Title: A Night Out
Rating: R
Author: Steph P.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Crowley or Loki. Crowley is property of Neil Gaiman (GNeil) and Terry Pratchett (PTerry). Loki is property of himself and if any of you try to claim him he'll be rather upset. Unless you're trying to claim him in a rather naughty way, then he might not mind.
A Small Note: Any of you who read the comic series by Neil called The Sandman know that Loki is in there. I am sort of setting this encounter between "Season of Mists" and "The Kindly Ones" and before Good Omens.
A Night Out
It was a dark night, most nights are. It wasn't dark and stormy, just dark, like every other night. So, if every night is dark, isn't it sort of redundant to say 'It was a dark and stormy night.'?
So, it was a dark night, just like every other night. And during this dark night a dark figure sat at a dark bus stop waiting for the bus to arrive. He was waiting for a Greyhound. He wondered to himself why they'd call a bus a greyhound. It seemed like a stupid name to him.
The dark figure, who actually wasn't entirely dark for he had rather pale skin, was waiting for the Greyhound that would take him from rural Virginia to the rather urban city of Boston which was a few states north of where he was currently waiting.
The dark figure, who was apparently a man, was beginning to drift off into the Dreaming (a place he did not particularly like, he felt as if the equally dark figure who ruled the place was rather stiff and not very fun) when the Greyhound pulled up. He cursed his boss for taking pity upon him as he boarded the bus.
The dark figure took his seat. Anybody with eyes keen enough would be able to tell that he did not actually give a ticket. He didn't need one. And nobody noticed. Nobody's eyes were that keen (or at least, nobody's minds were).
Now let's skip the boring stuff. Because we all know nothing interesting ever happens on the Greyhound.
The dark figure arrives in Boston and breathes in the polluted air of the city. He grins, a wide and somewhat toothy grin.
"Ah, Boston," he said to himself. "It's all so corrupt, a wonderful change from being in the fucking Bible belt."
The man lit a cigarette and walked out into the city.
A tall, lithe man sat alone at the bar in The Living Room knocking back everything from shots of Tequila to large glasses of cocktails. There was a litany of glasses in front of him.
The cocktail waitress came by with a banana daiquiri. He gave her a mischievous yet somewhat evil smirk and asked the waitress if she'd be interested in heading back to his hotel room with him later. The waitress giggled and nodded before hurrying off to serve some of the other patrons. He leaned back a bit and watched her go.
"This place has got to have some of the best looking waitresses available in this blasted city," he said to nobody in particular. He went to take a swig of his drink and remembered only as the cold rush hit his head that he was drinking a frozen one.
"Ouch! Fuck," he cursed as he rubbed his temples. "Shit, that really fucking hurt." He ran a hand through his red hair. He loved the spiky cut of it. It reminded him of the flames of a fire.
The tall man at the bar was suddenly very aware of some supernatural presence near by. He always hated that ability. He hated being able to tell when there was something supernatural nearby. The feeling paranoid him just a little.
The supernatural signal was suddenly closer. Really close. 'Really fucking too close,' he thought to himself.
"Hello Crowley," the red head said, almost as though the words were acid on his tongue. "What the fuck is a low life demon like you doing here?" He could feel the demon smirking behind him.
"Do you mean here in this bar, or Boston in general?" the demon asked with a grin. He sat down on the stool next to the red headed man and thumbed his sunglasses up his nose.
"Neither," the taller man grunted. "I mean what the fuck are you doing up here, on earth, outside of that shit hole you came from? I mean above ground." The red head turned and glared at the raven haired demon beside him.
"I could ask you the same thing, Loki," Crowley replied with a grin. "It won't be long before they realize you've escaped." Crowley took a sip of the White Russian he was now holding (which seems to have materialized out of no where).
"Whether they realize I'm gone or not, they're still going to have to catch me," Loki said smugly. "It's not as easy as you might think."
"I found you," Crowley added with a grin. Crowley tipped his glasses down so Loki could see his yellow, slit eyes.
"You weren't trying," Loki insisted. "You happened upon me. If I thought I'd have anything to fear from you, you'd never find me." Loki drank the last few drops of his daiquiri.
