(no subject)

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Date: March 25, 2001
Setting: John's Bedroom
Status: Private- Crowley, John, Kit
Summary: Crowley has a nightmare




Hands.

Large and bloodied.

Gripping, tearing.

Claws.

Sharp and sinister.

Shredding, slicing.

Pain.

Crowley awoke in a cold sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead, breathing heavily. Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, he tried to push the images - memories - out. He wasn't going to get much sleep tonight.

With a groan, the demon rolled out of bed, throwing on his trousers and a white collared shirt, but not bothering to tuck it in or even button it all the way. Hair tousled, eyes uncovered, and feet bare, he padded through the bathroom toward the only person who could help right now. He pushed open the door.

"John?"

Comments

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

No doubt about it: Crowley had the worst timing in the history of the Universe.

John wasn't quite sure how they'd wound up in this situation--there'd been a lot of Glenlivet involved, and no small amount of Guinness, and between one thing and another, without really intending to, they'd managed to wind up on top of the table rather than under it. One of them (didn't matter much which) had had the presence of mind to suggest taking things upstairs. He was of no mind to analyze things any further than that. More important things to attend to.

His hands and his full attention were occupied with getting a complicated piece of feminine under-gear unlatched (which probably would have been easier if he'd dispensed with Kit's blouse first, and maybe turned her around so he could see the damn things; but he'd always been notorious for doing things the hard way, and anyway that would have meant he'd have to stop kissing her,) when the plaintive sound of Crowley's voice cut through the haze of alcohol and testosterone.

John broke away from Kit's mouth with a vile expletive--even a best mate could only get away with so much--and turned a pointed glare at his interloping friend, but it softened to a worried frown when he got an eyeful of Crowley's rumpled, woebegone state. "Crowley. What's the matter, mate?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley's first thought upon noticing that John had company, was 'oh shit, my eyes'. He blinked quickly. When he opened them again, they were a soft, pale, almost otherworldly grey. He could keep them that way for an hour or so.

His second thought - forgive his sleep-addled mind - was 'woman'. It took a second for two sets of memories to align and put a name to the, well, not the face, but definitely the side of the head. That long, curly, black hair had to belong to Kit. Not that he'd seen her much since the day she arrived. Nor John for that matter. It seemed they had been busy...

The demon's third thought was 'sex'. And he had to stop a moment to figure out why. Oh, right. That might be why John had his hand up her shirt and was missing his own. Tie was still there, though. That got a ghost of a smile. But while Crowley wasn't remotely embarrassed to have walked in on them, he did respect John enough to leave the man some privacy.

So he just said, "Nightmare. Don't worry about it." And turned to go.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

"Crowley, you - shite," Kit muttered, making a few crucial adjustments to her blouse when her attempt to hide behind a bare-chested John didn't work out as discretely as she'd hoped. "You don' have to - I mean, this isn't..."

She ran into some trouble with that statement, as she didn't in fact know what this was -- or wasn't -- except perhaps the result of too much Guinness and more scotch than she'd consumed in ages. But she wasn't drunk enough to miss the troubled look on the disheveled man's face, or to realize that John would be beating himself up later if he let a mate leave looking like that.

"You don't have to go."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John turned and blinked at Kit in surprise. Now that he hadn't been expecting, and for a moment he couldn't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed. There was a very insistent part of him that wanted Crowley to clear the fuck out and talk about his sodding nightmares later, and it wanted Kit to want the same thing.

But something like two months had passed since the unscheduled trip to Hell, and Crowley had been acting withdrawn and standoffish ever since, leading John to wonder privately just what exactly had been done to his friend and whether he was actually going to recover. His showing up like this probably constituted some kind of breakthrough, John realized. But the sodding timing--!

He fervently hoped that his friendship with Crowley wasn't going to collide on a regular basis with...whatever-the-hell-this-was with Kit. He didn't think his nerves would take it.

