Author's Note:
*Is hiding behind computer, ducking from large flying objects*
Okay, um, I'm extremely nervous…like off the charts nervous. If it was possible to stutter via A/N, I totally would be. This fic is so many kinds of wrong…I really shouldn't have posted this. It's my first slash fic ever, and before SPN I never even considered writing male/male. At all. Not one little tiny bit.
Yet I read this amazing Jo/Crowley story called "Possesion" by thesolitaryone, and it inspired me to write something with my most beloved demon. Then I thought: What would happen if I paired my favorite demon with my favorite angel? And so came this, with two OOC characters and slashy fluff overload. I have come to love Destiel, and I will probably end up writing a slash story about them, but I also have a teeny tiny morbid streak, so the angel/demon thing appealed to me. I am also a Megstiel shipper, so there you have it.
I would ask you not to kill me for writing this, but if I was in your shoes then I would kill me too, so I won't waste my breath.
Warnings: Slash, fluff, male/male kissing, a complete lack of dialogue, and Crowley not at all acting like the lovable assbutt we know and adore.
*Continues hiding behind computer*
"If you could only see the beast you've made of me
I held it but now it seems you've set it running free
Screaming in the dark, howl when we're apart."
~Howl by Florence and the Machine
With a soft rustling noise to announce my arrival, I materialized in Crowley's parlor.
The sound of a piano came from nearby, a familiar sound I'd grown to take comfort in. I followed the sound into a small sitting room. It contained nothing but a piano, a bench, and a particularly sarcastic demon. His long, slender fingers danced across the keys with an unnatural ease. At first I'd found it curious why a demon, an Abomination, would play a musical instrument, but I'd eventually come to love watching him play.
Once he became aware of my presence in the room, he looked up from the piano and his dark brown eyes softened affectionately. For centuries, I had been fully convinced that demons could not feel love. I'd lately been proved terribly wrong. Then again, perhaps "terribly" wasn't the correct word for it. There was nothing terrible about the new side of Crowley I'd found. Contrary to the exterior he showed everyone else, he could be as gentle and loving as any human.
"You look tense," he commented.
He was right, as usual. I'd had yet another fight with the Winchesters, which was becoming more and more common by the day. Dean, Sam and I always forgave each other for the harsh words we exchanged, but that didn't make the fighting any more pleasant. I inwardly cringed at the thought of their reaction if they somehow ever discovered my affair with Crowley.
In the beginning, I had wanted nothing more than to kill the arrogant demon with his infuriatingly attractive accent (though I hadn't realized I found his accent attractive until much later) but after getting to know him, I couldn't possibly imagine killing him. He was a demon, the one thing that my kind stood against at all costs, but he was my demon. He had been my demon for months now.
"Let me guess. The Winchester idiots have their knickers in a twist?" Crowley asked, appearing in front of me.
"They are not idiots, they're merely…conflicted."
He took my arm and guided me into the living room before sitting me down on the couch. I opened my mouth to protest that I was just fine to stand, but he gave me a look to efficiently silence me. Never in my very long existence would I have ever thought I would be in a romantic, trusting relationship with a demon, yet here I was.
Strong hands began working over my shoulders, the tension draining from me almost immediately. Without meaning to, I leaned back into the touch and closed my eyes. He stood behind me, easily relaxing me. It was slightly disconcerting how he knew exactly how to get me unwound no matter how upset I was.
"Perhaps this is wrong…" I started, hearing his sigh of exasperation from behind me.
I often expressed worries about mine and his relationship. Then again, how could he blame me? I was an Angel of the Lord, he was a demon. It went against everything I had ever been taught to love him, and it went against his nature to love me. We were too completely different species that were natural enemies. It was meant for us to kill each other, not to become confidants and lovers.
In the blink of an eye, he was sitting next to me on the couch, a glass of Craig in his hand. His hand sought mine, the fingers interlacing with my own. Though I had expected the exact opposite, I'd found him to be very open with small but affectionate gestures. While he was still thoroughly sarcastic, he wasn't nearly apathetic as he made himself out to be. He was actually rather romantic when his guard was down.
"Relax, darling," he said, brushing my hair from my eyes before running that same hand down the side of my face.
The first time he'd called me that, I'd been shocked and unnerved. A demon had just called me "darling," and at the time I was still adjusting to the fact I was in love with said demon. Now I was used to being called darling. I even liked it, just as I liked, well…other things he'd introduced me to. When I'd originally evaluated becoming involved in a romantic relationship, my biggest concern was making my partner understand and accept my inexperience, but he'd been more than understanding.