"You don't fear me?" Crowley asked, curious and vaguely amused. It was always the ones who should fear him who didn't.
"Not at all," Loki sneered. "You Judaeo-Christian types are much too weak to be able to do anything to me." Loki grinned as he got up from the stool and walked out of the bar.
Loki was only a few blocks away from The Living Room when he noticed he was being followed. He panicked a moment before he recognized the signature. He ducked into a particularly dark alley and waited. Just as his pursuer was coming upon the alleyway, Loki jumped out and punched the demon, landing a hit on his opponent's smooth, perfect cheekbone. Loki lifted Crowley up by the collar of his shirt and slammed him up against an alley wall.
"Why the fuck are you following me?" he growled at the demon, who was writhing, trying to free himself from the Norse god's grip. It was obvious Loki wasn't about to let go. Loki laughed at Crowley's efforts.
"I knew demons were weak," he hissed in Crowley's ear. "However, this is pathetic. The famed serpent of Eden can't even wriggle his way out of a heathen god's grip." Loki grinned almost wolfishly as he looked into Crowley's yellow eyes. Crowley winced as Loki's hand wrapped around his neck "Quite a poor snake you turned out to be."
"Let me go," Crowley pleaded. He was pathetic. Demons don't plead. They shouldn't have to plead. But Crowley was sure he was about to be discorporated. Just as Crowley had prepared himself for yet another death he felt the pressing feeling of something wet and rough against his mouth and that his feet were once again on the ground. He felt something warm and wet pry his lips open and slide in. He realized his eyes had been closed and opened them to see the fiery red head was once again holding him by the collar of his shirt and kissing him. Loki was kissing him the way Lucifer used to, back when Crowley was his star demon.
Loki moved his hands behind Crowley, one hand behind the demon's head, the other just above Crowley's ass, and pulled him in closer. He rocked his hips against the demon and slid the fingers of one hand in to Crowley's hair. Loki roughly probed the fork of Crowley's tongue with his own in attempt to get the demon to respond.
Finally, fed up with the lack of response, Loki pushed Crowley away and stepped back. He turned away from the demon and snarled.
"There's no use to this if you're going to just stand there and take it like a fucking victim," Loki growled. "I don't have time for bull shit like this." Loki turned and began to walk away when a hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around.
Suddenly smooth lips were pressed against Loki's rough, scarred lips, a forked tongue flicking across them occasionally. Loki opened his mouth to allow Crowley's tongue inside. Unfortunately for Crowley, a snake's tongue is how he smells things. Crowley pulled away and spat a little.
"Your breath is absolutely horrid," Crowley complained. "You really could use a breath mint." Crowley pulled out a small phial and sprayed its contents inside Loki's mouth (more than was needed I'm certain) and Loki began to hack and cough.
"What the fuck are you trying to do? Choke me? Fucking idiot demon!" Loki screeched. Loki would have yelled at Crowley some more if it weren't for the demon's mouth suddenly reconnecting with his own.
"Shut up," Crowley commanded as he once again (as he would later describe) began to ravish the taller man's mouth with his own.
Crowley managed to back Loki into a corner where he then proceeded to grind his hips against rather unmentionable parts of Loki's body (like his crotch, home to his penis which had begun to become rather painfully hard).
Loki's thoughts seemed to center around the painful feeling in his groin as Crowley ground harder against him. He was so concerned with the pain in his groin that he hadn't noticed when both his and Crowley's shirts had made their way to the ground. Loki didn't notice his shirt had come off until he felt Crowley's lips move down his neck, to his chest, stopping to tease a nipple on their way further downward. At this point Loki had entirely stopped paying attention to anything except the feel of Crowley's lukewarm lips against his bare skin.
When Crowley reached the waist of Loki's pants he stopped. He looked up at the other being and smirked. Loki had closed his eyes and was still panting; the muscles in his face tensed just a bit. Crowley slid his hand over the (very prominent, painful) bulge in front of his face. There was a hiss as Loki winced, taking in a very sharp breath.
