Ask your King

It's me, darlings, His Infernal Majesty, Crowley, your King. Don't be shy. Ask away.

[blewinonaleaf]

[crowley-is-your-king]

blewinonaleaf:

Clara was glad for this talk with him, it was pulling her mind away from what happened. Sure, later when she went to sleep it would all go to Hell, but right now it felt good to get her mind off it. “Wow, I’m actually a first for the King?” She asked, mischief dancing in her eyes. She’d fully been expecting a smack after she’d hit him first, but he never touched her. “I never said thank you. For what you did to that man, so thank you.” She said, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Crowley waved a hand, dismissing the thanks.  "He... challenged me; he deserved to die.  That's the way of it."  There was no way he was going to admit to the residual feelings the use of his oft-ignored Grace had brought up in him.  Yes, that demon had defied him, challenged him, touched what was his; but that wasn't exactly why Crowley had been so vicious in his punishment.  The urge to protect had been uppermost in Crowley's mind when he'd been tearing the little pissant into pieces, and that was something Crowley blamed squarely on his long-repressed angelic nature.  And it would take a while for that nature to fully subside, which was something he blamed on Clara.  "Well."  For the first time in a long time, he scrambled for something to say.  "Cup of tea?"

[crowley-is-your-king]

...Wait. Loki's a muse now? Hello, trickster. And how's the angel doing?

"That bastard's always been here.  And it's nice to see you, Moose."

["Bastard..?  I think my feelings are hurt."]

"Oh, go back to shagging Gabriel like a good boy."

["Gabriel and I are just friends, and I'll thank you to remember that."]

"Just friends?"  *sniggers*  "If you say so, Loki."

["I could always bring him into this conversation and ask his opinion..."]

*theatrically shudders*  "No, thanks all the same.  Why can't you bastards get your own blog..?"

["But it's so much more fun to play with you, my darling King."]

"That's it.  This proves that there is no God."

[*wicked laughter*  "And in answer to your question, my dear, Gabriel is doing just fine."]

[crowley-is-your-king]

((So.  We're back, I guess.))

((What did you want, fireworks?  76 bloody trombones?))

"My.  Aren't we testy today..?  Does it have to do with-"

((No.  Shut up.  It has to do with the fact I just had to wade through smut to catch up - the character who lives inside my head has a better sex life than I do..!))

"I'm not sleeping with all our RP partners."

((Right.  And on that note, they'recompletelymesmerized and favoritehumanofthefae, I can't find our threads - wanna send me a URL so I can catch up?))

*pats the mun patronizingly on the head*  "There, there, love, it's just another birthday."

((*speaks to the ceiling*  I wonder what would happen if I teamed up with my other muses and had you drawn and quartered..?  I think that would be fun.  And I know Gabriel and Loki would be more than willing to help.))

"Ooh, threats..."

((*screams quietly*))

[carriageofaerietails]

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[ysabeautheunaligned-deactivated]

[ysabeautheunaligned-deactivated]

She was silent, for the first time in a very long time Ysabeau was just totally silent. She wasn’t thinking, she was just laying there in Crowley’s arms, catching her breath. Crowley! Bo wouldn’t have believed it if someone had said it a few weeks ago, but now all she wanted to do was prolong the feeling of his arm around her body, and the feel of his skin beneath her cheek as she let her eyes close. Peaceful, and nearly perfect… these were not words that Ysabeau would have expected to describe this moment.

[crowley-is-your-king]

Crowley supposed he should say something; some off-hand remark that would have Ysabeau turning cold and furious eyes to him even as she left the bed and scrambled for her clothing.  But, for the first time in a very, very long time, Crowley felt... content.  No schemes were spinning through his head, no plans...  There was nothing more than how good it felt to lie still and feel Ysabeau's breath against his naked chest.

[blewinonaleaf]

[blewinonaleaf]

Clara laughed lightly. “Yeah I’d think so.” She said with a small smile. She got a little serious. “Thanks for last night..I mean even after I hit you in the face.” She added, looking up at him, brown eyes glittering with a mischievous smile. “I’m guessing not many people can say they punched the King of Hell in the face.” She cocked a brow, smirk curling at her lips. “Or is that a normal occurrence?” She asked with feigned sweetness.

