[ He almost bites a harsh reminder that he doesn't need Crowley's help, but instead of chastising the demon, he practices what he's hoping to preach. Practiced in making do, he's able to shuffle around Crowley's hand, Blake's hardened cock a sure sign that he's at least somewhat of a sound enough mind to know what he's doing. Silence is the only answer that Crowley receives and he accentuates it by roughly pushing the other man's pants to the floor.
His hands quickly fumble with his belt and trousers and he knows this is wrong — this isn't the right way to deal with anything — but he's in no mood to stop himself, just as Crowley's in no mood to argue against it.
Halfway through his task, he shoves a hand at Crowley's shoulder, pressing him toward the corner junction of the counter, pushing him away, turning him around. ]
[ Or Blake can just show him. Crowley's used to his lack of verbosity as it is. This might be a new height to Blake's lack of words, but Crowley will take it.
Sex has always been the easiest way for Crowley to express his feelings to Blake, anyway, so he's hardly going to throw stones here. Blake pushes at him, directing with his hands, and Crowley goes where he's put, parts around his ankles as he turns and braces his hands on the counter top.
His breaths are coming more ragged now as he bends over for Blake. Maybe this isn't the most appropriate course of action, but it's clear they're on the same page here about it and that's what matters. ]
[ John's not interested in hesitating. He doesn't think about any half-sincere announcements over the network about wearing a condom or being careful about sex. He spits into the palm of his hand and rubs a mixture of too many bodily fluids on his dick, lost in the intensity of the moment and oddly focused.
He'd be better off if Crowley hadn't turned on the light, but in the stark brightness of the kitchen all he can think about is how he'll give Crowley blood if he wants it, though maybe not in the expected manner.
There's hardly a pause before he's pressing forward, finding no time for preparation, but expecting Crowley will come (quite literally) out the other side just fine. ]
[ Crowley's closer to human now than normal, but he's still not human. He can take a lot and he enjoys rough sex. This is hardly the first time there's been blood involved, either. Maybe this is what they both need right now.
He groans and braces himself, letting Blake set the pace. His breath is already getting rough as he bows his head. ]
[ There's no real finesse, none of the markers that suggest Blake's skilled in the bedroom. He doesn't spare moments for the details because he doesn't want to think about anything except— except nothing, and since that's not possible, he'll make this work.
Crowley gives him a lot by doing nothing at all, and before long John's head's dropped back and he's following an ever-increasing rhythm. His breath hitches with exertion, with each powerful thrust. By all rights, this shouldn't take long. ]
[ Crowley's breath hitches with each thrust until he's moaning. It's so good, even when it feels wrong like this, and he thinks he couldn't possibly want anyone else the way he wants Blake, because it's not about force or lust or blood, but something so human that it practically skips past humanity and moves onto something else. ]
Th-that's right. Come on.
[ He rocks back against Blake, afraid to move either of his hands to his cock and lose his balance. ]
[ It's not all that likely that Blake's going to offer a reach-around here, but he is spurred on by the demon's words. His breath turns almost ragged as he does what he's told and pushes through to the other side.
The release is like a dam breaking, like he's had blue balls for months. He grunts, the last several thrusts practically punishment in their own right. For several seconds he stands there, cock buried, motion stopped, hangs gripped tight, and he just breathes.
This might be what he needed, but John's not sure he feels any better. ]
[ Crowley's just at the edge when Blake finally finishes and with that he's able to move his hand down and it only takes a few strokes to push him over the edge, himself.
His knees buckle and he almost falls against the counter. With labored breaths, he wipes his hand on the counter--something to deal with later--and reaches back for Blake's thigh to squeeze it. Crowley's of the opinion that everyone needs a rough fuck sometimes. He's happy to supply Blake with a rough fuck if it keeps him out of a rough fight. ]
[ It's kept Blake out of this particular fight, but he's not as close to done with the tension in the pit of his stomach as he'd like to be. He releases Crowley a moment later and moves to collect up his pants. Silent. Maybe a bit ashamed he got so carried away.
Tugging up his trousers, he buttons them and leaves his belt hang. There's blood and glass and more mussing up his perfect kitchen, but John's head hangs low and he ignores it as he leans heavily against the island to catch his breath, fingers picking carelessly at the small pieces of glass still in his hand. ]
[ Crowley takes a moment to catch his breath before he turns around. ]
Will you at least let me get you tweezers for that?