"Painful is it?" the now crouching demon asked the god leaning in the corner. He grinned as Loki nodded.
"Yes, you fucking bastard. It hurts like a bitch so stop touching it," Loki whined. Every muscle around his (rather thoroughly engorged) cock was contracting. Loki hissed and squirmed as the demon rubbed the rather sore body part.
"Oh come now, you don't really want me to stop, do you?" Crowley teased. "Perhaps if I just gave it a little more space?" Crowley undid the fly of Loki's jeans and pulled the jeans down to the god's knees. Crowley was rather pleased with what he saw.
"Commando?" Crowley enquired curiously. The red head rolled his eyes. Crowley snickered and stood up. "Feels much better, now that there's no constriction, doesn't it?" he asked. Loki snarled as he rolled his hips once against the demon. Crowley would have grinned, and possibly added a smart remark as to insatiable Norsemen, but the God of Mischief had closed his mouth around Crowley's.
"Take yours off," the god commanded.
Within moments (and with the help of Loki's impatience), both men were standing naked in the corner of the alley. Crowley was being held up against Loki by the gods strong, long arms. Both were kissing and stroking each other fervently.
A chill ran up Crowley's back and he realized that both were naked in the cold air. He pulled away from the god just enough to get a word or two in.
"I think we should move this somewhere warmer," the demon whispered. Within moments they were lying on a large bed in what seemed like a rather expensive hotel room. Crowley was leaned up against the head board while Loki was straddled over him, grinding his hips against the demon.
Loki nipped and sucked at Crowley's (now existent, but not usually there) nipples as he ran his hands through the demon's hair. Of course, demons are just as insatiable as Norse gods and this certainly was not enough for the (very horny) demon. If he's going to make the effort he wants it to be appreciated.
Crowley tangled his fingers in Loki's flaming red hair and pushed the god's head downwards. He rolled his hips against Loki's face trying to encourage the taller being to pay attention to other parts of his body.
"Please." the demon pleaded (because he's beyond demonic pride at this point). Loki grinned and licked the tip of the demons penis and began to nip at the skin of his inner thighs. The demon hissed and writhed and moaned as the red headed god nipped, licked, and kissed around his groin. Crowley rolled his hips into the kisses and he begged for the god to stop teasing. Loki laughed and began to take the head of Crowley's cock into his mouth.
Loki licked the underside of Crowley's penis as he took it further and further into his mouth. Crowley cried out as Loki (playfully and rather softly) nipped a bit of the skin. He pulled off a little and swirled his tongue around the tip of the demons (not usually existent) penis. Loki continued to take in and then off until Crowley was nearly at the edge and trying to thrust himself in and out of Loki's mouth. Loki pulled away and leaned back at the foot of the bed, grinning at the demon, who was at this point rather pissed off that the god didn't finish what he had started.
"You blessed fucking asshole! What are you doing?" Crowley shouted at Loki, who was now looking rather smug and satisfied with himself.
"I was just thinking how much I'd rather be doing something else right now," the god said as he stalked up, and flipped the demon over on his stomach. Loki straddled over Crowley's ass and began to rub around its opening. Crowley bucked his hips against the mattress as Loki slowly pushed one long finger up towards his prostate. He moaned as a second finger joined the first. He hissed and writhed and pushed back against the god's fingers as a third joined them. Crowley screamed the god's name as the fingers were replaced with a thick, hard cock thrusting in and out, pressing against his prostate.
The morning after, Crowley awoke in a warm, empty bed. The sheets were sticky from the night before. It took the demon a moment to realize what he was doing there. Suddenly memories of that night flooded back to him. He dragged himself out of bed and looked around. The God of Mischief wasn't anywhere to be found in the large room. He looked in to the living room. Still no Loki. Crowley decided he'd take a shower before he continued to search for the god. On the counter was a note:
They finally realized I wasn't down in that fucking cave. There's a
lot of money on my head now. Heimdall showed up at the hotel to
collect me. He made the mistake of trying to go through reception. So,
I'm gone. I got my ass out of there rather than let you to turn me in.
