Jaguar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kittydesade) wrote2010-06-16 07:05 am
kittydesade) wrote2010-06-16 07:05 am
Entry tags:
[Fic] Aggressive Negotiations
Title: Aggressive Negotiations
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Ruby/Crowley
Word Count: ~2500
Rating: R
Summary: Crowley has something Ruby wants. Ruby has something Crowley wants. Ruby loses.
A/N: Dub-con, whether the dub is more or less clear depends, I think, on your interpretation.
Negotiations were a delicate business. If you weren’t careful, you found yourself paying more than you wanted for something that was worth less than you thought. Crowley had learned that lesson repeatedly, less often these days but it was still worth keeping in mind as he faced down the pretty blonde woman with the very old woman inside her.
“Well? Do you have it?”
Crowley smiled. “Hold your horses, love. I thought we could talk for a bit first."
"What's there to talk about? You have my materials. I have your payment." Not money, not cash. Not between them. Her payment came in the form of a small black vial with a viscous liquid that had taken her a lot of time to accumulate. And it still wasn't as valuable as the materials she needed to finish the damn knife.
He allowed himself a step or two closer. Her having the knife, her making the bloody thing put him on edge, but the word had come down that this was what was needed to get the job done. So this was what everyone was told to do; help her in any way they could. Of course, he was a crossroads demon, he had a job to do, so he couldn't exactly make it easy for her. Had to make a profit somehow.
Getting his jollies was just an extra special bonus.
"Are we doing this deal or not?"
"Pucker up, sweetheart."
He should have known better than to trust her. She was that bitch's favorite for a reason.
Crowley caught her hand in his pocket and held it there, squeezing her wrist tight enough that he could hear the bones of her meatsuit grinding together. "Aw, love, if you wanted that, you could have just asked. That, you can have for free."
"I wouldn't touch you to…"
Well, why not. They were already lips to lips, or close enough to it. And even if he couldn't read other demons quite as well as he could humans, he hadn't been the King of the Crossroads for the last few centuries without learning how to negotiate. How to read the signs of body and voice rather than minds. Her body was screaming to be touched. Her voice was screaming to be challenged.
She reached up her other hand to jab her fingers into his throat, and he grabbed her other wrist. “Ah ah ah...” he hissed out through a toothy smile. "No."
"You stupid, slimy bastard..."
"Look who's talking."
There was a moment there, just a moment, when he wasn't sure she wanted it. And then he had to make a decision, searching her stolen face with borrowed eyes for signs distorted by her human body. Not that he was squeamish, but he had to be in the right frame of mind and mood for rape, and this wasn't it. He wanted to play with his food, not devour it, ripping and tearing. But he was hungry. So to speak.
She did respond. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded, half-closed, and her body relaxed enough that her wrists went limp in his hands, though he didn't let go. Not a tricky bitch like her. She tilted her face up to his and sidled closer, till he had just decided to go with it, either way. She wasn't fighting. Actually, she was leaning into it. Brushing up against him. Encouraging him. His smile stretched into a smirk as he leaned back, closer, pulled her closer.
The pain was all the more intrusive for being unexpected. Her knee slammed into his crotch hard enough to make him let go of her wrists. Predictably, she turned and bolted.
"Oh no you don't..."
He tackled her on the dirt in front of her hide-out, knocking the breath out of her against the rocks and the hard-packed ground. She beat at him with her fists, but he cracked her head against the ground first and she went limp.
"There," Crowley panted, smirking. "Now we can have this conversation some place a little more civilized."
Ruby didn't open her eyes when she woke. Her head didn't hurt at least, which spoke either to Crowley's compassion or her own durability, and she wouldn't have wanted to put money on which it was. He was a bit strange, for a demon. After the lack of pain had registered everything else had a chance to come into focus, metaphorically speaking. The most prominent sensations were the ones on her skin.
She was naked, first of all. Naked and lying on a carpet of some kind that was soft and probably very ornate, knowing him. The ropes weren't standard hemp or cotton or anything like that, either, these were soft linen ropes, well crafted. And well tied, too. Hands behind her back and bound along two inches of wrist, then up just above the elbows. Her ankles were bound, too, and the ropes criss-crossed over her body in a pattern that became clear only when she tried to shift and the knot rubbed up and down between her legs. That, she had felt but still hadn't expected. Not like this.
The other thing she noticed was that the hellhounds were slobbering over her body.