Crowley had guided me when I'd first started feeling every human emotion that I so vividly feared. Love, fear, guilt, and even lust. He'd gotten me through every single one. Just as he'd gotten me through that, I had gotten him through it when he first started realizing there was a part of him that was still human.
The tiny fragment of humanity that still remained in him had come forth in response to the presence of my grace, which had been the beginning of our relationship. In coaxing the human part of him back out, I'd added another layer to the already enigmatic creature. I'd loathed him at first, regardless of his new and improved personality, but against all odds I'd come to love him.
"I did not mean to burden you, I merely came to-"
A finger was laid over my lips, cutting off my apology. That was another thing about Crowley; I could come to him in any state, rather it be relaxed or upset, and he could care less. He would pour me a glass of that overly expensive Scottish liquor he seemed to like so much, and would commonly tell me to "Sit down and take a load off, lad." I got told that frequently.
Just as expected, he held out a glass of Craig, and I took a small sip of it. I honestly didn't favor alcohol that much in spite of how much he tried to convince me of how wonderful it supposedly was. Briefly, I closed my eyes and took in the comforting scents around me, all of which I'd come to associate with each other. A seemingly expensive smelling but sparsely applied cologne, the slightly bittersweet smell of his ever present liquor, and a natural smell that was all his own. I found the combination of all three to be heady and intoxicating. I opened my eyes to find Crowley watching me patiently.
"Now," he started, taking my glass and sitting it on the table next to us, "You have your 'I'm brooding and thinking too much about boring angel business and/or the Winchester brothers' face, so why don't you just enjoy yourself for a while, hmm?"
I closed my eyes as I felt warm lips gently touch mine. My fingers threaded through his hair, the silky strands soft against my skin. Had someone told me six months ago that I would be kissing a demon, Crowley nonetheless, I would have thought them mentally impaired, but now I couldn't imagine life any other way. We had to keep it in secret, but that didn't matter to either of us one small bit.
"Still tense?" he whispered against my neck as he gently traced it with his mouth.
The only response he got was me dropping my head back in a clear display of trust and submission. Sometimes I would assume the dominant position, but tonight I was more than happy to let him do the work. While one of his hands set to work unbuttoning my dress shirt, the other ran down my spine. An involuntary shiver rose under his hand. He knew exactly how to make me come undone.
"Please…" I growled quietly.
He knew what I meant. I wanted to forget about every thing that was currently going wrong, and he knew exactly how to make that happen. With a click of his fingers, we were in his dimly lit bedroom, my trench coat laying forgotten on the couch from where he'd pulled it off at some point.
His lips returned to mine in a fierce kiss, and my nails clawed at his back through the suit jacket, seeking a grip. We pulled away from each other briefly, and his eyes were solid black with no trace of any other color, which happened when he was especially angry or lustful, the latter being the current cause. When this had happened the first time we'd engaged in intense physical contact like we were right now, I'd been appalled and mortified. It had been too vivid of a reminder that I'd been in the process of losing my virginity to a monster. A murderer.
I'd fled without a second thought, leaving him behind. I'd stayed away from him for a week, telling myself it was because he was an evil creature I should have killed, but knowing deep down it was because I thought he would hate me for fleeing at the sight of him. Yet when I'd shown up again, a week after the encounter, I'd been surprised to find that he understood.
"You were born with feathers and a halo, I kill people for funsies. You were bound to be a wee bit weirded out," he'd shrugged, and I'd been too relieved to correct him and say that angels didn't actually have halos.
Now here we were, three months afterwards, and his eyes didn't effect me in the slightest. If anything, they fascinated me. I gently traced under his eyes with my fingertips. There was no way to pick out any certain emotion in the endless black depths, but I knew he'd long since come to find my almost childlike curiosity endearing. I tended to feel similarly for his morbid sarcasm, not that either of us would admit our fondness of the traits to the other.
More clothing disappeared, and for awhile I forgot about everything. I forgot about the Winchesters, Lucifer, the Apocalypse, and even just how wrong it was that I was being made love to by a demon. The term "lovemaking" didn't sound completely right in relation to Crowley, but whenever I was upset, he was shockingly gentle with me.
There were other times when we ended up against walls, on floors, and everywhere that had a level surface along with fingernail marks on our backs in the morning, but that was what happened when you paired a lustful rebellious angel with a lustful demon. You go all night and you're sore all throughout the next day.
The trials and tribulations of demonic affairs, I suppose.