Thanks for the sex
-Loki
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Crowley or Loki. Crowley is property of Neil Gaiman (GNeil) and Terry Pratchett (PTerry). Loki is property of himself and if any of you try to claim him he'll be rather upset. Unless you're trying to claim him in a rather naughty way, then he might not mind.
A Small Note: Any of you who read the comic series by Neil called The Sandman know that Loki is in there. I am sort of setting this encounter between "Season of Mists" and "The Kindly Ones" and before Good Omens.
A Night Out
It was a dark night, most nights are. It wasn't dark and stormy, just dark, like every other night. So, if every night is dark, isn't it sort of redundant to say 'It was a dark and stormy night.'?
So, it was a dark night, just like every other night. And during this dark night a dark figure sat at a dark bus stop waiting for the bus to arrive. He was waiting for a Greyhound. He wondered to himself why they'd call a bus a greyhound. It seemed like a stupid name to him.
The dark figure, who actually wasn't entirely dark for he had rather pale skin, was waiting for the Greyhound that would take him from rural Virginia to the rather urban city of Boston which was a few states north of where he was currently waiting.
The dark figure, who was apparently a man, was beginning to drift off into the Dreaming (a place he did not particularly like, he felt as if the equally dark figure who ruled the place was rather stiff and not very fun) when the Greyhound pulled up. He cursed his boss for taking pity upon him as he boarded the bus.
The dark figure took his seat. Anybody with eyes keen enough would be able to tell that he did not actually give a ticket. He didn't need one. And nobody noticed. Nobody's eyes were that keen (or at least, nobody's minds were).
Now let's skip the boring stuff. Because we all know nothing interesting ever happens on the Greyhound.
The dark figure arrives in Boston and breathes in the polluted air of the city. He grins, a wide and somewhat toothy grin.
"Ah, Boston," he said to himself. "It's all so corrupt, a wonderful change from being in the fucking Bible belt."
The man lit a cigarette and walked out into the city.
A tall, lithe man sat alone at the bar in The Living Room knocking back everything from shots of Tequila to large glasses of cocktails. There was a litany of glasses in front of him.
The cocktail waitress came by with a banana daiquiri. He gave her a mischievous yet somewhat evil smirk and asked the waitress if she'd be interested in heading back to his hotel room with him later. The waitress giggled and nodded before hurrying off to serve some of the other patrons. He leaned back a bit and watched her go.
"This place has got to have some of the best looking waitresses available in this blasted city," he said to nobody in particular. He went to take a swig of his drink and remembered only as the cold rush hit his head that he was drinking a frozen one.
"Ouch! Fuck," he cursed as he rubbed his temples. "Shit, that really fucking hurt." He ran a hand through his red hair. He loved the spiky cut of it. It reminded him of the flames of a fire.
The tall man at the bar was suddenly very aware of some supernatural presence near by. He always hated that ability. He hated being able to tell when there was something supernatural nearby. The feeling paranoid him just a little.
The supernatural signal was suddenly closer. Really close. 'Really fucking too close,' he thought to himself.
"Hello Crowley," the red head said, almost as though the words were acid on his tongue. "What the fuck is a low life demon like you doing here?" He could feel the demon smirking behind him.
"Do you mean here in this bar, or Boston in general?" the demon asked with a grin. He sat down on the stool next to the red headed man and thumbed his sunglasses up his nose.
"Neither," the taller man grunted. "I mean what the fuck are you doing up here, on earth, outside of that shit hole you came from? I mean above ground." The red head turned and glared at the raven haired demon beside him.
"I could ask you the same thing, Loki," Crowley replied with a grin. "It won't be long before they realize you've escaped." Crowley took a sip of the White Russian he was now holding (which seems to have materialized out of no where).
"Whether they realize I'm gone or not, they're still going to have to catch me," Loki said smugly. "It's not as easy as you might think."
"I found you," Crowley added with a grin. Crowley tipped his glasses down so Loki could see his yellow, slit eyes.
"You weren't trying," Loki insisted. "You happened upon me. If I thought I'd have anything to fear from you, you'd never find me." Loki drank the last few drops of his daiquiri.