[ He sounds admonishing as he reaches for his own pajama pants, pulling them back up and checking that his slippers are still secure before he steps back into the glass towards Blake. It's as if this has all been perfectly standard for him. ]
[ It's muttered and for whatever reason Blake feels it's appropriate to ignore Crowley's offer, even after all of this. He pushes off the counter and crunches back through the glass. Nevertheless, their fingers brush as he passes. ]
[ Of course, Crowley will clean this while Blake showers. He doesn't mind doing it and Blake deserves to be taken care of. It's the one thing Crowley knows for sure. ]
[ John can feel the water running against his feet, the lapping something he's only distantly aware of. It's cold, not unlike that of a mid-fall with its dewy grass and lingering moisture. It's more than enough to take him away, to lead him further adrift.
A cool morning. Fog has settled around the grounds and John, being an early riser, doesn't wait for the sun to burn it off before heading out for a jog. He's dressed down, comfortable in a hooded sweatshirt and shorts, aiming for a happy medium that will allow him a chance to circle the building as many times as necessary.
He's on his third trip around when an inky darkness presents itself along his path. Not sure what to expect, John slows to a halt, his breath coming in short puffs. When Crowley slithers from obscurity, Blake doesn't stop himself from rolling his eyes.
"And a pleasant morming to you, too," the demon counters, an eyebrow elegantly arched. Crowley wasn't expecting to see Blake, but it's never an opportunity missed if you've got nothing better to do.
The way he stands with his hands in his greatcoat has the effect of reminding Blake of a large bird, like a great raven, his feathers fluffed indignantly. They've been engaged in this dance — a back and forth where neither seem to gain or lose ground — and John imagines that it bugs Crowley quite a bit that he's not easy in any sense of the word. "Mornin'." Hesitant. What's the catch?
Crowley recognizes the look. He never seems to get a break when it comes to Blake. "You do this every morning?" Just a simple question, but he notices the tension between them increase immediately.
"Every morning, yeah."
"Jogging, jumping-jacks, squats?" He waves his hand dismissively.
John's jaw tightens and the anger burns white-hot just under the layer of his fog-cooled skin. It isn't even all that sexual, but something about the demon's approach always comes off as lascivious in nature. Fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides, he asks, "Didn't we agree to avoid each other?" After their last encounter, John had insisted upon some distance. Crowley hadn't wanted to agree, but sometimes keeping the peace is the most appropriate course of action.
"I couldn't have planned for this, darling. I've only just asked about the habit, haven't I?"
Blake looks skeptical, but Crowley spreads his arms as if to solidify his innocence and he realizes if he does anything other than offer the benefit of the doubt, then he's just letting paranoia get the best of him.
He makes a tsk sound and goes to push past Crowley, exiting the scene, but not before their fingers brush in a moment far too accidentally intimate to forget.
In the present, enough time's passed for a shower — for two showers, even — but Blake hasn't found the urge move. Naked and chilled, hand pressed to the wall adjacent to the shower head, he remains thinking about the flow of time and the way things invariably change, the water not even directed over his body as it should be.
He's powerless to it, isn't he? All of it. Powerless even more so when compared to the rest, and even with Crowley — Crowley, who's so willing to give up what power he's been allowed to keep here in Wonderland — there's little chance they'll ever come out on top. Not even with how hard they both fight. ]
[ Crowley makes quick work of sweeping the glass away, even checking the bottom of his slippers to make sure he's not going to track glass anywhere else. He checks Blake's path to the bathroom, too, before he starts to slip out of his clothes.
After what they've just done, he could use at least a thorough rinsing and, if he's truthful, he doesn't want to leave Blake alone for too long, either, so he slips into the shower behind Blake. ]
[ It's taken this long, but he's started to feel a bit more human. Noting Crowley's presence far later than he should, John reaches up and adjusts the temperature of the water to something a little warmer. ]
Not sure they're worth that much, even.
[ He feels raw and burdened, off-center in a way that's uncommon. Honestly, he can remember one other time feeling this shaky, and that had been after a considerable number of murders and one famous rooftop blowjob. ]
[ Crowley sighs and moves closer until he can wrap his arms around Blake and gather him closer. This is worth protecting. It will always be worth protecting, he reminds himself. No matter what future Wonderland brings them, he's going to stay right where he is with Blake. ]
[ Really, it's not so much the worth as the quality of the thoughts John's worried about. Leaning back against the comfort of his companion, he closes his eyes and allows the moment to feel justified, not like he's being selfish at all. ]
You always take good care of me.
[ How long has he been maintaining that now? Years, it seems. ]
I like taking care of you, you know. I want you to be safe and happy, as much as you can be in this place.
