Breathless
moonlustre
Out of the bath and into the bedroom, Crowley and the reader release some gathered tension. Sequel to Bubble Bath.
Crinkled fingertips tapped against the dark wood of your bedroom door, slowly pushing it open to reveal Crowley sat on the edge of your bed, in a chrysalis of shadow within the dim light of your room. A vague sort of smile was on his features, with his legs crossed and an arm resting on his knee while the other palmed fresh bed sheets. His eyes were crystalline as they flickered up to silently greet you while tracing the outline of your dewy curves, your skin speckled with pearls of water where the pallid towel wrapped around you couldn't cover. The piece of material was tiny around you, the hem barely covering the junction of your thighs or the dark circles of your breasts, and Crowley had quickly devoured your appearance as he wet his lips.
You leaned against the frame of the door and tangled your fingers through the sopping strands of your hair. "I wasn't too long, was I?" You purred, blinking at a leisurely pace.
Crowley rose from the bed to nonchalantly step towards you, shoving his hand into the pockets of his neatly pressed trousers, and you swallowed when he stopped several centimetres before you, forcing you to look up just keep eye contact, and the seven inch height difference was just another log to be thrown into the fire that fuelled the excitement that sat at the pit of your stomach. Without even trying, he'd cornered you, paralysed you in place just by the way he towered over you, and dominated you in as many steps as you had fingers on one hand.
"Not at all, love." The words were low and barely above a whisper, somehow highlighting the gruffness in his voice even further, and an exuberant amount of sensations enslaved you, urging you into action and all sense of impeding the inevitable was discarded.
Damp hands dived for stubbly cheeks, and with little warning Crowley was pulled into a kiss. He couldn't deny that the action was unexpected; he'd anticipated a series of perverse banter and severe teasing before passion took the reins, but he wasn't disappointed by the sudden lack of etiquette the two of you usually displayed in your sex life. On the contrary, he was just as famished as you were, and he was quick to start tangling his tongue with yours, tasting the tang of peppermint as he completely took over your mouth.
Crowley's scent had intoxicated you, a strong aroma of whisky, cologne and a hint of sulphur, and you were so dizzy you barely registered when he wrapped his arms around you to pick you up in a motion not unlike a dance, moving you so he could shut the door with an impatient slam. Your world was idyllic as your backbone collided with the now-locked slab of wood, and your hands were removed from Crowley's face to be pinned above your head, his fingertips kneading your wrists while his free hand cupped your chin. You broke the kiss to softly moan, taking the moment to catch your breath before your lips were captured once again.
Your mind had become completely devoid of anything beyond this moment, your earlier anger at the Winchesters entirely forgotten as you let your king completely enrapture you. He was a dominant soul. You could only guess what had transpired in his kingdom during your hunt to have left him so vexed, but you were completely aware that what Crowley wanted and needed right now was to feel in control. His arousal was palpable, tracing lines as soft as lace down your side to the curve of your thigh, and he tugged on the limb to raise it and latch it onto his pelvis. Another moan broke the silence and you bucked your hips into his, and your name fell on his lips, so husky and smooth like caramel. Hair-dusted fingers ran down the lithe length of your thigh to bury themselves beneath the hem of your towel, and Crowley examined your face for any change. If there were words, you were choking on them, and you could only lean forward to rub the tip of your nose with his, and Crowley knew what this meant, eagerly pressing his mouth on yours as one finger dipped inside your soaked folds.
Kisses were peppered from your mouth to your jawline to the crook of your neck as the lone finger teased the bundle of nerves between your legs, movements so slow you were ready to combust, and you allowed your head to lean back to give Crowley better access. That's when the biting began and the room was filled with a myriad of moans as Crowley's teeth grazed against your collarbone, leaving little marks of varying degrees of severity as he sucked and teased every molecule, slyly adding a second finger against your clit to force your voice up an octave. But it was for naught and his hand left as quickly as it came, his head moving away from you to admire the tessellation of love bites he'd marked you with as they merged with the necklace of bruising you'd acquired from your hunt.
With his chest no longer against yours and with nothing else to hold it together, the towel peeled away from your torso to leave your body bare for the demon king to absorb. Your wrists were freed from their prison as Crowley slowly fell to his knees, and he pressed scratchy kisses and feathering fingertips down your cleavage and stomach until he sat between your legs. Your thigh on his shoulder and his hand on your hip, he stared at your sex with unyielding appetite, admiring the thatch of hair covering the pink pearl he'd just been teasing. Without a moment's thought, you open your legs ever so slightly wider, and he knew he didn't need a further invitation, using two fingers to gently pull your lips apart.
