[Fic] Crowley
Jun. 8th, 2010 06:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeTitle: Crowley
Fandom: Good Omens/Supernatural/RPS
Characters: Crowley/Crowley/Crowley
Word Count: 1,328
Rating: R. What did you expect?
Summary: Orgy of Crowleys
A/N: No, I'm not kidding.
"Well. Don't you look familiar."
"Ah-ah-ah. Technically this body looks familiar. I'm just here for the ride."
The demon Crowleys smirk at each other. They understand what's going on. The human, he thinks he has an idea, and he does have a few of them. Debauchery, debasement. But it’s all mundane corruption. Boring stuff. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, and he’s almost more interested in his reputation as a debased bastard than he is in actually committing the acts. Sad.
Crowley the snake smoothes his palms over his jacket front, preening. Crowley the salesman admires this, this other demon and his fine form, the way the dark linen falls over the human frame.
“What are you doing?”
There’s the magician. Both demons look at each other and roll their eyes a bit. He’s already on something.
“Getting ready,” Crowley says, one eyebrow arched, words perfectly shaped and enunciated. “Why don’t you go right on down to the bed and get yourself ready?”
“Perhaps I will.” The human affects a lofty air and descends the few steps into the pit where a tiny walkway is all the space there is between the seating of the miniature amphitheatre and the huge bed at the center.
Today, there isn’t much of an audience. Neither of them have invited anyone, although the magician seems to have a couple of sycophants in tow. They seat themselves on the edge of the ring, two seats up, and lean into each other so hard the snake demon wonders they haven’t fallen over yet. The salesman comments that they’re propping each other up like good little, and stops just short of the epithet.
“Oh, hush your mouth,” Crowley chuckles, and kisses him.
The salesman tastes of sharp cigarettes, real tobacco, and brandy and some kind of curry spice. Only the finer things in life for him. The snake can appreciate this, but he’s more inclined to appreciate the reasonably solid form under all that suit. As they descend the steps in turn the buttons start slipping out of their fastenings and similarly cut dark jackets hit the floor. Followed by a tie. Followed by a belt.
Someone’s come to watch them. A demon of the salesman Crowley’s acquaintance. He’ll have to get some leverage out of this but the leverage the snake has on his pants is of primary importance here, that and watching the human pleasure himself while lecturing to his captive audience about the importance of self-gratification. It almost makes him laugh and ruin the mood.
“We could just ignore him,” Crowley murmurs, undoing the salesman’s pants and rolling them down to drop to the floor. Or he would be, if the other demon hadn’t teleported only himself to the bed in the moment between ‘ignore’ and ‘him.’ The snake turns, chuckles. “Or we could do that.”
And the snake watches, slowly stripping himself, while the salesman talks the human magician, poor old sap that he is, into putting on a dog collar. One with spikes on. Choke collar, he thinks they call it, or something like that, it doesn’t matter because now Crowley’s fastening it around the human’s neck and they have him so completely he might as well not be human at all. The snake turns to one of the followers, crooks a finger and beckons her closer. He has something that needs attending to.
“It’s fascinating, what humans will do for pleasure.” The salesman leans back on the bed and watches a little as the snake has his snake sucked by a perfectly eager and willing young woman who believes the human Crowley has the wisdom of a god. That this is the way to perfection or enlightenment or some other idiotic notion like that. “If these people truly believed in the notion of one man, one woman..."
“Or anything resembling safety and public health...” The snake’s words get lost in the next couple of gasps. “All right, all right, that’s enough, my dear.”
Crowley laughs. “... they certainly wouldn’t be doing that...” and he turns the human magician over by his hips and parts him open with thumbs between the cheeks. “Here, you. Come over here and make your fearless leader a happy man.”
It takes the other human a second to figure out what the salesman means. Actually, it takes a second and Crowley waving around a truly excessive black rubber cock procured from thin air and a movie set. The salesman strokes himself, watching the humans go at it like salivating sloths while his counterpart drags the girl up onto the bed.
“I don’t think ...” the human says, but Crowley’s thumb is still stroking the edge of his hole as the now-well slicked dildo slides into him and it’s too filling to make him do anything but groan.
“You don’t think, do you,” the salesman mutters. “And I’ve seen your sex partners. You’ve had bigger.”