"You don't fear me?" Crowley asked, curious and vaguely amused. It was always the ones who should fear him who didn't.
"Not at all," Loki sneered. "You Judaeo-Christian types are much too weak to be able to do anything to me." Loki grinned as he got up from the stool and walked out of the bar.
Loki was only a few blocks away from The Living Room when he noticed he was being followed. He panicked a moment before he recognized the signature. He ducked into a particularly dark alley and waited. Just as his pursuer was coming upon the alleyway, Loki jumped out and punched the demon, landing a hit on his opponent's smooth, perfect cheekbone. Loki lifted Crowley up by the collar of his shirt and slammed him up against an alley wall.
"Why the fuck are you following me?" he growled at the demon, who was writhing, trying to free himself from the Norse god's grip. It was obvious Loki wasn't about to let go. Loki laughed at Crowley's efforts.
"I knew demons were weak," he hissed in Crowley's ear. "However, this is pathetic. The famed serpent of Eden can't even wriggle his way out of a heathen god's grip." Loki grinned almost wolfishly as he looked into Crowley's yellow eyes. Crowley winced as Loki's hand wrapped around his neck "Quite a poor snake you turned out to be."
"Let me go," Crowley pleaded. He was pathetic. Demons don't plead. They shouldn't have to plead. But Crowley was sure he was about to be discorporated. Just as Crowley had prepared himself for yet another death he felt the pressing feeling of something wet and rough against his mouth and that his feet were once again on the ground. He felt something warm and wet pry his lips open and slide in. He realized his eyes had been closed and opened them to see the fiery red head was once again holding him by the collar of his shirt and kissing him. Loki was kissing him the way Lucifer used to, back when Crowley was his star demon.
Loki moved his hands behind Crowley, one hand behind the demon's head, the other just above Crowley's ass, and pulled him in closer. He rocked his hips against the demon and slid the fingers of one hand in to Crowley's hair. Loki roughly probed the fork of Crowley's tongue with his own in attempt to get the demon to respond.
Finally, fed up with the lack of response, Loki pushed Crowley away and stepped back. He turned away from the demon and snarled.
"There's no use to this if you're going to just stand there and take it like a fucking victim," Loki growled. "I don't have time for bull shit like this." Loki turned and began to walk away when a hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around.
Suddenly smooth lips were pressed against Loki's rough, scarred lips, a forked tongue flicking across them occasionally. Loki opened his mouth to allow Crowley's tongue inside. Unfortunately for Crowley, a snake's tongue is how he smells things. Crowley pulled away and spat a little.
"Your breath is absolutely horrid," Crowley complained. "You really could use a breath mint." Crowley pulled out a small phial and sprayed its contents inside Loki's mouth (more than was needed I'm certain) and Loki began to hack and cough.
"What the fuck are you trying to do? Choke me? Fucking idiot demon!" Loki screeched. Loki would have yelled at Crowley some more if it weren't for the demon's mouth suddenly reconnecting with his own.
"Shut up," Crowley commanded as he once again (as he would later describe) began to ravish the taller man's mouth with his own.
Crowley managed to back Loki into a corner where he then proceeded to grind his hips against rather unmentionable parts of Loki's body (like his crotch, home to his penis which had begun to become rather painfully hard).
Loki's thoughts seemed to center around the painful feeling in his groin as Crowley ground harder against him. He was so concerned with the pain in his groin that he hadn't noticed when both his and Crowley's shirts had made their way to the ground. Loki didn't notice his shirt had come off until he felt Crowley's lips move down his neck, to his chest, stopping to tease a nipple on their way further downward. At this point Loki had entirely stopped paying attention to anything except the feel of Crowley's lukewarm lips against his bare skin.
When Crowley reached the waist of Loki's pants he stopped. He looked up at the other being and smirked. Loki had closed his eyes and was still panting; the muscles in his face tensed just a bit. Crowley slid his hand over the (very prominent, painful) bulge in front of his face. There was a hiss as Loki winced, taking in a very sharp breath.