Two of them. One of them panted, hot and humid breath reeking of feces and human meat over her neck, close enough for the smell to offend her nose. Close enough for that entire side of her neck to go damp in a few moments. The other one was panting somewhat lower, and it made the ropes wet . Made her skin wet and drip in interesting places. Between that and the fact that the hellhound's teeth were an inch from her neck, the bite strength alone could break through bone and muscle, she was ten times as aware as she had been a moment ago. Listening to the crackle of the fire behind her head and feeling the faint heat against the top of her head, a pale contrast to the blast furnace on her skin just in front of her left ear. Catching the scent of pine under the hellhound, fine leather, damp linen and, slowly, her own body. She tried to move again, and the rope rubbed at her again, and she moaned, leaned her head back and opened her eyes.
Crowley was watching her. Sitting in an old leather armchair across from the fire with her on the carpet between them, smirking at her. That smug bastard I-win smirk. It made her want to punch him in the face. It also made her heart race and her breath quicken, and the hellhound drop his muzzle closer to her inner thigh to investigate that stronger scent.
"Ooh," he leered. "Is that for me?"
She flipped him off in her mind. "Call off your dogs."
"Or you'll what? Drip on my nice clean carpet?" But a second later he did whistle and pat the arm of the chair, and the hellhounds got up and sat obediently around where he was lounging. Their heads came up higher than the arms of the chair. He was a bastard, but he had power.
"I didn't know you knew this stuff." She kept her eyes on him, searching his face and posture for some sign of what he'd been doing while she'd been unconscious. The whole humping her leg thing might have fooled some of the younger demons but she wasn't going to trust that Crowley just had sex on the brain when he could have gotten that from any of his henchpeople.
"There's a lot you don't know that I know," he said, and he stood and shook off his suit coat, folding it neatly and laying it over the arm of the chair. Undid his tie and draped it over the coat. Took off his belt. "You don't seem to mind."
Ruby kept quiet. It was hard to say just what he had in mind, apart from torturing her in old and interesting ways. Or maybe new and interesting ways. Crowley might not have much imagination with the hooks and the knives, but rumor had it that the way he could get inside your head and twist it all around was just spectacular. It was how he'd become the King of the Crossroads, after all. It made him almost appealing, even in this form. All right, especially in this form, this current body actually wasn't half bad.
And if she could just figure out what he was planning, she'd feel free to enjoy it a lot more.
"So, you're Lilith's errand bitch now." Conversational tone.
"Errand bitch?" Ruby's eyebrows shot up.
"Pet whore? Whatever you want to call yourself. Makes no difference to me." Unbuttoning a couple buttons on his shirt. Her eyes followed his fingers, then back up to his face. "Did she teach you how to make the knife, or was that your doing?"
She showed him her teeth. "Give me the ingredients and I'll show you up close and personal how it works, you slimy son of a ..."
He reached out with one hand, closing it around the air, and the air whooshed out of her lungs, throat constricting. Her body arched against its bonds all on its own, muscles creaked. That little knot moved. He let her go again, and she slumped.
"Manners," he oozed. Coming down to kneel beside her, one hand resting on her knee. Fingers trailing up the inside of her thigh, carrying wetness into slickness. "Lilith should have taught you better." He paused. "I think I would have enjoyed that."
"You're sick," she commented, but neither of them were either insulted or surprised. It wasn't even that sick as far as they were concerned. He still wasn't giving any sign of what he wanted. That concerned her somewhat more than the kinky sex games he wanted to play. Kinky sex games could be fun.
But if all he wanted was fun, he could have just asked. Sort of. Maybe asking would have spoiled the fun for both of them, on second thought.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Who does the knife kill?" His fingers kept moving upward, stopping just short of the rope, and when she didn't answer quickly enough for him they curled till she could feel the knuckles brushing through her curls and against her skin and her throat closed again. Gasping for breath made her toes curl and tingle. Spots flickered.
He let her go and she wheezed, unable to move or get a comfortable position. "You think..." she panted, body tensing. "You think... I'm going to tell you?"
"Oh, I know you're not. This is just for fun."
"Fuck you."
This time, she almost did black out. Her fingers and toes were going numb, her body was tingling. In a way that was more pleasant than not. Funny, how this had never been fun before, this whole business of her lungs burning with the need for oxygen. Either dry-drowning in fire or drowning in the ducking stool, it had never been fun. But this was getting her hot. A heat he most certainly could feel, given where his hand was. She had to be dripping, the darker blonde curls already dampened by the hellhound's breath now soaked and stinking of rotting meat and female arousal.
Hell, maybe this was why he did it. It turned him on, seeing her helpless. And now he knew it turned her on, too. Maybe it really was just about the sex. Except this wasn't the kind of sex you could get by agreeing to it beforehand. She'd been slumming it before, but never this dangerous.
"Get on with it already," she panted. "You bastard."