“I don’t think you’re getting enough attention,” Crowley murmurs behind him, coming up and sliding both hands around his hips and pulling him back. Not only can he feel Crowley’s hard and dripping cock sliding up against his hole, he can feel the heat of the fires against his back, with a burning coal right where the snake’s body’s heart would be. It’s enough to send him rolling forward onto his stomach on the bed, panting and groaning.
“You might be right,” Crowley gasps, and groans again as Crowley slides in deep and fast. It burns, yes, but a little pain never hurt anyone, and they’re well equipped not only to take it but also to not have to bother with little things like bottles or tubes or anything; the slicking gel just appears where they want it. On their cocks. The stuff homoerotic fantasies are made of. This is the stuff homoerotic fantasies are made of, the snake’s cock is barbed tonight, and he always was kinky for that. Not sharpened, but barbed. “You complete me,” he moans, smirking, and hears Crowley snort and laugh.
In another moment they’ve found their rhythm and he rises up to his hands and knees, and then is pulled up with the snake’s arm around his chest. “Be a dear and take care of this for me, would you?” One hand gestures between his legs to the girl. “No, wait. I’ve a better idea.” And he wraps his hand around the human magician’s leash and tugs. The sudden pressure of several blunted points into his neck chokes him off from the cry of climax. Pity.
But now Crowley’s reeling in his human namesake, or Crowley’s namesake, one of them, and Crowley has no choice but to waddle forward on his hands and knees with the last several inches of the black rubber cock waggling merrily out his ass behind him. Crowley smiles, pets his hair “Good boy.” And pushes the human’s head down onto his dripping hard-on. Breathing out sharp and fast with relief. “Oh, very good boy.”
Crowley murmurs something in his ear but he doesn’t quite catch it because now they’re really going at it, he’s giving it to Crowley’s tight ass with his body pressed up against him and he’s got his head lolled back against Crowley’s shoulder with one hand fisted tight around the leash and the fingers of the other digging into Crowley’s hair and Crowley’s having his ass worked up again with that other human and the dildo while the woman sucks Crowley’s cock like a calf at a teat. It’s hot, it’s searing and squelchy and as the demons cascade climax one after the other it burns cold, and the human weeps as it slides down his throat.
Afterwards, the demons stretch out on the bed, leaving the humans to curl up on the floor. “At least we gave them cushions,” Crowley murmurs.
Crowley doesn’t indulge in much more than snickering into his shoulder.
Fandom: Good Omens/Supernatural/RPS
Characters: Crowley/Crowley/Crowley
Word Count: 1,328
Rating: R. What did you expect?
Summary: Orgy of Crowleys
A/N: No, I'm not kidding.
"Well. Don't you look familiar."
"Ah-ah-ah. Technically this body looks familiar. I'm just here for the ride."
The demon Crowleys smirk at each other. They understand what's going on. The human, he thinks he has an idea, and he does have a few of them. Debauchery, debasement. But it’s all mundane corruption. Boring stuff. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, and he’s almost more interested in his reputation as a debased bastard than he is in actually committing the acts. Sad.
Crowley the snake smoothes his palms over his jacket front, preening. Crowley the salesman admires this, this other demon and his fine form, the way the dark linen falls over the human frame.
“What are you doing?”
There’s the magician. Both demons look at each other and roll their eyes a bit. He’s already on something.
“Getting ready,” Crowley says, one eyebrow arched, words perfectly shaped and enunciated. “Why don’t you go right on down to the bed and get yourself ready?”
“Perhaps I will.” The human affects a lofty air and descends the few steps into the pit where a tiny walkway is all the space there is between the seating of the miniature amphitheatre and the huge bed at the center.
Today, there isn’t much of an audience. Neither of them have invited anyone, although the magician seems to have a couple of sycophants in tow. They seat themselves on the edge of the ring, two seats up, and lean into each other so hard the snake demon wonders they haven’t fallen over yet. The salesman comments that they’re propping each other up like good little, and stops just short of the epithet.
“Oh, hush your mouth,” Crowley chuckles, and kisses him.
The salesman tastes of sharp cigarettes, real tobacco, and brandy and some kind of curry spice. Only the finer things in life for him. The snake can appreciate this, but he’s more inclined to appreciate the reasonably solid form under all that suit. As they descend the steps in turn the buttons start slipping out of their fastenings and similarly cut dark jackets hit the floor. Followed by a tie. Followed by a belt.
Someone’s come to watch them. A demon of the salesman Crowley’s acquaintance. He’ll have to get some leverage out of this but the leverage the snake has on his pants is of primary importance here, that and watching the human pleasure himself while lecturing to his captive audience about the importance of self-gratification. It almost makes him laugh and ruin the mood.