Shaking his head to try to clear out the clouds, he turned back to Crowley and added, "Yeah, 's okay. I know from nightmares. 'zit that thing that happened a coupla months back?" He didn't dare be more specific in front of Kit.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"Crowley, you shite." Well, that was true enough. Which was why her next words were so puzzling. What kind of woman would stop what appeared to be an alcohol-fueled lust session to invite a depressed third-party to stick around? And what kind of man would agree?

With a quick glance at Kit, he nodded. "Yeah. But it's not..."

See, the problem with being an ancient tempter was that Crowley knew full well how to manipulate people, especially the ones he cared for the most, since he knew them best. He knew exactly where their buttons were. And, being what he was, he couldn't not act on that information - or at least not without significant effort - nor did he see a reason why he shouldn't. It seemed to be a win-win proposition. Crowley got to tempt, but it wouldn't hurt either of the others, and he'd get the comfort he wanted. John and Kit got to help someone, which had to give them brownie points somewhere, and they could always have sex later if it still seemed like a good idea. And if it didn't, well, he'd have saved John from making a mistake and still look like a bastard. It all worked.

Crowley processed this quickly and let his shoulders fall ever so slightly. Looking faintly vulnerable and shivering a bit in the cool night air - it was all about subtlety, John would see through anything more in half a second - he chose his words carefully, trying to keep his normal 'casual tough' tone so that John could see past it.

"It's not a big deal. I didn't mean to interrupt."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John was drunk and distracted enough to fall for it without question, but his reaction would have been the same in any case. Crowley was deceiving himself more than anybody else; how he went about trying to get what he wanted was less significant than the fact that he was trying.

Moving away from Kit wasn't easy--his entire body was fairly vibrating with her nearness, her tantalizing warmth--but he got up resolutely and went to the wardrobe, rummaging out a spare blanket. "Like muck it isn't," he retorted. "You're shaking. Here..." Under other circumstances he might have just tossed it Crowley's way, but he had no idea how the skittish demon would react to having something thrown at him, so he walked over with it instead, unfolding it as he went.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Reaching out a hand to take the blanket before John could get too close - before he could try to put it over his shoulders or accidentally touch him - Crowley wrapped it around himself and took a few steps nearer the bed to put some distance between him and John, which unfortunately meant that he'd trapped himself in the middle of the room; John to one side blocking the bathroom door and Kit on the bed on the other side blocking the door to the hall. With a glance at Kit and an odd one at the window, Crowley murmured his thanks.

Demons don't actually say thanks, but Kit didn't know that, so they do now.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John bit back an admonishment, reminding himself (not for the first time of late) that it wasn't so long ago he'd had a traumatic experience of his own whose effects had lingered for many weeks, and that the kind of damage Hell was capable of inflicting wasn't easily shaken off. He'd been trying to stay out of Crowley's space for exactly that reason. It wasn't like it was such a hardship for him, he'd never been the touchy-feely type anyway; but this kind of behavior did not jive with what he'd come to think of as normal for Crowley, and he was beginning to think he'd made a mistake in not pressing the issue sooner. At any rate, Crowley had to have come in here for a reason; if he really wanted to keep his distance that badly, he could have brushed off their invitations to stay.

"Hey," he said softly, wishing vainly for an easy way to separate the two pressing matters at hand without bollocksing up either situation, "it's just me. I really couldn't hurt you if I wanted to, you know that, right?" Carefully, keeping his arms loose and hands open at his sides, as non-threatening a posture as he could contrive, he took one slow, slightly angled step nearer, not approaching too directly (but, as it happened, partly clearing the path to the bathroom door in the process.) "And I don't. Neither does Kit." He inclined his head in her direction. "You gonna keep shying away like that forever?"

It was a good thing the word 'forever' was commonly used as a metaphor for 'a really long time,' and he could therefore get away with saying it in front of Kit. He meant it literally.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Kit couldn't help but wonder sometimes if Adam's hints about John and Crowley being a couple had been an honest-to-god mistake on the boy's part. After all, there was something so inherently right about their interactions; something, she knew from their stilted conversations around her, that she was only seeing pieces of.

And maybe that was good. Maybe she didn't want to know more. But she saw enough, at times, to leave her stinging with regret.

