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Fair Trade
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super_seme04 for her much greater understanding of Crowley's badassitude <3
And how exactly does one go about crossposting a threesome?
Fair Trade
R | Dean/Castiel/Crowley (mostly Dean/Castiel, Crowley’s just awesome) | ~940 words
Nothing comes free. (Also, Crowley’s a pimp.)
Kiss - Experimental: Threeway. My Card.
The fact that asking for Crowley’s help makes Dean so uncomfortable is really only icing on the cake. Dean’s shoulders are tight and stabby, his hands shoved carefully in his pockets and away from the knife at his belt. Castiel, standing behind him, is showing no such reservation.
“You two don’t look happy to see me.”
“Bite me,” Dean snaps.
“I’m not sure you’d like that, love,” Crowley says. Having the upper hand to a Winchester is the most fun he’s had in years.
Dean glares at Crowley like he’d like to set him on fire. “Very funny.”
“As much as I’m enjoying this, boys, there are other things I need to do this century. D’you think you could speed it up?”
“You know why we’re here,” Castiel says. If he could smite Crowley right now, he probably would.
“I just love to hear you say it.”
Dean and his angel share a look.
Now there’s something Crowley can work with.
“We heard you’ve got information on the Big Guy,” Dean snarls.
Castiel frowns. Pop culture is beyond most angels, in Crowley’s experience. “Where is my Father?”
“Nothing’s free, boys,” Crowley says.
Dean looks like he’s going to fight, but Castiel’s hand on his shoulder steadies him.“What do you want?” Dean asks.
“A kiss,” Crowley says.
“Oh hell no,” Dean says, instantly. “I am not kissing you.”
Castiel sighs, like he expected to be smooching a demon. Crowley waits for various shades of guilt and jealousy to move over Dean’s face before he finishes.
“I never said anything about kissing me.”
It’s completely silent for a second, as Dean’s face goes blank and Castiel’s goes stony. They don’t look at each other. “You’re crazy,” Dean says.
“You need my help.”
They don’t have anything clever to say about that.
“Get to it, boys,” Crowley says.
Castiel is the first to move, taking a hesitant step towards Dean. His hand catches the hunter’s wrist and he’s obviously trying to communicate something, but Dean won’t meet his eyes. Crowley licks his lip as Castiel pulls Dean closer, tilting his head up. This is just too good.
He’s seen this a lot of times, and, honestly, the only people who hesitate are the ones that make it really good. Castiel looks like he’s trying to hide Dean’s face with his hand, but Crowley still sees their last look before they finally kiss.
It’s their first, they haven’t figured out their angles yet and their noses bump, and Dean’s eyes flicker open to see that Castiel’s never closed all the way. Crowley tucks his hands into his pockets, pleased. They stay perfectly still, and, if Crowley’s not mistaken, Dean’s actually shaking with the effort. Crowley lets them hold it, waiting for the morons to give in, but they don’t.
“I said a kiss,” he says. “Not a peck.”
Dean pulls back just enough to give him the stink eye.
“You’re wasting my time,” Crowley reminds him. He taps his watch and doesn’t bother to stop smiling.
Dean opens his mouth, probably to call the whole thing off, and Castiel leans forward, murmurs something in his ear. It’s must be pretty damn convincing, because Dean shuts up and wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, but only a Winchester could make it look like a chore.
It’s easy to hammer the final nail into their gay inter-species love coffin. “Or I could do it.”
One of them, Crowley’s money’s on Castiel, makes a sound oddly like a growl and then they’re kissing, like grown ups this time; Castiel’s hands fisted in the front of Dean’s shirt and Dean holding on to Castiel like he’s never letting go.
Honestly, it’s choking Crowley up a bit. If he had a heart there might even be tears and group hugs.
Crowley takes a step closer, not that Dean or Castiel notice, and watches. Dean’s face is oddly relaxed, like this is letting go for him; and Castiel looks like he’s concentrating on not breaking Dean’s jaw. After a second of thought, Crowley figures that Castiel would be easier to pull away, since he’s putting so much thought into being gentle. Might as well give him something to bite onto.
He waits for Dean to draw a breath, slides his fingers down the back of Castiel’s neck, finds his tie and pulls, drawing Castiel away from his human and spinning him around.
“I just want a taste, angel,” Crowley hisses, and he’s more than a little surprised when Castiel obliges, crashing into Crowley with such force that he thinks he misjudged for a second and got his arse smote. All the softness and restraint Castiel gave to Dean is gone, and he kisses Crowley more with his teeth than his lips; trying to burn Crowley up.
Dean says something protesting, but Crowley has more important things to worry about, like how slick Castiel’s mouth is and how sharp his teeth are. It takes tremendous effort for every taste, but it is damn worth it.
And, unless Dean’s anatomy is slightly more interesting than Crowley thought it was, there’s a knife blade pressing into his side.
“Let go,” Dean snarls, leaning forward to whisper in Crowley’s ear. Crowley fists one hand into the front of Dean’s shirt, finding the fingernail tears Castiel left behind, and pulls him forward, and Castiel, half crazed at this point -- only to be expected from a two thousand year old virgin -- lets him move Dean to where they can lick into his mouth, a single human assaulted by an angel and a demon. He never stood a chance.
Dean drops his knife.