"Painful is it?" the now crouching demon asked the god leaning in the corner. He grinned as Loki nodded.
"Yes, you fucking bastard. It hurts like a bitch so stop touching it," Loki whined. Every muscle around his (rather thoroughly engorged) cock was contracting. Loki hissed and squirmed as the demon rubbed the rather sore body part.
"Oh come now, you don't really want me to stop, do you?" Crowley teased. "Perhaps if I just gave it a little more space?" Crowley undid the fly of Loki's jeans and pulled the jeans down to the god's knees. Crowley was rather pleased with what he saw.
"Commando?" Crowley enquired curiously. The red head rolled his eyes. Crowley snickered and stood up. "Feels much better, now that there's no constriction, doesn't it?" he asked. Loki snarled as he rolled his hips once against the demon. Crowley would have grinned, and possibly added a smart remark as to insatiable Norsemen, but the God of Mischief had closed his mouth around Crowley's.
"Take yours off," the god commanded.
Within moments (and with the help of Loki's impatience), both men were standing naked in the corner of the alley. Crowley was being held up against Loki by the gods strong, long arms. Both were kissing and stroking each other fervently.
A chill ran up Crowley's back and he realized that both were naked in the cold air. He pulled away from the god just enough to get a word or two in.
"I think we should move this somewhere warmer," the demon whispered. Within moments they were lying on a large bed in what seemed like a rather expensive hotel room. Crowley was leaned up against the head board while Loki was straddled over him, grinding his hips against the demon.
Loki nipped and sucked at Crowley's (now existent, but not usually there) nipples as he ran his hands through the demon's hair. Of course, demons are just as insatiable as Norse gods and this certainly was not enough for the (very horny) demon. If he's going to make the effort he wants it to be appreciated.
Crowley tangled his fingers in Loki's flaming red hair and pushed the god's head downwards. He rolled his hips against Loki's face trying to encourage the taller being to pay attention to other parts of his body.
"Please." the demon pleaded (because he's beyond demonic pride at this point). Loki grinned and licked the tip of the demons penis and began to nip at the skin of his inner thighs. The demon hissed and writhed and moaned as the red headed god nipped, licked, and kissed around his groin. Crowley rolled his hips into the kisses and he begged for the god to stop teasing. Loki laughed and began to take the head of Crowley's cock into his mouth.
Loki licked the underside of Crowley's penis as he took it further and further into his mouth. Crowley cried out as Loki (playfully and rather softly) nipped a bit of the skin. He pulled off a little and swirled his tongue around the tip of the demons (not usually existent) penis. Loki continued to take in and then off until Crowley was nearly at the edge and trying to thrust himself in and out of Loki's mouth. Loki pulled away and leaned back at the foot of the bed, grinning at the demon, who was at this point rather pissed off that the god didn't finish what he had started.
"You blessed fucking asshole! What are you doing?" Crowley shouted at Loki, who was now looking rather smug and satisfied with himself.
"I was just thinking how much I'd rather be doing something else right now," the god said as he stalked up, and flipped the demon over on his stomach. Loki straddled over Crowley's ass and began to rub around its opening. Crowley bucked his hips against the mattress as Loki slowly pushed one long finger up towards his prostate. He moaned as a second finger joined the first. He hissed and writhed and pushed back against the god's fingers as a third joined them. Crowley screamed the god's name as the fingers were replaced with a thick, hard cock thrusting in and out, pressing against his prostate.
The morning after, Crowley awoke in a warm, empty bed. The sheets were sticky from the night before. It took the demon a moment to realize what he was doing there. Suddenly memories of that night flooded back to him. He dragged himself out of bed and looked around. The God of Mischief wasn't anywhere to be found in the large room. He looked in to the living room. Still no Loki. Crowley decided he'd take a shower before he continued to search for the god. On the counter was a note:
They finally realized I wasn't down in that fucking cave. There's a
lot of money on my head now. Heimdall showed up at the hotel to
collect me. He made the mistake of trying to go through reception. So,
I'm gone. I got my ass out of there rather than let you to turn me in.
Thanks for the sex
-Loki