he wants this. Dean is better than he'd hoped he might be, noisy and eager and clinging to him. He can feel him, hard as he rubbed at his belly through the fabric of his shirt. His free hand snakes between them and curls around it, stroking him slowly. It's definitely impressive, a nice handful and it feels good in his hand but his is bigger. That's no insult to Dean, more a compliment to Crowley's endless hunt for the perfect cock without sacrificing on the rest of the body ( ... )

winchester_lost May 15 2012, 22:32:32 UTC

Dean moans, his body shaking as Crowley's fingers curl around his cock, stroking in a way that is all teasing, no satisfaction. Just enough to drag him further into this, ache for the pleasure, ache for what he still isn't quite sure he can admit to wanting. Those feverish dreams of nightmare and pleasure, of being bent and used and loving it. Crowley edging him back toward that place, of wanting it. It was terrifying and breathless and enthralling ( ... )

crossroadskink May 16 2012, 04:25:28 UTC

Crowley is good at this. If he's honest, and he isn't, it's his forte. Making people want things so much that his involvement is soon forgotten and all that's left is them and a deep desire that's always been there. Crowley is the catalyst, the spark, and in a way, it's true. He can't bring out anything that's not there. This is free will, it's freeing Dean of his denial and all of those layers he's erected around what he really wants to protect himself. How protected was he, really, if all it took was an hour of his involvement to bring it all crashing down ( ... )

winchester_lost May 16 2012, 04:56:34 UTC

In Hell, it had been a necessary part of things, when he'd first picked up Alastair's blade, when he'd first become his student. The things Dean would do with a stiffly spoken command, and an almost cruel, condescending reassurance. It played at varying parts of him, conflicted and interested and pushed him until it become easier to give in than to cling to scraps of denial. The way the tone, words hit vulnerable places he didn't like to admit existed while the reassurance soothed and pulled him down ( ... )

crossroadskink May 17 2012, 08:55:27 UTC

Crowley isn't ignorant of how Dean was in hell, what he did and how easily. He'd been there, passing through, looking in, interested in all the ways in which Dean Winchester had fallen. That made this all the better, how each step of the way he seemed as though this was all new ( ... )

winchester_lost May 17 2012, 20:19:15 UTC

There's a sharp, stuttered gasp as both his legs hitch into the sides of Crowley's waist and the demon shoves them back against the door that groans in protest. He can feel that erection, hot and hard and thick where it presses into his hip, and it makes him shiver, his green eyes widening as the demon bites at Dean's full lip. There's this hot sort of uncertainty that curls in his stomach and climbs through his spine like a cold chill. Crowley feels long and thick and there's this whisper at the back of his head that isn't quite sure it will fit. This isn't Hell, this isn't where intention, desire and humiliation count for far more than reality ( ... )