[ Blake, if he were a cat, would probably look satisfied and ready to preen. Instead, he's a human that looks ruffled and horny and not done, but that is, indeed, the game they're playing, in some round-about way.

He doesn't suspect Crowley's a huge fan of headgames, but it does serve to prove some point, doesn't it? Some distant point about unfortunate manipulation. John's certain that if he can keep it up another week, he'd have Crowley completely wrapped about his finger. ]

Think you wanna get off. That you wanna make me get you off. That you've been thinkin' 'bout it for days...

[ He did say it was a multiple choice deal, didn't he? And he sounds husky and low, like his throat's ragged. Half of that's want (because he's punishing himself in a way, too).

He lifts up on to his knees again, resting his hands flat on Crowley's thighs. ]

An' I think you wanna know what I'm up to.

[ Those are all the options afforded for this moment and Blake figures they've all got bearing. ]