Entry tags:
porn
Crowley's exhausted. After the latest event, he's worn out and ready to get back to the status quo. He sends off a quick text to check in with Blake and collapses on his bed. He may not need to sleep, but that does't mean he doesn't like a good nap when he's tired and this is a sort of thing that he feels down to his bones.
Before he gets to his bed, he manages to peel off his pants and shirt, leaving him lying there in his underwear, undershirt and socks.
He has just enough wit about him to leave the door unlocked for Blake. At this point, he knows the dog will wake him if anyone else tries to get in, anyway.
Before he gets to his bed, he manages to peel off his pants and shirt, leaving him lying there in his underwear, undershirt and socks.
He has just enough wit about him to leave the door unlocked for Blake. At this point, he knows the dog will wake him if anyone else tries to get in, anyway.
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Slinking past Perdita, John steps out of his shoes and crawls on to the bed, stealthy and careful with each inch closer. He doesn't get a lot of chances to see Crowley asleep, and even less to see him in any extended state of undress outside of sex.
His fingers come down on Crowley's calf and with the lightest touch, he trails them along his leg as he settles more readily next to his sleeping form.
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In these past months, Blake's become a source of stability in a life that's constantly unbalancing. Whether in Wonderland or back home, everything is in danger of toppling, but this isn't. This might be his biggest vice.
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So, it's with that in mind that John will play up the guilty pleasure of a selfish streak, fanned full and granted by Crowley, and continue to explore the other man's body while well aware of the fact that he's less than conscious.
He kisses Crowley's shoulder, but it's barely a touch at all, pressure and persistence matching that of his lips. When he finds a hem his fingertips follow it in a back and forth along Crowley's thigh.
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Blake is different, of course, the only man to ever bother to prove himself to Crowley and, really, the only one to give Crowley a chance to be something more than what he's always been. Crowley falls short more often than Blake might like, but there are still successes in there--little things that show that he has changed, even if it's in the smaller things.
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John's hand moves over the fabric of that underwear, skirting gently over Crowley's cock on its way up the other man's body. He'll just have to continue with this careful contact as long as he can, intent and focused but horny all the same.
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A nameless form moves over him, pushing him back into a bed and climbing over him. In his dream, his hands slide up their thighs, but in reality it translates to a hand twitching towards Blake. His fingers slip over Blake's pants, gentle and aimless.
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Moving deftly, he crawls that touch over the undershirt and back down over his underwear, careful to avoid interference. Maybe he's curious, maybe he's cruel, but either way, he's enjoying himself while enjoying the demon and he doesn't appear to be stopping.
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It's certainly a tease, but not an unwelcome one. Crowley's always been a fan on drawing things out when it's appropriate and while he's used to being in control most of the time with these things, he's most capable of enjoying this from either end of things.
In his sleep, his breath quickens just the tiniest bit as he scratches nails gently down Blake's thigh.
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This isn't typically John's game — he much prefers something hot and passionate and instant — but he enjoys the occasional diversion. Blake lets out a low, quiet moan not far from Crowley's ear.
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Absently, his hand shifts to Blake's inner thigh, possessive even in sleep.
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"Must be a good dream," he coos, quiet and pleasant, lips kissing in a barely-there pattern along his pulse point.
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His mind so easily fills in the blanks that Blake is feeding him and it's no small coincidence that Blake fits into these sort of blanks more easily than most.
The rise and fall of his chest is more pronounced as his body reacts to Blake, blood slowly pooling downwards.
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At one time he wouldn't have felt comfortable to take on this sort of task, but time's been good for the both of them, and for once, Crowley's convinced Blake to be a little selfish with his own sexual wants. It's not just a trust thing anymore, either, but neither are the type to admit that sort of thing.
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Everything about this is familiar, from the feel to the smell of Blake and arousal hanging in the air around them and his dream carries on quite closely to the reality.
His head tips to the side, lips parting. Oh, he needs this quite desperately. He can't seem to get enough of Blake and he's not sure that he ever will. There's something so horribly intoxicating about the man.
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His hand snakes beneath the band of the demon's pants and he presses his palm against the shaft of Crowley's penis, the tips of his fingers curling around the head. He doesn't quite know what he'll do next, so he spends his time lingering on that caress while his breath comes hot and heavy against Crowley's shoulder. Unable to keep himself from nipping, he bites at the line of muscles stretching the expanse between the curve of the neck and the ball of the shoulder. His whole body ablaze with want, but he doesn't quite want Crowley waking up yet.
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His hands slide down from Blake's thighs to the bed, slipping over the sheets before he starts to grip at them.
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John rolls his thumb over the head of Crowley's dick and then lets go in favor of pulling away the fabric of his clothing, his aim to loose the other man completely from the confines of his pants.
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Perhaps this will be a lesson in leaving himself so vulnerable and open to Blake, but then it's not the most unpleasant of lessons to learn.
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For now, he just takes the whimpering to mean good things and focuses on Crowley's clear desire (by way of his own). In one long, long lick, he draws his tongue over the length of the demon's penis, from balls to tip, like he's indulging in some kind of dessert.