-the one in which Crowley fucks the pizza delivery boy
I'm so sorry that I'm not sorry anymore and I'm probably going to write a sequel. With Adam in it. Fuck me, right?
Crowley/Samandriel, bad porn, AU (that kinda comes with my fanfics), PWP so I didn't even try to make it make sense
also RIP Crowley's precious hellhound baby
Of Hellhounds and Pizzas
„Hello, darling. What can I do for you." very deep, very British, and also very seductive voice comes from the speaker. Samandriel rolls his eyes.
„Pizza delivery, Mr. Crowley."
„Oh. Show yourself in, I'll be there in a minute."
With a quiet sigh, Samandriel opens the gate, slowly walks to the porch and finally stands next to the door, waiting. He is used to this, people often forget about ordering anything and then act very surprised when the delivery arrives as they rush to the door wearing only underwear and with bath foam in their hair. With a quiet chuckle, Samandriel wonders in what Mr. Crowley will turn up.
Despite many strange encounters connected to his job, Samandriel has never been particularly afraid of dogs, so when he hears a barely audible growl behind him, he doesn't exactly panic, just slowly turns around. Only to find himself very close to actually panicking. The last time he saw a dog this big was the time his grandmother forced him to watch The Hound of the Baskervilles.
Samandriel takes a cautious step back. The dog doesn't move, still growling, teeth bared, eyes fixed on Samandriel's throat. It's whole body is tense, muscles flexing under the sleek black fur, most likely getting ready to attack. Samandriel clutches the box and briefly wonders if the dog would settle for the pizza and let him go. Probably not, though, since monster dogs are usually not exactly interested in devouring vegetarian pizzas while the delivery boys run away, screaming.
Another careful step away from the dog, and Samandriel realizes his mistake as his back meets the wall behind him. He is pretty sure he wouldn't stand a chance even if he weren't trapped between the house and the bloodthirsty creature, but he would still feel a little better if there actually was somewhere to run.
Just when Samandriel almost gives up, the door swings open and an authoritative voice yells „Sit, boy!" The dog immediately steps back, obediently sitting down and with a quiet sound closing its mouth. It's still watching Samandriel, but at least it doesn't look like it's going to tear out his throat any second now.
Knees weak and hands shaking, Samandriel slumps against a wall in relief and releases the breath he's been holding. The man glances at him with raised eyebrows and an amused expression on his face. He doesn't exactly look like a typical owner of such an animal, at least not at the first sight. To be honest, with his shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a tie hanging loosely around his neck (Samandriel would probably feel disappointed at the lack of embarrassing clothing, weren't he scared for his life), Crowley seems to be an average, middle aged businessman, sharp and good looking, as far from a dumb redneck as he could possibly be.
„Sorry, I forgot about him." Crowley says, and Samandriel is quite certain he is not sorry at all, because it's kind of hard to imagine how anyone could forget about a calf-sized dog. „But don't worry; he doesn't bite until I tell him to. Would you like to come inside for a while?"
Samandriel shakes his head, he has work to do, but Crowley's hand is already firmly holding his upper arm and pushing him to the door. Samandriel protests weakly, but the man seems quite determined and with a dismissive „Oh come on, you're in no state to drive." drags him inside.
Samandriel has to agree with that, although he'd rather calm down in the car. He is actually more than a little scared at that point, because the situation looks pretty much like the start of an exemplar b-class porn video, only that Crowley is probably the classy sex-torture dungeon type who simply doesn't do b-class. The dog that follows them inside doesn't really help the situation either.
Crowley leads him to the kitchen then (an insanely big kitchen for a British guy who can't probably even make a sandwich without setting the place on fire) and gestures for Samandriel to sit down. Samandriel decides not to argue and after placing the slightly dented pizza box on the counter takes a chair, nervously biting his lip when the dog proceeds to lie down under the table, its head way too close to Samandriel's feet.
„You don't have to fear him, Growley is really just an overgrown puppy."
„G-Growley?" The dog raises its head at the mention of its name, turning first to Crowley and then to Samandriel. It yawns, exposing its razor sharp teeth that could probably bite off an arm of a grown man, and then gets up and nudges Samandriel's leg with its nose.