“We could just ignore him,” Crowley murmurs, undoing the salesman’s pants and rolling them down to drop to the floor. Or he would be, if the other demon hadn’t teleported only himself to the bed in the moment between ‘ignore’ and ‘him.’ The snake turns, chuckles. “Or we could do that.”
And the snake watches, slowly stripping himself, while the salesman talks the human magician, poor old sap that he is, into putting on a dog collar. One with spikes on. Choke collar, he thinks they call it, or something like that, it doesn’t matter because now Crowley’s fastening it around the human’s neck and they have him so completely he might as well not be human at all. The snake turns to one of the followers, crooks a finger and beckons her closer. He has something that needs attending to.
“It’s fascinating, what humans will do for pleasure.” The salesman leans back on the bed and watches a little as the snake has his snake sucked by a perfectly eager and willing young woman who believes the human Crowley has the wisdom of a god. That this is the way to perfection or enlightenment or some other idiotic notion like that. “If these people truly believed in the notion of one man, one woman..."
“Or anything resembling safety and public health...” The snake’s words get lost in the next couple of gasps. “All right, all right, that’s enough, my dear.”
Crowley laughs. “... they certainly wouldn’t be doing that...” and he turns the human magician over by his hips and parts him open with thumbs between the cheeks. “Here, you. Come over here and make your fearless leader a happy man.”
It takes the other human a second to figure out what the salesman means. Actually, it takes a second and Crowley waving around a truly excessive black rubber cock procured from thin air and a movie set. The salesman strokes himself, watching the humans go at it like salivating sloths while his counterpart drags the girl up onto the bed.
“I don’t think ...” the human says, but Crowley’s thumb is still stroking the edge of his hole as the now-well slicked dildo slides into him and it’s too filling to make him do anything but groan.
“You don’t think, do you,” the salesman mutters. “And I’ve seen your sex partners. You’ve had bigger.”
“I don’t think you’re getting enough attention,” Crowley murmurs behind him, coming up and sliding both hands around his hips and pulling him back. Not only can he feel Crowley’s hard and dripping cock sliding up against his hole, he can feel the heat of the fires against his back, with a burning coal right where the snake’s body’s heart would be. It’s enough to send him rolling forward onto his stomach on the bed, panting and groaning.
“You might be right,” Crowley gasps, and groans again as Crowley slides in deep and fast. It burns, yes, but a little pain never hurt anyone, and they’re well equipped not only to take it but also to not have to bother with little things like bottles or tubes or anything; the slicking gel just appears where they want it. On their cocks. The stuff homoerotic fantasies are made of. This is the stuff homoerotic fantasies are made of, the snake’s cock is barbed tonight, and he always was kinky for that. Not sharpened, but barbed. “You complete me,” he moans, smirking, and hears Crowley snort and laugh.
In another moment they’ve found their rhythm and he rises up to his hands and knees, and then is pulled up with the snake’s arm around his chest. “Be a dear and take care of this for me, would you?” One hand gestures between his legs to the girl. “No, wait. I’ve a better idea.” And he wraps his hand around the human magician’s leash and tugs. The sudden pressure of several blunted points into his neck chokes him off from the cry of climax. Pity.
But now Crowley’s reeling in his human namesake, or Crowley’s namesake, one of them, and Crowley has no choice but to waddle forward on his hands and knees with the last several inches of the black rubber cock waggling merrily out his ass behind him. Crowley smiles, pets his hair “Good boy.” And pushes the human’s head down onto his dripping hard-on. Breathing out sharp and fast with relief. “Oh, very good boy.”
Crowley murmurs something in his ear but he doesn’t quite catch it because now they’re really going at it, he’s giving it to Crowley’s tight ass with his body pressed up against him and he’s got his head lolled back against Crowley’s shoulder with one hand fisted tight around the leash and the fingers of the other digging into Crowley’s hair and Crowley’s having his ass worked up again with that other human and the dildo while the woman sucks Crowley’s cock like a calf at a teat. It’s hot, it’s searing and squelchy and as the demons cascade climax one after the other it burns cold, and the human weeps as it slides down his throat.
Afterwards, the demons stretch out on the bed, leaving the humans to curl up on the floor. “At least we gave them cushions,” Crowley murmurs.
Crowley doesn’t indulge in much more than snickering into his shoulder.