It started with a kiss; tender and sweet that made you flinch and immediately dig your hand into Crowley's hair. You could only look ahead, your blurred vision barely able to take in any of your surroundings, but you just knew he was smirking, filled with masculine pride. What followed was a lick, short and sharp with the tip of his tongue and you sank you teeth into your bottom lip with painful force as your breathing became unsteady. Another caress, languid and with the flat of his tongue, and you didn't need anyone to tell you just how engorged you were, just how soaked. You whimpered, silently begging Crowley to just get on with it.
But the king was enjoying himself greatly.
He sank just a little deeper, enough to barely drag his teeth against you. He couldn't get enough. He could feel himself throbbing against his trousers; you weren't the only one begging for a release. But Crowley needed this. To once again have the control that he knew he was losing in Hell, like sand slipping through his fingers. Another soothe, another whimper, another beg, and another twitch of his cock. It was a repetition that went on and on until you were on the brink as fingernails dug into skin and lewd noises permeated the air, and Crowley had become drunk on the noises and the sweet taste of you. You could see your orgasm amidst the fog of pleasure that had settled over your eyes, an ocean you were desperate to even just dip your toes into, and you began to shiver with the anticipation, the heat in your legs blooming to other parts of you.
"P-please!" You cried, unable to cope with the relentless taunting, and like magic, the teasing stopped, to be replaced by the swirling of his tongue against you with a vibrating grunt that made you see stars. You couldn't take it anymore, shakily chanting Crowley's name, and in return, Crowley's pace quickened, and your toes curled and your fingertips went numb. The intensity was ineffable and you were thrown into a rhapsody until you finally found yourself falling into that ocean, and your orgasm hit you with a potency you'd never experienced before. You were left speechless, breathless—drowning on the waves of your orgasm.
Crowley gave you no warning as he stood up, keeping you steady by keeping his hands clutched on your shaking thighs. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip with a smirk and boosted you up, your legs locking around his hips and your arms around his neck. "Crowley…" you murmured while fiddling with the button on his collar, not quite down from your high yet but desperate to see more of him, and he loosened his tie, carelessly throwing it on the floor whilst you'd managed to undo several buttons of his shirt, and promptly begun to nip and suck at the newly exposed flesh, in love with the feeling of his beard grating against your neck as you bejewelled his skin with marks of ruby red. Expertly, Crowley released his erection from his trousers and aligned himself with you, pushing you further into the door, a loving glint in his eyes. You only had to return it with a seducing smile and you were filled with his length.
There was nothing slow or teasing as you vigorously made love, his face buried into your neck and your fingers clamped onto anything they could grab on to as he pounded into you, a repetitive swerve of his hips that hit you in the perfect place every time, threading heightening moans from your lips with too little ease for you to admit. The knot in your stomach was beginning to tighten once again – you weren't going to last much longer, and by the sounds Crowley was making in your ear (edging you even closer to your release), the king wasn't far from spending himself either. His voice had begun to waver, his breath becoming locked in his throat, and his thrusts hit you harder with a delightfully forceful precision.
"Come for me, kitten. Come for daddy." Crowley slurred before nibbling on the lobe of your ear, and the knot snapped. You threw your head back as you allowed your orgasm to rock you, and within seconds Crowley followed your lead and he bucked his hips into you one final time, forcing you up the expanse of the door an inch or two.
The two of you remained there as you recovered from your highs, heavy breaths forced through the silence. Slowly your muscles relaxed and Crowley pulled out of you, but kept his head attached to your shoulder, peppering gentle kissing along your neckline. "You have no idea how much I needed that." You mused, your voice a little croaky from overuse as you played with your lover's hair, the strands soft and slightly damp from your own still-wet locks.
"No, darling, I do." Crowley purred. He ran his hands over the bruise on your neck. "Bloody Winchesters…"
You sighed and leaned in to peck several kisses on his lips, each one harder than the last until you were gently tugging on his bottom lip. It was then that three precise taps against the door caught you off guard and you glanced from the door to the king and back again, your lips pursed in irritation. Crowley plucked you from your place against the door to drop you onto the cool sheets of your bed, your towel falling from your body and onto the floor, forgotten. You watched intently as he tucked himself back into his trousers with a huff, before he opened the door just a slither.
"If you two are done, she and I need to talk." You couldn't see the offending visitor, but you recognised the voice well enough to know it was Dean and you sighed. He couldn't even use your name? Mature.
Crowley turned back at you, drinking in the luscious lustre of your body lazily spread across the bed. He turned back to Dean with a mischievous smirk. "Sorry, Squirrel, but we're far from done. Get bent." Dean wasn't allowed to offer any sort of rejoinder as the door was shut in his face, and he simply gave an irritated roll of his eyes as he overheard loud giggles resounding from your room, walking away to grab a beer.
Author's Notes
This has been sat on my hard drive for so long.
I kept putting off posting it because I wasn't really that happy with the result,
but I really can't be arsed to mess with it. I haven't re-read it through so apologies for any mistakes!