„I am not too creative when it comes to names. I used to have a snake called Crawly."Crowley admits. He places a steaming mug of tea in front of Samandriel, and then crouches down and scratches the dog behind its ears. The dog leans happily into the touch, but soon turns its attention to the newcomer and lays its huge had on Samandriel's thigh. „He likes you."
„I don't think it's about creativity."Samandriel mutters and hesitantly runs his fingers through the soft fur on the dog's back. Growley makes a content sound and he actually does resemble a giant puppy at the moment, although Samandriel is pretty sure the dog wouldn't be quite as friendly if Crowley wasn't in the room, regarding Samandriel with a strangely kind expression on his face. Oh.
Fortunately, the dog seems to have the attention span of a goldfish and quickly loses interest, soon padding out of the kitchen. Samandriel sighs quietly in relief and reaches for the tea. Crowley is still watching him.
„You haven't told me your name yet."
„You've been staring at me for so long you could have noticed my nametag." Samandriel tries to sound as convincing as possible, but from the very first second it's apparent Crowley is not falling for it.
„If your name really is Alfie, I am going to be very disappointed." Crowley smirks and leans against the counter. There is something about him-and Samandriel can't quite name it-that makes the man a little distracting in some very inappropriate ways.
„My name is Samandriel. Happy now?"
„Samandriel...interesting." Thankfully, he doesn't comment on how Samandriel's parents must have been religious freaks to name their child like that. „I like it." He decides then, and Samandriel tries to concentrate on sipping his tea instead of thinking about how strangely good his name sounds when Crowley says it.
„What should I call you, anyways?"Samandriel wonders why he even bothers with asking. He's probably going to never see the man again; there is really no point in knowing. Yet, there is still the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that maybe...
„Crowley's fine." The man smirks, and there is something in the way he looks at him that makes Samandriel very uncomfortable and also strangely aroused. Which also makes him very uncomfortable. He blames it on the adrenaline from the dog incident, hoping that it is what clouds his judgment, making him think that being in a complete stranger's kitchen and getting himself a boner over a guy that could be his dad is not all that bad.
„I think I should probably go."Samandriel mutters, hastily standing up with his eyes fixed on the floor. The situation is probably the most awkward he's ever found himself in, and that says a lot since his life is basically made of awkward. He places the empty mug next to the pizza and nervously looks up at Crowley and, well...
Crowley isn't exactly towering over him since he's not all that much taller, but somehow it makes Samandriel step back. Too bad for him that he finds himself trapped for the second time that day, only now between Crowley and a heavy wooden table pressing into the back of his thighs. Crowley, well aware of his own advantage, moves closer, invading Samandriel's personal space.
„I'm not exactly sure what you're trying to do here." Samandriel knows how lame that must have sounded-and Crowley knows he knows so he doesn't even bother with commenting on it. Instead, he places one hand on top of Samandriel's thigh, the other on the table and leans in, mouth almost touching Samandriel's ear.
„I am going to fuck you so hard on this table you won't be able to walk for days." It's barely a whisper and Samandriel shudders as Crowley's lips press against the side of his neck.
„The only thing you're going to do is to get me fired."Samandriel's voice breaks when the hand on his thigh slides higher, palming Samandriel through his trousers before settling firmly on his hip, insistently pushing Samandriel back, making him finally sit on the table and spread his legs.
„Now that's better." Crowley purrs and nuzzles Samandriel's throat, before raising his head and pressing a harsh kiss on Samandriel's lips. The hand moves from Samandriel's hip and slips under his t-shirt, sending a shiver down his spine.
Samandriel's hands fist in Crowley's shirt, not sure whether to pull him closer or push him away. Crowley decides it for him, the hand that's not currently ghosting over Samandriel's ribs finds the back of his head and keeps him firmly in place, and Samandriel is a little surprised to realize he actually likes Crowley's slight dominance over him. He lets go of Crowley's shirt and moves his hands hesitantly to the man's crotch, carefully tracing the outline of his erection through the fabric. Crowley breaks the kiss with a sigh of pleasure and then lifts Samandriel's t-shirt. Samandriel raises his arms, letting Crowley slip it off and throw it on the floor, and then lets them slide back down to unbuckle the man's belt.
When Samandriel's fingers undo the button and zipper of Crowley's slacks and move past the waistband of his underwear, the man's control slips for a second and he drags Samandriel down from the table, cupping his butt with his palms and squeezing roughly.
