"Hello, darling. You seemed tense when I last saw you. If only you would've let me help you relax. I've been told I have magical hands. Anyways, could you please tell Squirrel to call me? I have something very important to share with him."
Crowley and his damned messages…they had started innocent enough. Well, innocent for Crowley, at least—he needed Dean to call him. At the time, you were riding in the back seat of the Impala on your way back to the bunker after a hunt. The hunt consisted of a particularly tiring chase of a couple of shapeshifters who thought it would be funny to mess with an "Identical Twins Day" convention that was already chock-full of people that looked, well, identical. Luckily, casualties were kept to a minimum as the shapeshifters seemed to be causing trouble just for the fun of it. However, in the midst of the chaos, Sam and Dean's phones and extra phones were snatched by the troublemakers and not recovered. You called Charlie to see if she could track them down, but she couldn't, so you all assumed they were most likely destroyed.
After listening to the King of Hell's voice message, you passed your phone to Dean. "Crowley wants you to call him. He says it's important."
"It better be important. Last time he called he asked me how little Dean was doing…" he grumbled, dialing the number. You laid down in hopes of passing out like Sammy who was drooling in the front next to Dean. You dozed off, not paying attention to their conversation.
A few weeks after that first voicemail, he started sending you texts.
Hello, darling. How's my favorite hunter?
Hey. I've been better. Since when did I become your favorite hunter?
Since I first saw you. Is something wrong, dear?
Yep. Got a large gash in my arm. The boys
are forcing me to recuperate.
Does that mean you're laid up in bed
whilst texting a handsome demon?
It does.
Mmmm….what are you wearing?
A fluffy black robe. Why do you care? What are
you wearing?
I'm wearing a suit. I'd like to be wearing less,
but I'm stuck in this insufferable meeting.
Why are you texting me? Go manage Hell or
torture some souls, Crowley.
Is that a command, darling? I do
love it when you boss me around.
You're off your rocker. I'm going to bed now.
Goodnight.
Dream of me. xoxo
Of course, you just had to dream about the infuriating bastard that night. Not that dreaming about Crowley was anything new to you. The demon was charming and elegant and strikingly attractive.
The next evening, you had just finished your fourth glass of wine and you were pouring another as your phone's messaging tone sounded.
Thinking of you, pet.
You seem to be doing that quite a bit lately.
It's hard not to. What are you doing
this evening?
Drinking. Alone. Boys are on a case and I'm
stuck here. You?
I was engaging in a bit of torture. But it just wasn't
doing it for me.
So, you were torturing someone and
thought of me? How sweet…
Yes, well. I've had a long day, and I need a drink
as well. Would mind if I joined you?
I'm not sure how the boys would feel about that.
I visit them all the time, dear. I just
want some intelligent company.
Fine. Just don't, ya know, kill me.
I couldn't kill you. Even if I did, it wouldn't
be worth it. Moose and Squirrel would kill me,
you know?
Oh, I know. Bring booze.
Of course.
And, of course, you had forgotten about the warding that didn't allow him to just pop in. So, you made your way to the front door when you heard the incessant knocking sound. When you opened it, there he was, as dashing as ever in his damned suit. The handsome bastard was holding a bottle of his beloved Craig in one hand and a sweet-red wine in the other.
"I brought my favorite and your favorite. Where shall we imbibe?" he held up the bottles, questioningly.
"Imbibe, "you laughed, "…always so formal, Crowley. I'm drinking in my warm, cozy bed and listening to music. That's where I'm imbibing. Follow me for the party, fellow imbiber."
Crowley seemed slightly amused. "Are you going to make fun of vocabulary all night, darling?"
"Maybe. But, you'll probably like it, right? Don't you like me because I'm entertaining?"
"That's one of several reasons I enjoy your company, I suppose."
You could feel his warmth close behind as you walked down the hallway to your room.
"I'll just have to see if I can get you to disclose some of those other reasons," you thought as you opened your door. You gestured for him to go in first and got a breath full of pure, clean masculine scent that contained a slight tang of whiskey. You grabbed a few tumblers that you kept by your mini-fridge and handed him one. He grabbed the other one from your hand with a smirk and poured you both a drink while you turned on some music.
You propped yourself on your pillows at the head of the bed and got comfy. He tilted his head in question as he handed you your drink and you patted beside yourself, inviting him to get comfortable.
"Already allowing me into your bed, love?" he said, taking off his shoes.
"I'm not going to sit properly in a chair right now. I want to relax and drink. I figure you need to relax, as well. You should take off your suit jacket, tie, and belt while you're at it," you replied.
To your surprise, he sat his whiskey on your bedside table and began to loosen his tie.