~
super_seme04 for her much greater understanding of Crowley's badassitude <3And how exactly does one go about crossposting a threesome?
Fair Trade
R | Dean/Castiel/Crowley (mostly Dean/Castiel, Crowley’s just awesome) | ~940 words
Nothing comes free. (Also, Crowley’s a pimp.)
Kiss - Experimental: Threeway. My Card.
The fact that asking for Crowley’s help makes Dean so uncomfortable is really only icing on the cake. Dean’s shoulders are tight and stabby, his hands shoved carefully in his pockets and away from the knife at his belt. Castiel, standing behind him, is showing no such reservation.
“You two don’t look happy to see me.”
“Bite me,” Dean snaps.
“I’m not sure you’d like that, love,” Crowley says. Having the upper hand to a Winchester is the most fun he’s had in years.
Dean glares at Crowley like he’d like to set him on fire. “Very funny.”
“As much as I’m enjoying this, boys, there are other things I need to do this century. D’you think you could speed it up?”
“You know why we’re here,” Castiel says. If he could smite Crowley right now, he probably would.
“I just love to hear you say it.”
Dean and his angel share a look.
Now there’s something Crowley can work with.
“We heard you’ve got information on the Big Guy,” Dean snarls.
Castiel frowns. Pop culture is beyond most angels, in Crowley’s experience. “Where is my Father?”
“Nothing’s free, boys,” Crowley says.
Dean looks like he’s going to fight, but Castiel’s hand on his shoulder steadies him.“What do you want?” Dean asks.
“A kiss,” Crowley says.
“Oh hell no,” Dean says, instantly. “I am not kissing you.”
Castiel sighs, like he expected to be smooching a demon. Crowley waits for various shades of guilt and jealousy to move over Dean’s face before he finishes.
“I never said anything about kissing me.”
It’s completely silent for a second, as Dean’s face goes blank and Castiel’s goes stony. They don’t look at each other. “You’re crazy,” Dean says.
“You need my help.”
They don’t have anything clever to say about that.
“Get to it, boys,” Crowley says.
Castiel is the first to move, taking a hesitant step towards Dean. His hand catches the hunter’s wrist and he’s obviously trying to communicate something, but Dean won’t meet his eyes. Crowley licks his lip as Castiel pulls Dean closer, tilting his head up. This is just too good.
He’s seen this a lot of times, and, honestly, the only people who hesitate are the ones that make it really good. Castiel looks like he’s trying to hide Dean’s face with his hand, but Crowley still sees their last look before they finally kiss.
It’s their first, they haven’t figured out their angles yet and their noses bump, and Dean’s eyes flicker open to see that Castiel’s never closed all the way. Crowley tucks his hands into his pockets, pleased. They stay perfectly still, and, if Crowley’s not mistaken, Dean’s actually shaking with the effort. Crowley lets them hold it, waiting for the morons to give in, but they don’t.
“I said a kiss,” he says. “Not a peck.”
Dean pulls back just enough to give him the stink eye.
“You’re wasting my time,” Crowley reminds him. He taps his watch and doesn’t bother to stop smiling.
Dean opens his mouth, probably to call the whole thing off, and Castiel leans forward, murmurs something in his ear. It’s must be pretty damn convincing, because Dean shuts up and wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, but only a Winchester could make it look like a chore.
It’s easy to hammer the final nail into their gay inter-species love coffin. “Or I could do it.”
One of them, Crowley’s money’s on Castiel, makes a sound oddly like a growl and then they’re kissing, like grown ups this time; Castiel’s hands fisted in the front of Dean’s shirt and Dean holding on to Castiel like he’s never letting go.
Honestly, it’s choking Crowley up a bit. If he had a heart there might even be tears and group hugs.
Crowley takes a step closer, not that Dean or Castiel notice, and watches. Dean’s face is oddly relaxed, like this is letting go for him; and Castiel looks like he’s concentrating on not breaking Dean’s jaw. After a second of thought, Crowley figures that Castiel would be easier to pull away, since he’s putting so much thought into being gentle. Might as well give him something to bite onto.
He waits for Dean to draw a breath, slides his fingers down the back of Castiel’s neck, finds his tie and pulls, drawing Castiel away from his human and spinning him around.
“I just want a taste, angel,” Crowley hisses, and he’s more than a little surprised when Castiel obliges, crashing into Crowley with such force that he thinks he misjudged for a second and got his arse smote. All the softness and restraint Castiel gave to Dean is gone, and he kisses Crowley more with his teeth than his lips; trying to burn Crowley up.
Dean says something protesting, but Crowley has more important things to worry about, like how slick Castiel’s mouth is and how sharp his teeth are. It takes tremendous effort for every taste, but it is damn worth it.
And, unless Dean’s anatomy is slightly more interesting than Crowley thought it was, there’s a knife blade pressing into his side.
“Let go,” Dean snarls, leaning forward to whisper in Crowley’s ear. Crowley fists one hand into the front of Dean’s shirt, finding the fingernail tears Castiel left behind, and pulls him forward, and Castiel, half crazed at this point -- only to be expected from a two thousand year old virgin -- lets him move Dean to where they can lick into his mouth, a single human assaulted by an angel and a demon. He never stood a chance.
Dean drops his knife.
~