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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.

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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.

They've never been shy about this sort of thing, not really. It's become a good give and take between them, with each pushing a bit more every time they get together. It's not violent or unstable, but surprisingly steady, like a careful ascent.

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.

Blake's moan is no foreign sound to Crowley. Really, any sound like that could give a man ideas, but Blake's is especially familiar and grounding in this moment, giving his dream a nice direction as the figure above him transforms into someone warm and welcome.

Absently, his hand shifts to Blake's inner thigh, possessive even in sleep.

It's pretty amazing to think the guy's still asleep and every bit as active as usual despite that. John allows his hand to go exploring because he's busy enough pulling aside Crowley's undershirt for better access to his neck. At the moment, he's basically straddling the demon, anyway, so he figures he ought to give the guy a little in return.

"Must be a good dream," he coos, quiet and pleasant, lips kissing in a barely-there pattern along his pulse point.

Crowley is an admittedly sexual creature. He's not so lead by his dick that he makes all decisions by it, but he does find that there's a sexual edge to much of his thoughts and he's rarely one to pass up an opportunity for debauchery.

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.

It's no surprise Crowley's enjoying this, though the fact that he's continue to sleep through Blake's touch is something of a treat. Horny in his own right, it only spurs him on to rub his own hard cock against Crowley's growing erection.

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.

That Crowley trusts Blake almost implicitly is quite clear. There are things he keeps to himself, but not for a worry that Blake would stab him in the back. No, there's something more selfish behind most of those--a want to keep Blake safe.

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.

Ah, Jesus, as if the feeling isn't mutual? Blake feels drunk with power and desire as he gently and carefully manipulates the man beneath him. Whatever the dream, Crowley's definitely feeling and responding to John's approach.

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.

Crowley is stirring under the surface, somewhere between full asleep and awake and so easily manipulated under Blake's attention. In sleep, he's far less controlled in his movements, hips rolling up against Blake with a quiet moan.

His hands slide down from Blake's thighs to the bed, slipping over the sheets before he starts to grip at them.

Even something as simple as that is enough to get Blake groaning again. He's in a strange enough mood and with Crowley somewhat unaware of his actions, it feels like icing on the proverbial cake. He can't help but enjoy the fact that he can elicit such a strong reaction from someone as powerful as this demon.

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.

Awake, Crowley might have been able to hold back the whimper when Blake pulls away, but he doesn't quite manage like this and Blake's lack of attention after that has Crowley shifting restlessly beneath him as he works on Crowley's pants.

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.

Ah, but Crowley, haven't you managed to catch on yet? Over time, John Blake has been slowing chipping away at your defenses, and you might not know it, but he's long-since found your vulnerable areas. It's a credit to Crowley, though, that Blake doesn't need to use that knowledge against him... yet.

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.

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