She believed John when he asserted that there was nothing romantic there, but that didn't mean that this relationship was like any he had with his other mates, not even Chas. And she suspected that now, after their recent discussions, she knew why: Crowley let John be himself. He accepted the dichotomy, the good with the bad. He was willing in a way she never had been.

He must have understood more about John's bad shit than she'd ever wanted to hear, and from the looks of things, John repaid in kind. She wasn't jealous, per se; John deserved it, and she hardly felt she could begrudge him that much. But as she watched the two of them in that moment, Kit got the sense that, were she any more sober, such realization -- such demonstration of what she'd never been -- would have been a good deal more upsetting.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"Stop it, John," the demon scowled, annoyed at having his reactions and weaknesses so blatantly called out, and at being treated like a wounded animal. Especially when John had no idea what really happened in Hell. He didn't know about the expert mind games. He wasn't aware that it hadn't been an experience of sheer physical torture, but that every gesture could end unpredictably in a kick or a caress; that the kindnesses were almost worse because they were genuine, even if their ultimate goal was only to cause more pain. "I'm not Chicago."

And he knew very well that this man could hurt him - had hurt him before. But he also understood that John didn't intend to, which made up a great deal of the difference. It was all very confusing, and he was getting mixed messages from both of them. Lust, compassion, regret, hope, worry, desire, fear, insecurity, uncertainty, love, and want were so tightly bound together, he couldn't tell what was coming from whom.

Refusing to submit to the fear, which he was pretty sure was his, Crowley strode decisively into John's personal space. "Shying away like this?" he asked, voice low and reckless. "I'm 'shying away' from fuck. all."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John just smiled slightly. Sometimes a little jab in the pride could accomplish what no amount of sensitivity or forbearance would (not that he was any kind of expert in either of those things.) It was true, he didn't know the specifics, and didn't want to. But he knew the signs of trauma when he saw them, and had more than a passing acquaintance with bravado, and the grey eyes Crowley was wearing right now gave more away than he probably realized.

The cruelest--and ironically, probably unintentional--aspect of the whole thing was that Lucifer's abuses had effectively cut Crowley off from the one thing in which he might have taken solace as he healed. It was high time he got it back.

"Good," he said, deliberately raising one hand and cupping it carefully around the back of Crowley's neck, urging him gently closer and ducking in a bit until their foreheads nearly touched. "I think we're a little past bullshitting each other, don't you?"

He cast a sidelong glance at Kit, his own eyes conveying the somewhat muddled, but powerful mix of his feelings at that moment: he hadn't forgotten her, or what they had just been doing, but he needed to make things right for his mate. And was just now coming to realize how far he was willing to go to accomplish that. Maybe because of Kit, even--the desire she'd roused in him big enough to spill over and include someone else.

And, he realized, that he would really, really like her to help. But that wasn't a choice he could foist on her. She'd have to make up her own mind.

Firmly putting aside his doubts and further attempts at analysis, he tilted his head slightly and completed the gesture, doing for the second time what he'd never expected or planned to do once; letting the careful, tender, tentative kiss convey that he, too, was a little afraid--that being scared, and letting it show, wasn't always such a terrible thing. Especially when you didn't have to do it alone.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Well, Kit hadn't known quite what to expect, but she was fairly sure that that intensity in John's eyes, followed by the sight of him kissing another man, wouldn't have been her first guess, Glenlivet or no. She wasn't quite sure what to do with herself, but if she was reading John's glance right -- and it had been a while, admittedly, but that had always been one of his more blatant expressions -- he wasn't looking for her to leave. Quite the contrary, in fact. And, strange as it seemed, witnessing their kiss felt much less intimate than the baring of emotions that had preceded it.

Her breath came shorter with the unanticipated reminder of just why she and John had ended up here in his bedroom in the first place, though it wasn't quite enough to erase the distress on his mate's face when he'd entered. She wasn't sure what John was up to, pulling a stunt like this, and couldn't help but wonder what Crowley was thinking about this particular turn in events.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley's reaction could be summarized as two-fifths 'what the fuck?' and three-fifths seizing a lifeline and snogging the living daylights out of it. John wasn't Aziraphale, of course, but he was familiar, comfortable, practically vibrating with sensuality at that precise moment, and apparently willing to kiss an antsy demon in front of his girlfriend, so 'why the hell not?' won out by a narrow margin.

