Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. A.N. Happy birthday. Old Ping Hai, love! (Again. I know. Embarrassing.) This isn't even the ending, because these boys refuse to be rushed. When one's immortal, and another's probably gonna resurrect anyways, you can take the scenic route, I guess?
"Can I have them?" Crowley asked, reaching out.
"Sure. I'm not going to forget them." Sam slipped the little slip of paper towards him with a finger.
Part of Crowley almost wanted to chide him. The things he could have done with it. One of mum's favorite spells... Never mind. Sam trusted him to do him no harm. Which was thrilling, almost humbling but also just a tiny bit insulting. Especially since, apparently, he didn't trust Crowley to remember literally 3 little shoulds. The other part of him was planning to pin it in his bedroom anyway, since it was unlikely he'd ever pin his moose to the selfsame wall. Yes, they'd agreed to play. But with so much room upstairs, what would lead to the boy visiting his private quarters in hell? He covered the sting of irritation with a smile. "Ta. I'll see you soon, won't I?"
That wasn't what Sam was expecting. The wide-eyed look made him seem younger. He opened his mouth...before snapping it shut and nodding sharply. "Sure. Bye." He could play nonchalant all he wanted, but he'd been this close to protesting. Yes, they'd be exclusive. Yes, Crowley had basically demanded that they have sex. And yes, there was a bed right there.
Despite all the courting, though, Crowley wasn't going to jump him on the spot, knowing he could. Hell, exactly because he could, now. No need to lunge at chances that might disappear in the blink of an eye. He'd been serious: that Sam didn't need him was one of the biggest turn-ons. Well, Crowley was a fucking king. He wasn't going to act needy, either, no matter how deliciously tempting the circumstances were.
Besides, subverting Moose's expectations would force him to think about Crowley. He knew his target, give him a puzzle and he'd be like a dog with a bone. When he couldn't get Crowley out of his mind, and with all that space between them again...and with the rule, or promise, or call it what you want hanging in their interstitial void...Moose would have a chance to want him in turn. More data on their "thing" (seriously what were they, teenagers?) for him to puzzle out.
Yes, going back to the waiting game was boring, and demanded more self-control than ever. But he was so close. Sam was more like a wild beast than he'd ever be comfortable admitting. You don't chase one, unless you plan to kill it (and are well aware it might kill you instead). You sit your arse down and let it come to you in its own sweet time. And then wait some more, until it stops bolting if you so much as twitch.
It was always funny, though, how Moose tried to secure the high ground for every interaction.
- Hope you haven't forgotten the rules. -
The text made Crowley grin. - Hope you haven't forgotten that you can still listen in, or you'd know full well I wasn't breaking any. Concussed, darling? -
The reply was swift. - Just because I could check at any time, it doesn't mean that I am checking at all times, and you know that. I remember very well exactly how much time technically not needing to sleep frees up. -
Mmm...yes, those had been fun times. Though Crowley hadn't dared approach him for play then. If Moose was wild now, Crowley wouldn't have been surprised if he went full mantis then, and he'd rather survive the encounter, ta. Still, reading about it (and the occasional, very careful snooping) had been delightful. He texted back. -Are you assuming I couldn't possibly go this long without a bed warmer? Because I'll have you know, Moose, there are many, many options for entertainment. And being a king is a busier job than you'd suspect. -
- A job you can't wait to ditch. -
There was no need for emoticons, the bitchface came through all the same. Sam was also right, though. Which was why Crowley dropped that line of reasoning entirely.
- You don't have to play jealous, you know. You can just invite me. The point was mutual satisfaction, wasn't it? -
Words chosen very carefully. Play jealous, of course. As if actually being jealous would be unthinkable. Honestly, it should have been. He wasn't the one who disappointed, once the terms were clear (with the once in a blue moon exception, fine). He wouldn't say that he didn't find it cute, though. Not that he was going to tell him as much: letting that adjective slip would have forced Moose to prove exactly how scary he could be. Yeah, yeah, Crowley knew. He still found jealousy, in itself, a little bratty – hence the cute.
- Yeah. And you were explicit about having needs, so. Not taking what you've bargained for seems suspicious. -
Crowley chuckled. - If it's not a contract, there's no bargain. Or are you changing the terms? Because if so, we're down a few kisses. That thing I have is unsigned, you know. -
- Isn't a contract sealed with just one? -
- Yep. But once we start, well...I don't plan to stop. Which is why I've been distracting myself otherwise. You did say I had to stay out of cases, and I'll occupy a lot of your free time. Which you might not have at the moment. So how is it? Are you requesting my presence? -
A hesitation, then Moose concluded – I'll let you know. -
Oh well. He'd thought he had him now, for sure. That went to show you could never be sure of anything with the Winchesters.