You watched his hands as they worked the tie off, and his throat as it was exposed. You sipped your wine and kept eyeing him as he took off his jacket. When he touched his belt, you felt a pleasant twinge of excitement. He didn't move to take it off, so you looked up at his face. He was smirking at you. There was a devilish twinkle in his now darkened eyes. They looked like they were on the verge of turning into their demonic red, like they were stuck in the transition between normal and evil. And all that did was turn you on more. You drank down the rest of your wine in a few too-large gulps and quickly stood up to break eye-contact with Crowley and pour yourself another drink. You brought the drinks to your bedside table to avoid repeatedly getting up for refills.
"So, darling, do you know of any good drinking games?" Crowley was propped casually in a nest of pillows, his feet crossed at the ankles.
"Umm, I don't play many, but one that the boys and I play sometimes is 'One Truth, One Lie'. Basically, you tell a truth and a lie, shocking right? The name pretty much spells it all out. If the other person guesses the lie, then the person who said it has to drink, and if they incorrectly guess, then they have to drink." You sat back down next to him, careful to not get too close. He smelled delicious, but you didn't want to make any rash decisions and start cuddling him or anything.
"Okay. I'm game. I have a picture of a dog in my jacket pocket. I have a picture of a moose in my trouser pocket." he stated matter-of-factly.
"Well, I'm going to say that the dog picture is the lie. I can totally see you carrying a picture of a moose just to taunt Sam," you laughed.
"And you are correct in your assumption." He drained the little bit of Craig left in his glass and refilled it.
"My turn, then. I've never flown in an airplane. I've never gone scuba diving."
"Well, let's see. I have no idea, but I'm assuming more people have been in an airplane, so I'm going to say that one is the lie."
"Wrong. The boys and I went scuba diving last year, but I have flying anxiety. Not that I should have told you that…"
"I'm not going to use it against you, darling. We're just getting to know each other, right? I don't want to harm you."
"Sure, sure. Now drink up."
"Ok. I have slept with both men and women. I participated in an angel gangbang once."
"Well, I doubt many angel gangbangs occur, but I could totally see you in bed with a man or a woman."
"You're right, actually…the gangbang was all in my head. So, you've imagined me in bed with different genders before, hmm?"
Of course you had, but he didn't need to know that. You just blushed and he smiled at you, draining his glass yet again.
"My turn…and, since you've gone and dirtied our questions, I guess I'll follow your lead. I've never had sex with a non-human. I've never had two men in me at the same time."
He shifted closer to you in the bed, causing your heartbeat to quicken. "So, my little innocent hunter isn't so innocent, is she? Let me guess. You've had multiple partners simultaneously, but you've never fucked a monster."
Instead of answering him verbally, you downed your full glass of wine. It went straight to your already buzzed head, and it felt like your face was flushed crimson with warmth.
"Darling. I could remedy that for you, if you'd like." His eyes darkened and flashed red.
You stared at them, wanting to gaze into them while he pleased you. You wanted him to watch you with those otherworldly eyes while you pleased him. But, this was the first time you had been alone with him. You didn't want to throw yourself at him just yet. You always enjoyed the chase, the anticipation of things to come. So, as much as your body reacted to this man—scratch that, demon—you weren't going to give in just yet.
You stood up, moving towards the door. "I'm going to head to the bathroom while you think…so, make the next round a good one, okay?"
"Sure thing, darling. Though, I think we'll stay on the path that we're treading on now. It certainly has made the game more interesting." He winked. You tried not to react to it.
You slipped out and hurried down the hallway as quickly as your tipsy brain would allow. You just needed to put some space between the two of you for a few minutes. I mean, fuck. You already wanted him, and now, here he was, playing a drinking game with you, getting you all worked up. Your highly aroused state seemed to make you feel even more inebriated, like the natural high of arousal was layered with the altered state of being slightly drunk. Every sense seemed heightened, which did not help your plan to not fuck his brains out immediately. Why did you ever agree to drink with him? Oh yeah, to hang out and relax. Like constantly fighting against yourself is relaxing. Your damned traitorous body wanted him, and it wanted him now.
Once in the bathroom, you soaked a washcloth in cold water and placed it on the back of your neck in an attempt to cool your body down.
"Get a grip on yourself, woman."
"I'd like to get a grip on him."
"I know that. But, we can't just jump him."
"Why not?"
"Because…"
"You don't even know why."
"I'm not a slut who's going to fuck someone just because I'm attracted to them."
"You'd totally be Crowley's #1 slut. Slutbags."
"Damn, my inner voice is being a bitch today," you told your reflection.
A few cleansing breaths and splashes of cold water on your heated cheeks had you feeling more in control. You made your way back to your room with a tiny bit more composure and confidence. That is, until you opened the door.
"I've seen Sam's cock and I've seen Dean's cock."
"Well, hello to you, too."
"The game, darling. Which one do you think I've really seen?" He cocked an eyebrow up, the bastard.
"Hmm…I guess it can go either way. Neither one of them has said anything to me about it. Sam?"