It wasn't quite the sort of comfort he'd had in mind post-nightmare, but he'd take what he could get. The question was, could he get both of them? Female was sort of a scary new territory, but Crowley was feeling adventurous and cocky (so to speak). Demons never got afraid; they got seductive.

Taking a short step back from the twin scents of scotch and smoke, Crowley's grey eyes sought John's blue ones, inquisitive. He grinned slightly when he found what he was looking for there. Leaning suggestively back into John's space and bringing an arm around the man's waist, he looked directly at Kit with a sultry expression he'd perfected over the millennia. It was the kind of piercing reptilian look that reached into the hindbrain of mammals and flipped their ...dangerexcitementadrenalinfight... sex switch.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Kit was not of course overtly aware of any influence Crowley may have had on them outside the physical; for all she knew, it was the mere presence of him at her back after she'd so abruptly found herself again in John's arms that worked to ripen the pleasure deep her abdomen so much more quickly than she'd anticipated. She was matching John's pace almost frantically now, her breath heavy in her throat.

But there was something more to the situation than the presence of a third party gracing them both with sweet kisses during their coupling; something about the way John clung to her, desperate and fierce, as though she were something precious that he dared not let go of again. He'd missed this, she realized, somewhere among the intense thrum of emotion. He'd missed her, and though she'd spent a fair amount of time being too stubborn to admit it -- God above, she'd missed him.

Soon overcome, she felt herself tense, tighten around him, her soft vocalizations growing more ragged against his skin; and she shifted to kiss John again, messy and breathless, as the tremulous waves of her orgasm urged him to join her in completion.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

The sound of Kit's pleasure, the invitation implicit in her kiss and the sudden spasms clamping down around him made it pretty much impossible for John to hold back any longer even if he'd wanted to. He kissed back with equal measures tenderness and savagery, then set his brow against her collarbone and came with a low, guttural cry, his entire body jerking convulsively with each searing throb.

As the pleasure gradually waned, it left him trembling to the core and wanting on a purely physical level to collapse and sleep curled up around her for about a week, but they weren't done yet. He rested where he was for a minute or two, letting his pulse slow a little, and swallowed a couple of times before he tried to speak.

"Kit, luv," he finally panted, laying his head on her shoulder as his fingers brushed her cheekbone lightly, almost reverently, and then moved past to curve carefully around the side of Crowley's face where the demon was mirroring his posture at her back, "d'you remember that time...I fell off the couch...and almost put my eye out on the coffee table?"

Glancing up, he searched her face for understanding, and more important, for acquiescence, well aware that it was quite a bit to ask at this stage in the game. What he saw seemed encouraging enough to go on, though; so he straightened up slowly (pausing for another quick kiss) and resettled himself with his back against the headboard, then beckoned to Crowley as Kit started to turn. "Come here, mate..."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Surprisingly, Crowley was rather more enthralled at that moment with Kit and John's pleasure than his own. Although he certainly was enjoying some mild physical pleasure, it was far more erotic to see how completely they were lost in one another. (Watching John find his completion didn't hurt either and Kit was so soft in his arms. If he squinted, the two of them together were almost like one particular blond and pudgy person.) The demon had attended a number of orgies in his lifetime and had seen hundreds of thousands of couples having sex, but never in all his years had he been so near a couple who were clearly in love. It was heartbreakingly familiar.

It was with some relief that John got his breath back and was able to speak distractingly, if enigmatically, so that rather than dwelling on his failed relationship with Aziraphale, feeling like a third wheel, or on his touch anxiety which he'd been able to control fairly well thus far, it was easier for Crowley just to do what he was told.

