Summary: Hell is starting to grate on Crowley and his only solace is you.
Through the gap between thick black curtains the sun struggled to pour through, fighting against a thickening autumn fog that had begun to settle comfortably on the frosty plain outside your bedroom window. But with a rustling of crusty leaves bouncing against the glass and the mischievous strobe of light managing to place itself just right to hit the back of Crowley's eyelids, the king was forced awake with a stir.
It was rare for Hell's King to sleep. He was a demon after all; such a chore was unnecessary and often an inconvenience, particularly when it came to running the former domain of Lucifer himself. But, on occasion, when he was allowed a little time away from mundane meetings and the fraternising of Winchesters, he always made a point to be by your side when day gave way to night. Usually you'd already be half asleep by the time he arrived, but the squeak of him removing his shoes and the ruffle of his clothes falling to the floor never failed to pull you back to the land of the awake, even if just a little. A smile would creep on your face as the mattress dipped with his weight, and you'd find yourself falling into the warmth of his hair-dusted chest as his arm gently curled around you.
Sometimes you'd make love if the sudden fire between your legs lit you awake with a bright enough spark. Others you'd listen to his day between kisses laced with whisky. Either way, you'd both fall asleep to the sound of each other's breathing, and it was a miracle that Crowley was not yet numbed to.
Last night was one of the latter, his day a particularly aggravating one caused predominantly by Sam and Dean, as well as their feathered friend Castiel, and while he had found talking a great help relieving his burdens, Crowley couldn't help that, this morning, he needed something more.
His eyes fluttered open after twisting onto his side, his back now facing the offending sunbeams that had jolted him awake in order to pull you further into him. You softly hummed, so soft in fact it was barely audible, and adjusted your own position, flipping in order to press your chest to his and sling your arm around his neck, and your thumb grazed against the shell of his ear as you gathered yourself into him, a hard feeling between his legs brushing against your thigh. A breathy moan left you, vibrating against the crook of the king's neck.
Crowley let out a husky chuckle as his hand travelled from your back to the curve of your thigh to pull your leg over his hip, grinding his crotch against yours in a drawn out motion. You succumbed to another moan, slightly louder this time as you found your voice, and your head rolled back to allow the king to suck on the exposed flesh of your throat, while his hand on your thigh began to make a tingling line to the hem of your underwear. You were pleasantly surprised by the sudden abrasion of his fingernails against the sensitive skin of your rear once his palm had dived behind the lacy fabric, and you drove your fingers through his hair in response, gently tugging every time his hands squeezed a part of your body.
With a light whimper you pulled your head forward and caught Crowley's lips with yours, the kiss deep and unrelenting as you ran your tongue over his bottom lip. But you didn't stay there. The embrace of your lips was cut short, replaced by the peppering of kisses and nibbles across Crowley's jawline, his salt and pepper scruff scratching at your skin in the best of ways.
Completely occupied, the King of Hell was unaware of one of your hands trailing down his chest until it began toying with the waistband of his boxers, the material as black as the bed sheets and just as soft, and he lightly bucked his hips in response. His name danced along your tongue as your fingers finally dipped beneath his underwear. You were quick to begin brushing your lover's erection in slow, tempting motions, purposely avoiding the tip just so you could hear a heavy growl of provocative words and noises in your ear.
His shoulders beneath your free hand were tense, and even in your somewhat sleepy state you were aware of his needs. Hell was starting to weigh heavily on him, more than it had ever done in the past, and antics like this were becoming more common as a result of stress rather than out of love and affection.
The king managed to catch you in a kiss once again and he had little intention of letting your lips leave. He shifted just enough to lean over you, a silent reminder that he was in control, and you were so emotionally overpowered by a single action that you were unable to register that his hand was no longer on your rear. A quick flick of his finger across your clit changed that, and—powerless to release your mouth—you were forced to whine into the kiss, bucking your hips against his.
You only parted when you needed to breathe, and then your mouths quickly reattached.
The sequence continued, of capturing kisses and a cocktail of soft caresses and hard presses against each other's most sensitive places, the room permeated with the risqué rhythm of crude noises and heavy breathing. Your vocals were beginning to pick up in pitch and pace as you felt yourself nearing your orgasm, and the grating of Crowley's hips, and your hand quickening its tempo around his cock along with his own sounds of sexual pleasure was only escalating you both to your releases.
You bit down hard on your bottom lip before shakily calling his name. "Crowley!" His free arm wrapped tighter around your shoulders, as if it were possible to pull you any closer into him, and yet you mimicked his action, clawing at his back as best you could. With quickening breaths and your name in the air, the floodgates of Crowley's release opened, and for a moment his patterned exertion against your clit faltered. He shivered above you, chanting your name like it was going out of fashion and a swift flick of your hips reminded him you hadn't come undone yet.
The circular motions of his fingers resumed and the knot at the pit of your stomach began to tighten until finally it snapped. The moan that was torn from your vocal chords was entirely involuntary as you came, legs quivering as your core convulsed, your orgasm wracking through your body like a bull seeing red, and it was hard to control your breathing. You continued to stroke Crowley's member as you both rode out the waves of your release before you both felt your muscles relax once more, collapsing into the comfort of the mattress beneath you.
Crowley's hand stayed where it was, forcing an uncontrollable twitch every time the tips of his fingers feathered over your pearl again. You couldn't bring yourself to remove your own hand, covered in the sticky, white remains of his orgasm, and a gentle smile graced your features before you grazed the tip of your nose against his again.
As you listened to his breathing, you could feel that the tenseness in his shoulders had gone, and you were relieved to know he'd finally shaken the troubles of yesterday. A series of knocks, as if on cue, pounded against the heavy wooden door behind you, and a small, nervous voice spoke from the other side. "Sire, you have a series of contracts to approve and several more events that require your attention."
The king huffed.
"Don't." You pleaded the word barely above a whisper. Crowley looked from you to the door to you again.
"Sire?" The demon questioned.
Crowley rolled his eyes and glared at the door. "Yes, yes, fine." He looked back at you with an apology in his eyes. "I'll be back later."
"It's lonely here without you." You muttered before you rolled onto your stomach, feeling empty as the warmth of his hands left you. You could only watch helplessly as he dressed himself in his usual suit of black and readied his self for the day, no doubt to return to your bed tired and stressed once more.
Knowing you were alone tore at the remaining pieces of humanity within him and his chest tightened. One day soon he was going to leave Hell behind. But until that time came, he'd have to continue on, returning to you only when it suited Hell or the Winchesters.
"I know, pet." He planted one last kiss on your cheek and walked out of the door, giving the interrupting demon hell as he walked away.
One day soon, the only thing to disturb his unnatural slumber would be the sunbeams. One day soon, he won't leave you alone in the mornings.
This fic gives me feels, ngl. First time writing Crowley smut, right when my obsession with the King returns. Takes place sometime during season twelve.