"You can do better than that."
Her eyes gleamed, somewhere between mischievous and impatiently irritated. "I'm not the one making promises and not living up to them."
He laughed, leaned in and his mouth was right against her neck, surprisingly soft lips and hot breath that smelled of brandy and chocolate when he squeezed her throat. Again, to the point of blacking out, and not further.
The bastard was doing it on purpose and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. He cut off her air and she gasped, everything going numb and the sensations making her arch, which made her bindings rub against her body. And then the breath flowed back into her and the awakening nerve endings tingling and pulsing and turning her on that way. He didn't even have to touch her and he would have her begging for it, she wanted to beg for it, she wanted to promise him anything if he would just keep the fucking incredible sensations going. Keep her at this height of stimulation.
When the words started falling from her lips she didn't notice. Too starved. She would beg and he would cut her off when he got tired of it and she would moan and then, at some point, the begging got to even him. Ruby felt the ropes fall away to the floor a second before he was on top of her, inside her. Hot and driving, no longer smiling, all snarls and fucking her hard and fast. She should have killed him or at least hurt him for that. Her nails scratched down his back as she clutched him as close as she could. Deeper. Harder.
He slowed down just at the end, when she could tell he was panting for it by how he moved. One hand slid up her body, cupped her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple. Cheap gestures. His hand moved up to her throat and she held her breath, waiting for it. "You'll give me what I want," he said, lips forming the words and barely more than that.
"Yes." She was too dazed to come up with anything more.
"Whenever I want it."
She couldn't think beyond the sex. Except for a small part of her which was sitting back, admiring and taking notes. Crowley, you bastard. "Yes."
"And in return, I'll give you those last ingredients." His lips curved up in a very, very sick smile. "And a little something else."
"Yes," she breathed, right before he squeezed.
"Good girl."
Somewhere between kiss and climax it occurred to her that he wasn't going to let up this time, but it didn't matter because the sensation was too fucking good, nerves firing all over her body as she heard him roar and felt him go and her body spasmed and then everything did go black.
There was a big wet spot on his carpet. He'd have to have that cleaned.
Crowley hummed a little tune as he picked up from his little escapade. Ropes, clothes, a pat to the hellhounds as he headed for the shower. They'd done well. Maybe next time he'd give them a little treat as a reward. Or maybe he'd keep on keeping her all for himself. She'd squirmed so nicely. He touched the ropes to his lips again, breathed in her scent.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Ruby/Crowley
Word Count: ~2500
Rating: R
Summary: Crowley has something Ruby wants. Ruby has something Crowley wants. Ruby loses.
A/N: Dub-con, whether the dub is more or less clear depends, I think, on your interpretation.
Negotiations were a delicate business. If you weren’t careful, you found yourself paying more than you wanted for something that was worth less than you thought. Crowley had learned that lesson repeatedly, less often these days but it was still worth keeping in mind as he faced down the pretty blonde woman with the very old woman inside her.
“Well? Do you have it?”
Crowley smiled. “Hold your horses, love. I thought we could talk for a bit first."
"What's there to talk about? You have my materials. I have your payment." Not money, not cash. Not between them. Her payment came in the form of a small black vial with a viscous liquid that had taken her a lot of time to accumulate. And it still wasn't as valuable as the materials she needed to finish the damn knife.
He allowed himself a step or two closer. Her having the knife, her making the bloody thing put him on edge, but the word had come down that this was what was needed to get the job done. So this was what everyone was told to do; help her in any way they could. Of course, he was a crossroads demon, he had a job to do, so he couldn't exactly make it easy for her. Had to make a profit somehow.
Getting his jollies was just an extra special bonus.
"Are we doing this deal or not?"
"Pucker up, sweetheart."
He should have known better than to trust her. She was that bitch's favorite for a reason.
Crowley caught her hand in his pocket and held it there, squeezing her wrist tight enough that he could hear the bones of her meatsuit grinding together. "Aw, love, if you wanted that, you could have just asked. That, you can have for free."
"I wouldn't touch you to…"
Well, why not. They were already lips to lips, or close enough to it. And even if he couldn't read other demons quite as well as he could humans, he hadn't been the King of the Crossroads for the last few centuries without learning how to negotiate. How to read the signs of body and voice rather than minds. Her body was screaming to be touched. Her voice was screaming to be challenged.
She reached up her other hand to jab her fingers into his throat, and he grabbed her other wrist. “Ah ah ah...” he hissed out through a toothy smile. "No."
"You stupid, slimy bastard..."
"Look who's talking."