[crowley-is-your-king]

It was also interesting to see a smirk on her face and a twinkle in her eye, obviously Clara wasn't that traumatized.  Then Crowley mentally smacked himself; how was he to know exactly what was going on in her head..?  "Oh, I guess you could say there's a fair number who'd like to smack me one."  He put a roguishly charming smile on his face.  "But none who I wouldn't smack back.  Until now, that is."  Hostage, she's just a hostage, dammit! Crowley snarled at himself.  A means to an end!  And that end is to get my hands on the TARDIS!

[pie-of-thetiger]

The King and His Knight

[pie-of-thetiger]

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[pie-of-thetiger]

Crowley watched Dean's eyes flick open, and they were black; black as a moonless night. "A fairy tale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face," he mused aloud. - crowley-is-your-king

Dean awoke confused. The last thing he remembered was being stabbed by Metatron. He could still feel shape of the angel blade piercing his skin, the blade shoving through his torso. It took him a second to register a familiar voice near him.

"Crowley?"

[pie-of-thetiger]

Dean simply nodded in agreement with Crowley’s statement. He had never felt this kind of power before, this kind of freedom. It seemed like since he was born, his life was predetermined for him and in a way, it really was. Maybe all of that was just his back story, he thought as his finger traced the rim of the now empty glass in front of him. Maybe all of that was just to lead to this; his new beginning. “I’m free.”

[crowley-is-your-king]

Crowley waited for a moment to see if Dean would summon the bartender; when he didn't, the King of Hell reached out and grasped the bottle with his free hand, pouring a measure into Dean's empty glass.  The bottle returned to the bar, and Crowley lifted his own tumbler in salute.  "Here's to freedom," he said, a roguish twist to his lips.  "May it bring you everything you desire."  The smile became a grin.  "And every one."

[blewinonaleaf]

[blewinonaleaf]

Clara just gave him a look with those big brown eyes of hers that said ‘yeah right’. She shrugged, giving him a small smile. “Better, I feel better actually. I mean I’m not completely over it of course, but I’m not just dwelling on what happened.” She said softly, looking up at him. “Do I sound completely mad?” She asked curiously.

[crowley-is-your-king]

"Not to me; but I'm not a psychiatrist," Crowley replied with a one shouldered shrug.  Interestingly, she'd not moved away from him after she'd woken; Clara was still in fairly close proximity to him, considering the size of the bed.  "I think that anything that helps is..."  Crowley gave a dry smile and a slight chuckle.  "Well, helpful."

[carriageofaerietails]

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[ysabeautheunaligned-deactivated]

[ysabeautheunaligned-deactivated]

Despite it being out of character for herself, Bo turned onto her side and snuggled up closer to Crowley. She;d instantly felt a lacking when he’d moved. His body no longer warming hers… that’s what she’d blame it on. It took a moment to realize she’d rested her head on his chest, the moment feeling far too surreal. There was a peacefulness to laying there after that particularly intense round of sex, surrounded by quiet. It was oddly… comforting.

[crowley-is-your-king]

To Crowley's surprise, Ysabeau leaned in against him and rested her head on his chest.  He could feel the rapid beat of her heart and her warm breath against his skin; it felt...  Well.  It actually felt quite pleasant.  Hesitantly, Crowley lifted a hand to stroke her hair, a motion that ended with his arm around her, holding her close to his body.  It was so very strange, but it felt right, to just lie here and hold... his wife.

[pie-of-thetiger]

The King and His Knight

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[pie-of-thetiger]

Crowley watched Dean's eyes flick open, and they were black; black as a moonless night. "A fairy tale with a happy ending always brings a smile to my face," he mused aloud. - crowley-is-your-king

Dean awoke confused. The last thing he remembered was being stabbed by Metatron. He could still feel shape of the angel blade piercing his skin, the blade shoving through his torso. It took him a second to register a familiar voice near him.

"Crowley?"

[pie-of-thetiger]

Dean had just set down his glass when he heard Crowley ask him the question. An eyebrow was raised in confusion as Dean blankly stared at him. He took a moment to think it over, following Crowley’s gaze to the bartender that was serving someone else at the moment. Tilting his head, Dean’s thoughts began to wonder. The guy looked young, almost as if he was just old enough to be a bartender, just some kid starting out in life. Probably wouldn’t be missed by many if he was to disappear. It would be easy to, well, to do anything to him really. His expression darkened as his thoughts did, eyes growing intense. Dean had that power now, to the point where no one would question his actions. Thinking these things felt right, it felt normal to him. There wasn’t good or bad anymore, there was only what he wanted. And anything the wanted, he was going to get. “He’s a toy.” Dean replied, answer simple and tone serious as he continued to look the bartender over.