[ He lets the water wash over them and he just presses his face into Blake's wet skin. Everything he needs is right here in this apartment. Blake and the animals could make up his whole world and he thinks he would be happy. ]
And any other place we might wind up after we leave Wonderland. Together.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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His hands quickly fumble with his belt and trousers and he knows this is wrong — this isn't the right way to deal with anything — but he's in no mood to stop himself, just as Crowley's in no mood to argue against it.
Halfway through his task, he shoves a hand at Crowley's shoulder, pressing him toward the corner junction of the counter, pushing him away, turning him around. ]
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Sex has always been the easiest way for Crowley to express his feelings to Blake, anyway, so he's hardly going to throw stones here. Blake pushes at him, directing with his hands, and Crowley goes where he's put, parts around his ankles as he turns and braces his hands on the counter top.
His breaths are coming more ragged now as he bends over for Blake. Maybe this isn't the most appropriate course of action, but it's clear they're on the same page here about it and that's what matters. ]
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He'd be better off if Crowley hadn't turned on the light, but in the stark brightness of the kitchen all he can think about is how he'll give Crowley blood if he wants it, though maybe not in the expected manner.
There's hardly a pause before he's pressing forward, finding no time for preparation, but expecting Crowley will come (quite literally) out the other side just fine. ]
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He groans and braces himself, letting Blake set the pace. His breath is already getting rough as he bows his head. ]
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Crowley gives him a lot by doing nothing at all, and before long John's head's dropped back and he's following an ever-increasing rhythm. His breath hitches with exertion, with each powerful thrust. By all rights, this shouldn't take long. ]
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Th-that's right. Come on.
[ He rocks back against Blake, afraid to move either of his hands to his cock and lose his balance. ]
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The release is like a dam breaking, like he's had blue balls for months. He grunts, the last several thrusts practically punishment in their own right. For several seconds he stands there, cock buried, motion stopped, hangs gripped tight, and he just breathes.
This might be what he needed, but John's not sure he feels any better. ]
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His knees buckle and he almost falls against the counter. With labored breaths, he wipes his hand on the counter--something to deal with later--and reaches back for Blake's thigh to squeeze it. Crowley's of the opinion that everyone needs a rough fuck sometimes. He's happy to supply Blake with a rough fuck if it keeps him out of a rough fight. ]
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Tugging up his trousers, he buttons them and leaves his belt hang. There's blood and glass and more mussing up his perfect kitchen, but John's head hangs low and he ignores it as he leans heavily against the island to catch his breath, fingers picking carelessly at the small pieces of glass still in his hand. ]
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Will you at least let me get you tweezers for that?
[ He sounds admonishing as he reaches for his own pajama pants, pulling them back up and checking that his slippers are still secure before he steps back into the glass towards Blake. It's as if this has all been perfectly standard for him. ]
Come on, darling.
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[ It's muttered and for whatever reason Blake feels it's appropriate to ignore Crowley's offer, even after all of this. He pushes off the counter and crunches back through the glass. Nevertheless, their fingers brush as he passes. ]
I'll clean this up later.
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[ Of course, Crowley will clean this while Blake showers. He doesn't mind doing it and Blake deserves to be taken care of. It's the one thing Crowley knows for sure. ]
And then come join me in bed, yeah?
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He's powerless to it, isn't he? All of it. Powerless even more so when compared to the rest, and even with Crowley — Crowley, who's so willing to give up what power he's been allowed to keep here in Wonderland — there's little chance they'll ever come out on top. Not even with how hard they both fight. ]
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After what they've just done, he could use at least a thorough rinsing and, if he's truthful, he doesn't want to leave Blake alone for too long, either, so he slips into the shower behind Blake. ]
Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart?
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Not sure they're worth that much, even.
[ He feels raw and burdened, off-center in a way that's uncommon. Honestly, he can remember one other time feeling this shaky, and that had been after a considerable number of murders and one famous rooftop blowjob. ]
I'm glad you came.
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[ Crowley sighs and moves closer until he can wrap his arms around Blake and gather him closer. This is worth protecting. It will always be worth protecting, he reminds himself. No matter what future Wonderland brings them, he's going to stay right where he is with Blake. ]
Your thoughts are worth a lot more to me.
[ He leans in to kiss Blake's temple. ]
And I'll always come.
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You always take good care of me.
[ How long has he been maintaining that now? Years, it seems. ]
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[ He lets the water wash over them and he just presses his face into Blake's wet skin. Everything he needs is right here in this apartment. Blake and the animals could make up his whole world and he thinks he would be happy. ]
And any other place we might wind up after we leave Wonderland. Together.