There was a moment there, just a moment, when he wasn't sure she wanted it. And then he had to make a decision, searching her stolen face with borrowed eyes for signs distorted by her human body. Not that he was squeamish, but he had to be in the right frame of mind and mood for rape, and this wasn't it. He wanted to play with his food, not devour it, ripping and tearing. But he was hungry. So to speak.
She did respond. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded, half-closed, and her body relaxed enough that her wrists went limp in his hands, though he didn't let go. Not a tricky bitch like her. She tilted her face up to his and sidled closer, till he had just decided to go with it, either way. She wasn't fighting. Actually, she was leaning into it. Brushing up against him. Encouraging him. His smile stretched into a smirk as he leaned back, closer, pulled her closer.
The pain was all the more intrusive for being unexpected. Her knee slammed into his crotch hard enough to make him let go of her wrists. Predictably, she turned and bolted.
"Oh no you don't..."
He tackled her on the dirt in front of her hide-out, knocking the breath out of her against the rocks and the hard-packed ground. She beat at him with her fists, but he cracked her head against the ground first and she went limp.
"There," Crowley panted, smirking. "Now we can have this conversation some place a little more civilized."
Ruby didn't open her eyes when she woke. Her head didn't hurt at least, which spoke either to Crowley's compassion or her own durability, and she wouldn't have wanted to put money on which it was. He was a bit strange, for a demon. After the lack of pain had registered everything else had a chance to come into focus, metaphorically speaking. The most prominent sensations were the ones on her skin.
She was naked, first of all. Naked and lying on a carpet of some kind that was soft and probably very ornate, knowing him. The ropes weren't standard hemp or cotton or anything like that, either, these were soft linen ropes, well crafted. And well tied, too. Hands behind her back and bound along two inches of wrist, then up just above the elbows. Her ankles were bound, too, and the ropes criss-crossed over her body in a pattern that became clear only when she tried to shift and the knot rubbed up and down between her legs. That, she had felt but still hadn't expected. Not like this.
The other thing she noticed was that the hellhounds were slobbering over her body.
Two of them. One of them panted, hot and humid breath reeking of feces and human meat over her neck, close enough for the smell to offend her nose. Close enough for that entire side of her neck to go damp in a few moments. The other one was panting somewhat lower, and it made the ropes wet . Made her skin wet and drip in interesting places. Between that and the fact that the hellhound's teeth were an inch from her neck, the bite strength alone could break through bone and muscle, she was ten times as aware as she had been a moment ago. Listening to the crackle of the fire behind her head and feeling the faint heat against the top of her head, a pale contrast to the blast furnace on her skin just in front of her left ear. Catching the scent of pine under the hellhound, fine leather, damp linen and, slowly, her own body. She tried to move again, and the rope rubbed at her again, and she moaned, leaned her head back and opened her eyes.
Crowley was watching her. Sitting in an old leather armchair across from the fire with her on the carpet between them, smirking at her. That smug bastard I-win smirk. It made her want to punch him in the face. It also made her heart race and her breath quicken, and the hellhound drop his muzzle closer to her inner thigh to investigate that stronger scent.
"Ooh," he leered. "Is that for me?"
She flipped him off in her mind. "Call off your dogs."
"Or you'll what? Drip on my nice clean carpet?" But a second later he did whistle and pat the arm of the chair, and the hellhounds got up and sat obediently around where he was lounging. Their heads came up higher than the arms of the chair. He was a bastard, but he had power.
"I didn't know you knew this stuff." She kept her eyes on him, searching his face and posture for some sign of what he'd been doing while she'd been unconscious. The whole humping her leg thing might have fooled some of the younger demons but she wasn't going to trust that Crowley just had sex on the brain when he could have gotten that from any of his henchpeople.
"There's a lot you don't know that I know," he said, and he stood and shook off his suit coat, folding it neatly and laying it over the arm of the chair. Undid his tie and draped it over the coat. Took off his belt. "You don't seem to mind."
Ruby kept quiet. It was hard to say just what he had in mind, apart from torturing her in old and interesting ways. Or maybe new and interesting ways. Crowley might not have much imagination with the hooks and the knives, but rumor had it that the way he could get inside your head and twist it all around was just spectacular. It was how he'd become the King of the Crossroads, after all. It made him almost appealing, even in this form. All right, especially in this form, this current body actually wasn't half bad.
And if she could just figure out what he was planning, she'd feel free to enjoy it a lot more.
"So, you're Lilith's errand bitch now." Conversational tone.
"Errand bitch?" Ruby's eyebrows shot up.
"Pet whore? Whatever you want to call yourself. Makes no difference to me." Unbuttoning a couple buttons on his shirt. Her eyes followed his fingers, then back up to his face. "Did she teach you how to make the knife, or was that your doing?"