"A few months ago, I popped into Dean's hotel room while he was touching himself. He didn't even know I was there, at first. So, I watched him until he came all over his stomach, and then I thanked him for the show and popped back out. The look on his face was priceless."
"So, why did you watch him finish first?" Damn. That question came out a little more breathy than you would've liked. But, you had to admit. Imagining Crowley watch Dean stroke himself was hot.
"Are you kidding, sweetheart? It's Dean-Fucking-Winchester. The man is gorgeous. Don't tell him that I admitted to that."
"I'm not telling either of them about any of this, to be honest. I don't know what their reaction would be."
"So we're to be secret friends, huh?"
"For a little while, maybe. I kind of like it, though. I mean, who around us would suspect it? The sweet, innocent little human hanging out with the King of Hell? I mean, variety's the spice of life, right?"
"I suppose it is."
"So, did Dean have a nice cock?"
"He certainly did, darling. Otherwise I wouldn't have stuck around to watch. So, does that mean you've been working with them all this time and you've never seen them naked? I would've thought you three were going at it all the time. In fact, I have thought about it."
"I guess they aren't attracted to me. I don't exactly get much action apart from the thrill of hunting. We don't really have a lot of down time for pursuing relationships, either."
"Oh, sweet little hunter. I've seen the way they look at you. Trust me, both of them would love nothing more than to feel you writhing beneath them…to taste your arousal, to shove their cocks down your—"
"Okay, Crowley, I get it! You—talking like that—is not helping my predicament right now."
"Oh? And what predicament is that?" He waggled his eyebrows. The cheeky son of a bitch.
"Oh, no. We are not opening that can of worms tonight."
"I thought we were friends now, darling. You can tell me. I'm not shouting anything from the rooftops, you know."
"I'll tell you another time, I promise. Now, do you want to play the game anymore or just drink?"
"How about we finish our current glassful and you dance with me?"
"I don't really dance, Crowley."
"I just want to move with you, darling. It's relaxing to me. Just two friends swaying to the bloody music, okay?!"
"Fine. SassyMcHellPants." You rolled your eyes and finished your glass as you stood up and sauntered over to the middle of your room.
He stood up and stalked towards you as the next song began to play.
"Why. Why this song? Did he use some demon mojo to select this track?"
The slow, velvety tune permeated the room. His eyes were fixed on yours, and you couldn't find it in yourself to look away. Crowley brought one hand gently to your waist, softly griping it, as his other hand fit into yours. The bass kicked in, a smooth and gentle bouncing of notes, and he started to sway.
"See, pet. There's nothing to it." His voice had dropped, his tone lower. You could feel the muffled rumbling in his chest as he spoke, and you wanted to rest your head against it. But, you couldn't be the one to break eye contact first. You were transfixed by his expression. He looked like he had finally figured out a difficult equation, like he had been searching for an answer for ages, and it suddenly dawned upon him. He almost smiled, but not with his mouth. It was all in his eyes. You watched as he shut them, perhaps to savor the moment. That's when you pulled him closer and buried your face into his warm chest.
He hummed to the music, like he knew you wanted to feel the muted vibrations of sound coming from him.
"You know, I don't get enough of this. A little down-time with a beautiful woman…" He moved his face closer to your hair and inhaled. "You smell delicious, sweetheart."
You were torn. You wanted to savor the sweet caress and sway that you were currently engaging in, but you also wanted to push him down onto your bed, strip off his clothing and taste him.
Apparently, the song and your brain were in tune, as the lyric "you'll go to hell for what your dirty mind is thinking" was sung.
And, you would. You'd go to hell. Crowley would be there, and in this moment, that fact made hell seem downright heavenly.
The music drifted off, coming to a close, and you felt a faint vibration coming from Crowley's pocket. His face was still close to yours, partially buried in your hair, and he let out a growl that made your body throb pleasantly.
He retrieved his cell phone and checked to see who was interrupting.
"I'm terribly sorry, darling, but unfortunately I've got business to attend to."
You pouted.
"I should very much like to meet with you again soon." He rubbed his hands down your arms, warming you, careful not to disturb the bandage on your arm.
The thought of being alone made your insides cold.
"Yeah. I want to hang out again, too. Anytime. You've got my number, so…"
"Wow, way to go. Sound desperate why don't ya?"
"I do." He gathered your hands in his and brought them to his lips, kissing them softly.
With a snap of his fingers, his belt and suit jacket were on. His silver-grey tie hung from his hand.
"A little something to remember me by, darling." He slipped his tie on your neck and tightened the knot until it rested against the base of your throat. His thumb brushed across the pulse in your neck, and you caught a glimpse of his signature wink just before he disappeared.
It took you a few minutes of savoring the memories of the evening before you realized that he must've tinkered with the warding while he was there. That damned, infuriating bastard.
You ran your hands through your hair, stopping when you noticed that the bandage on your arm was gone—as was the wound that it covered.
"He can heal?!"