It was only a couple days later, at least from Moose's perspective, when his phone rang. "Hello, Crowley."
"Moose. Always a pleasure. What can I do for you this time?"
"Thought you might want to know I have nothing at all to do for the foreseeable future. Or, until we find another case anyway...but I'm not looking for one."
Crowley wouldn't be surprised if his grin could be felt over the phone. "Are you asking, Moose?" he purred.
"I'm offering. You didn't sound busy either, so..."
"How considerate of you to check beforehand." He wasn't even taking the piss. "Where to?"
"The bunker. Dean's out. And no, I didn't bribe him. Told him I'd call you, and that the place is vast enough he wouldn't even notice you were here, but apparently he doesn't trust you. Or possibly me." Sam laughed.
"Be there"Crowley wasn't entirely sure what to think about Sam not summoning him straight in. On the one hand, that left him at the door waiting to be let inside – but on the other, it was kinda delightfully domestic. And the wait wasn't long at all.
Still... "What? No welcome kiss?"
"You wanted to take things slow, so I made my plans. Detailed. And in the interest of full disclosure, I am a little disappointed that I had to table this last time because his majesty can't be rushed."
"Not the first time, Moose. I love quick and dirty as much as anyone, but after all this time? You deserve better than a rushed fuck." Crowley smirked. "For the future, now..."
"Noted." And then Sam took his hand and started leading him. And if they stopped a time or three on the stairs for languid kisses that didn't strain anyone's neck...Well, Crowley wasn't complaining. Moose really calculated everything, huh?
Much, much, much later, Crowley will have to make a note to self: do not disappoint Moose. Preferably ever. It's not that they haven't enjoyed themselves. It's been all Crowley could ever hope for and then some. But if Chuck ever published this, the perfect chapter title would be "Careful What You Wish For."
When he'd demanded that Sam not withhold sex, sure that he could find other ways to make any displeasure known, Crowley had been thinking of the fun ways. A whip, maybe, or a knife. The average fare of an entertaining night. He should have known there was nothing at all average about Sam Winchester.
Moose's indeed painstakingly detailed plans involved strictly pleasure, and nothing else. Only, every time Crowley thought they were there, and maybe after a breather and a snack they could move onto round two...Sam'd slow down, and leave them both hanging. It wouldn't do to rush after all, would it? They had all night. He never even stopped touching Crowley completely, just to make sure to drive him entirely out of his mind.
At first, the demon had been delighted. After a while, he'd tried apologizing. Sam had laughed, and promised him all was already forgotten. But, apparently, not forgiven. Words mattered. Even later, the king had resorted to begging. Not like anyone else would know. All he got was a haughty tut and a "I'm doing what you wanted, don't be silly."
Crowley should have known not to test him. Sam was born to be the evilest that ever eviled. Or host him, same difference. The demon didn't care if it was natural talent or truly inspired (in every sense of the word) work. He wasn't sure he'd survive the night with his sanity intact.
When he'd tried pleading for just Sam to come, he'd behave, thinking that'd herald a short reprieve for both of them all the same, he heard, "Ok, now you're insulting me." He wasn't actually trying to besmirch anyone's stamina, but he'd never backtracked more quickly about anything.
In the end, Moose had taken pity on them both, thank him (the king of hell definitely wasn't going to worship anyone else), and the result had been the single most glorious orgasm of Crowley's long and variegated sexual career. It took him a little while to double-check he hadn't accidentally left his meatsuit in the process. "I might need a year to recover from this," he sighed.
"Yeah, well, I'm not sure in three days we won't have found a case yet," Sam replied with a Cheshire cat grin.
"Mmm...Well, whenever there's a free spot in your agenda." He'd enjoyed the game until now; the chase. But now there was no way he'd ever turn his back on Sam. He couldn't hold back a chuckle.
"What's so funny?"
"You should come with warning labels, Moose, like cigarettes. I mean, 'can cause a slow and painful death' was always a given, but I didn't know you'd be addictive, too."
Sam laughed too. "Is that your idea of flattering?"
Crowley shook his head. "It's the most honest I've been in centuries." How could the man not know?