„Bend over the table."Crowley groans into his ear, and Samandriel knows he probably shouldn't be this excited as he turns around and complies. The wood is mercifuly cold against his heated skin, and he closes his eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief. His fingers find the edge of the table and grip it loosely, just when Crowley yanks down both his pants and his underwear, freeing his strained erection. Samandriel wants to touch himself, but he is quite certain Crowley wouldn't let him, so he only tightens his grip on the table and waits, craning his neck to see what exactly is the man doing.
Honestly, he thinks a second later, Crowley must have planned this, because he doubts middle aged businessmen just carry around a small bottles of lube in their pockets. Crowley sees the flash of realization in Samandriel's eyes and smirks. Samandriel wants to say something, but it's apparent Crowley has other ideas when his slicked finger circles Samandriel's entrance, silencing him for a second.
It burns at first when the finger pushes past the tight ring of muscles, Samadriel has to admit he is a little out of practice, but the painful sensation quickly melts into something more pleasurable. Crowley gives him time to adjust, but as soon as he feels Samandriel relax a little, he adds another finger, crooking the digits sligtly so that they would teasingly brush against Samandriel's prostate, making the other clutch at the edge of the table. It's not nearly enough though, the angle is awkward, the stimulation too weak to do anything more than arouse him even further and moan loudly when another finger slides in.
„Your neck is going to kill you tomorrow if you keep that up." Crowley sounds a little too unfazed considering the fact he's got three fingers buried in Samandriel's ass and his other hand is already pulling down his own slacks and underwear. But he does have a point and Samandriel turns away, laying his head on his outstretched arms.
He licks his lips in anticipation when he hears the tearing of the wrapper and seconds later feels the head of Crowley's cock pushing insistently at his entrance. Samandriel tries to wriggle his hips to make him move, but Crowley plants his palms firmly on Samandriel's hips and slides in excruciatingly slowly, apparently taking delight in the way Samandriel moans and writhes, desperately trying to make him go faster. But Crowley is stronger and manages to hold Samandriel in place for a few more minutes, his fingers probably leaving bruises, before he decides to speed up.
Samandriel's knuckles whiten as he desperately clutches the edge of the table with his fingers, and he has to press his mouth against his arm to keep himself from making embarrassing noises. It feels good, too good, just on the right side of pain, rough in the best way imaginable and Samandriel briefly wonders if he could come just from this alone, before the other man speaks again.
„Touch yourself." Crowley sounds a little breathless as he utters the words, but thankfully doesn't stop moving. Samandriel gladly lets go of the edge of the table and quickly takes his dripping cock in hand, stroking himself in time with Crowley's thrusts.
He doesn't last long that way and soon falls over the edge with a muffled shout, spilling hot seed over his fingers, staining the floor. Crowley follows after a few deep thrusts, groaning as he finally comes as well. His hands loosen their grip on Samandriel's hips but don't let go completely, his thumbs actually start to rub soothing circles on the bruised skin and if Samandriel hasn't just come, he would probably want more.
Crowley lets go of him eventually, sliding out and leaving Samandriel strangely empty and pleasantly sore. He hands him a paper towel, and Samandriel cleans himself up without saying a word, quietly wondering what is to happen next. Just as the silence becomes slightly awkward, he forces himself to speak.
„I take it you've planned this, right?" His voice sounds a little too weak and shaky for his liking, but he can't exactly make Crowley unhear it.
„And if I have, would you mind?" The man smirks. His forehead is a little sweaty, but once he pulls up his pants it's probably the only thing giving away he has just fucked a pizza delivery boy over a kitchen table.
„I supposed I'm getting fired either way so not really." Samandriel mutters, quickly putting the t-shirt on. Not sure what to do next, he crosses the kitchen and heads for the door. Crowley looks at him, almost surprised and then follows him.
„Well..." Samandriel stops, hand already on the door knob and slowly turns around. Crowley shrugs, reaching to his back pocket. He takes out his wallet and to Samandriel's surprise actually smiles. „Here's my business card. If they do fire you, I can help. If they don't...call anyways." He pushes the card and a large bill into the front pocket of Samandriel's shirt and leans in for a kiss. „Keep the change." he says when he pulls away. Samandriel manages only a stiff nod and without even as much as a good bye walks out of the house.