She showed him her teeth. "Give me the ingredients and I'll show you up close and personal how it works, you slimy son of a ..."
He reached out with one hand, closing it around the air, and the air whooshed out of her lungs, throat constricting. Her body arched against its bonds all on its own, muscles creaked. That little knot moved. He let her go again, and she slumped.
"Manners," he oozed. Coming down to kneel beside her, one hand resting on her knee. Fingers trailing up the inside of her thigh, carrying wetness into slickness. "Lilith should have taught you better." He paused. "I think I would have enjoyed that."
"You're sick," she commented, but neither of them were either insulted or surprised. It wasn't even that sick as far as they were concerned. He still wasn't giving any sign of what he wanted. That concerned her somewhat more than the kinky sex games he wanted to play. Kinky sex games could be fun.
But if all he wanted was fun, he could have just asked. Sort of. Maybe asking would have spoiled the fun for both of them, on second thought.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Who does the knife kill?" His fingers kept moving upward, stopping just short of the rope, and when she didn't answer quickly enough for him they curled till she could feel the knuckles brushing through her curls and against her skin and her throat closed again. Gasping for breath made her toes curl and tingle. Spots flickered.
He let her go and she wheezed, unable to move or get a comfortable position. "You think..." she panted, body tensing. "You think... I'm going to tell you?"
"Oh, I know you're not. This is just for fun."
"Fuck you."
This time, she almost did black out. Her fingers and toes were going numb, her body was tingling. In a way that was more pleasant than not. Funny, how this had never been fun before, this whole business of her lungs burning with the need for oxygen. Either dry-drowning in fire or drowning in the ducking stool, it had never been fun. But this was getting her hot. A heat he most certainly could feel, given where his hand was. She had to be dripping, the darker blonde curls already dampened by the hellhound's breath now soaked and stinking of rotting meat and female arousal.
Hell, maybe this was why he did it. It turned him on, seeing her helpless. And now he knew it turned her on, too. Maybe it really was just about the sex. Except this wasn't the kind of sex you could get by agreeing to it beforehand. She'd been slumming it before, but never this dangerous.
"Get on with it already," she panted. "You bastard."
"You can do better than that."
Her eyes gleamed, somewhere between mischievous and impatiently irritated. "I'm not the one making promises and not living up to them."
He laughed, leaned in and his mouth was right against her neck, surprisingly soft lips and hot breath that smelled of brandy and chocolate when he squeezed her throat. Again, to the point of blacking out, and not further.
The bastard was doing it on purpose and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. He cut off her air and she gasped, everything going numb and the sensations making her arch, which made her bindings rub against her body. And then the breath flowed back into her and the awakening nerve endings tingling and pulsing and turning her on that way. He didn't even have to touch her and he would have her begging for it, she wanted to beg for it, she wanted to promise him anything if he would just keep the fucking incredible sensations going. Keep her at this height of stimulation.
When the words started falling from her lips she didn't notice. Too starved. She would beg and he would cut her off when he got tired of it and she would moan and then, at some point, the begging got to even him. Ruby felt the ropes fall away to the floor a second before he was on top of her, inside her. Hot and driving, no longer smiling, all snarls and fucking her hard and fast. She should have killed him or at least hurt him for that. Her nails scratched down his back as she clutched him as close as she could. Deeper. Harder.
He slowed down just at the end, when she could tell he was panting for it by how he moved. One hand slid up her body, cupped her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple. Cheap gestures. His hand moved up to her throat and she held her breath, waiting for it. "You'll give me what I want," he said, lips forming the words and barely more than that.
"Yes." She was too dazed to come up with anything more.
"Whenever I want it."
She couldn't think beyond the sex. Except for a small part of her which was sitting back, admiring and taking notes. Crowley, you bastard. "Yes."
"And in return, I'll give you those last ingredients." His lips curved up in a very, very sick smile. "And a little something else."
"Yes," she breathed, right before he squeezed.
"Good girl."
Somewhere between kiss and climax it occurred to her that he wasn't going to let up this time, but it didn't matter because the sensation was too fucking good, nerves firing all over her body as she heard him roar and felt him go and her body spasmed and then everything did go black.
There was a big wet spot on his carpet. He'd have to have that cleaned.
Crowley hummed a little tune as he picked up from his little escapade. Ropes, clothes, a pat to the hellhounds as he headed for the shower. They'd done well. Maybe next time he'd give them a little treat as a reward. Or maybe he'd keep on keeping her all for himself. She'd squirmed so nicely. He touched the ropes to his lips again, breathed in her scent.