[crowley-is-your-king]

"Yes," Crowley said, just as simply.  "They all are."  He made a subtle gesture around the room with his free hand.  "Yours to play with; yours to break, if you want to.  If you choose to."  The King took another sip of scotch, studying the new-made Knight out of the corner of his eye.  Dean really does have pretty eyes, Crowley found himself musing before he squashed the thought and shifted on his bar stool.

[ysabeautheunaligned-deactivated]

[ysabeautheunaligned-deactivated]

Bo hummed in pleasure as she slanted her lips over his, kissing him deeply as she took a deep breath of his energy. It was strong, and heady. Just like her king (later Ysabeau would wonder when she’d begun to think of him like that). There was a hint of sulfur, and a taste of Glencraig, there’s a small hint of cigar smoke as well that made her groan deeply. There was a shock of pleasure that went through her, as she came the moment his energy slipped into her body, her body tensing around his as she called out his name to the darkness.

[crowley-is-your-king]

Ysabeau cried his name as she climaxed; the combination of that and the sensation of her internal muscles clamping around his shaft drove Crowley over the edge.  His own body stiffened and shuddered, white stars exploding across his vision as he came, harder than he ever had before in his long, long life.  After what seemed like an eternity, Crowley slumped, managing to throw his body to the side so he didn't crush Ysabeau as he lay as still as a corpse, eyes half closed and a fine trembling running through his entire body.

[blewinonaleaf]

[blewinonaleaf]

Clara slept soundly through the rest of the night curled up against his arm as she held it close. She slowly stirred awake the next morning, big brown eyes fluttering open. She was warm, but it was a nice warm. Somehow the fire was still going, and she realized how close to him she was. She slowly sat up, pushing her sleep mussed hair from her eyes. “Tell me something, did I really hit you in the face last night, or was that just a dream?” She asked, her voice still sleepy, but just a hint of the old Clara shone through with the cheeky sass in the question.

[crowley-is-your-king]

"Yes, you hit me," Crowley replied with just the right hint of gravity, even as his eyes twinkled.  "Consider yourself lucky I didn't hit back."  His eyes narrowed for a split second as he checked her aura again.  "How...  How are you feeling?" he asked.

[ysabeautheunaligned-deactivated]

[ysabeautheunaligned-deactivated]

Bo’s body clutched to his as his finger sped her towards her climax, a small whimper leaving her lips as her body tensed, and her eyes shimmered to a bright blue. God she wanted him, she needed to taste him, she wanted to feel his sexual prowess slipping down her throat as she rode out her orgasm. Softly she whimpered a small “please…” a request to allow it of her, despite the fact that she was so close… so so close that she really was amazed that she;d managed to not feed on him yet.

[crowley-is-your-king]

Her eyes lit up, burning bright blue as Ysabeau's body tensed.  Crowley could feel her desire, her need to feed from him.  Part of him snarled that he was the King of Hell, not some succubus' lunch; while another part thought it a good idea - if Ysabeau fed from him, it meant he didn't have to share.  And she would heal from his rough handling, meaning that they could go again that much sooner.  So, with only a hint of unease, Crowley muttered a single word before he pressed his mouth to hers again.  "Feed."

[blewinonaleaf]

[blewinonaleaf]

Clara could faintly feel the shift of the bed and she could feel him sitting next to her. If it was anyone else she would have freaked out. It was odd to say but she trusted him not to hurt her. She shifted, her hand still holding his, her other arm wrapping around his as she cuddled up to his arm. She’d always been someone who liked to curl up against anything while she slept. This was more for comfort and security, just as much as it was natural for her to do while she slept.

[crowley-is-your-king]

An irritated frown curved the King's brow for a moment when Clara cuddled around his arm, but it smoothed out after he allowed himself to consider the benefits.  Stockholm syndrome could be a useful, handy tool in this situation.  For some reason, she apparently now considered him safe.  And she was warm and smelled nice, so it wasn't all bad.  Crowley relaxed against the head board, crossing his socked feet at the ankle as he looked down at the sleeping woman.  A possessive look crossed his face for a moment, and he allowed his lips to curve in a slight smile.  Mine.