AN: There is smut in this chapter.


"Well did you see him?" Colette asks as soon as soon as Crowley answers the phone. He sighs softly.

"Hello to you too darling."

"Don't keep me waiting, Fergus. I had to promise Cain bacon for dinner to get to call you!"

"Oh, the horror of having bacon for dinner!"

"Fergus!"

Crowley huffs a laugh.

"Yes, I saw him again. We had a riveting debate over Soulmarks."

"Oh, Crowley, you didn't…"

"I did. It's all thanks to the sham of a book Cain gave me. Now I have a… meeting with him again in two days."

The loud squeeing noise Colette lets out has Crowley pulling his phone away from his ear. He glares at it, though his lips twitch at her happiness for his possible happiness. Scuffling happens and he hears Cain's low tones before Cain actually speaks to him.

"What did you do to my wife?"

"I told her I saw Sam again."

"Sam?"

"That's his name."

Again he has to pull his phone away from his ear as Cain swears.

"Nice! You going-"

"Yes. Now more importantly, do you have a copy of Understanding Marks And How Societal Expectations And Media Have Twisted Their Meaning?" he cuts Cain off. Cain grumbles under his breath but Crowley can hear him moving about. It takes some time but soon Cain is talking again.

"I do indeed… Should I expect you dropping in on us tomorrow?"

"If you two don't mind me dropping in for a cuppa."

"Colette would kill me if I turned you away."

Crowley laughs at the whipped tone in Cain's voice and the two soon say their goodbyes. It's only seven o'clock and his stomach decides to speak up and remind him that it's time to eat. A world class chef he is not but he can make a mean box meal. Fattening and completely American, it's filling and easy to cook.

His want to eat withers a bit when he spots a bright blue post-it note reminding him that Gavin will be coming over on Friday. He loves his son, but the bloody boy is a menace who seems to relish in making Crowley's life miserable. Be it by getting in trouble with the law or backing talking and being a general pain in Crowley's rear. On one memorable occasion, Gavin took a date of his to the publishing house Crowley works at, broke in and fornicated on his father's desk. The point of that exercise Crowley hasn't a clue other than the fact he had to explain to his boss why he didn't think charges should be pressed. Though the sheer cheekiness of the act would have made Crowley proud of his sprog, if it hadn't been caught on camera.

With a shake, Crowley pulls himself from his thoughts on his son and goes about cooking his meal. It's soothing following the instructions on the box and he wonders when his life went tits up with his son. While he wasn't the most attentive father Gavin had liked him well enough until he turned thirteen. Then something happened and daddy went from hanging the stars to cleaning the toilet and Gavin's mother became his hero. He sighs tiredly and pulls the pot off the stove. Instead of thinking about his son he thinks about Sam, about how the man's Mark disappeared. It was most likely covered with makeup. Crowley cringes as he remembers how he stared at the Mark. It had probably made the younger man uncomfortable and Crowley is surprised that Sam gave him a second chance. Dinner is a lonely affair and he goes to bed shortly after the dishes are done.


The lighting in the room is low but it doesn't stop him from recognizing it as his own. It's the person on the bed that gives Crowley pause. It's Sam in all his tall, lanky glory and he's as naked as a newborn babe. There is chocolate sauce and strawberries on his bedside table.

"Are you just going to stand there all day or are you going to join me?" Sam asks his arm reaches out and Crowley watches in fascination as the younger man dips his finger into the chocolate. It's arousing in the best way and Crowley stumbles to the bed.

"You're here," he breathes and Sam laughs, brown eyes large and dark. Sam leans into him, nibbling at his neck.

"Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?"

Crowley doesn't answer that. He kisses Sam desperately, hungrily and Sam kisses him back. Clothes are shed, quickly and without care. Crowley lets his fingers dig into Sam's hair. Chocolate is poured and licked and bodies grind together in tempo with fastly beating hearts. There is no penetration but Crowley wouldn't change it for anything. It's more intimate than any sex he has ever had. They rest curled together and feed each other strawberries from the bowl, exchanging kisses.

"Next time I'll bring lube," Sam promises before grabbing what is left of the chocolate and he crawls down the bed and settles in between Crowley's legs. By now chocolate is cold and the older man jumps as it is poured on his stomach and prick. Sam begins licking the sauce off of him. A moan builds in his chest and explodes when a hot heat engulfs him. His back arches and he claws at the bed beneath him.


Crowley blinks awake and groans at the stickiness coating his pant legs.

"Oh bloody hell," he mutters covering his face. Hopefully, he isn't entering a second puberty.