John's arms were outstretched, but hugs would be intensely awkward, so he sat in front of John, his back to him and both of them facing Kit. Maybe he could get a bit of a back massage or something, he thought distantly, disappointed that even if his wings were in any sort of decent shape he couldn't bring them out here for the erotic pleasure of group grooming. Kit didn't know about them, after all. But apparently John had other ideas, as the man loosely draped his arms around Crowley from behind, tugging him gently against his chest.

The demon squirmed slightly, uncomfortable with no longer being in control of the touching. "What...?" he began.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Kit watched, dazed and somewhat drained, as John and Crowley rearranged themselves. She'd understood the request -- quite clearly, in fact. Her hesitation was more for Crowley's sake; she wasn't a complete stranger to being this intimate with someone after barely more than a drink together, but it was different when she and John had just... and besides, she couldn't be sure he'd accept the attention, what with the way he'd shied away from John's touch earlier.

So she started gently; stroked Crowley's thighs, his torso, slowly, softly. It wasn't until she'd established a cautious rhythm that she shifted, bent to kiss his skin low on his abdomen, very aware of the heat of his erection near her cheek. All the while looking up at him and John, watching for Crowley's consent.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"It's all right," John murmured in Crowley's ear, keenly aware of the tension thrumming through his friend's body, not all of it positive. "See, she's waiting for permission. Mind you, you'd be an idiot to say no. She's really good at this," he added huskily, his eyes fixed on Kit's, bright with memory both old and recent. "But you can--you've got a choice, and anything you choose is okay." Relax. You're safe. I've got you, and nothing here is going to hurt you.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley's eyes were wide and dilated as he stared down at Kit's head; his muscles taut under her fingers and lips. This was a lot to deal with all at once after months of no physical contact and months before of no emotional contact. Then again, this was John, he tried to remind himself. John was okay. John was safe. John could have hurt him many, many times before and never had. And Crowley had John's memories of Kit. Some of them. She was normal. She was nothing more than human. She was also very beautiful and apparently wanted to pleasure him.

Telling his fears to suck it, Crowley consciously relaxed, exhaled sharply, and nodded hesitantly. He wanted this. For a lot of reasons. Good reasons. And there were no good reasons why he shouldn't. So the demon just nodded again, more assuredly and, leaning back against John, let his subconscious desire take over.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Kit smiled up at Crowley, a mischievous half-grin that was not unkind, before her mouth wandered lower, placing gentle kisses at the juncture of his thigh. His scent was musky and filled her senses as her gaze shifted over to John's, eyes shining with the memory they shared. Odd how close she could feel to him even with another body between them.

Crowley shifted, seeming to unwind under her touch, and she took it as a good sign. Her fingertips drew faint patterns across his skin, and, humming, she let her kisses draw in tighter, closer to the heat of his arousal, until she was mouthing the shape of his cock. Lips and tongue traced the shaft, up and down, one side and the other. She paused every so often, flicking her tongue across the head, gaging his reaction carefully even as she took pleasure in the act herself.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Fuck, I wish I was where you are right now," John breathed, supporting his friend in a close protective embrace and letting his hands wander lightly over smooth, heated skin. "Lucky bastard..." Though watching Kit like this, still slowly coming down from his own turn with her as Crowley tensed in his arms in an entirely different way from before, was very nearly as good as being the object of her attentions. A thousand different things about Kit had attracted him from the beginning, but ladylike behavior had never been one of them; she wasn't just good at this sort of thing, she enjoyed it, and that all by itself was one hell of a turn-on.

"Just look at her," he went on in an intimate whisper, taking a stab at the temptation game himself while he had the chance, "tell me you ever saw a nymph or a Valkyrie that could hold a candle to her and I'll call you a liar, and right now she's all for you. Wait 'til she really gets going...sweet as honey warmed in the sunshine, it is, only that doesn't even come close..."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

The demon was himself a talker during intimate moments, so John's commentary was only part of the background tapestry of passion, as much as the man's roving hands or Kit's admirable mouth. John was right, though. Her evident enjoyment only served to increase his own until he was writhing in John's arms and trying not to speak for fear of saying something revealing. Crowley tended to forget what language he was speaking when he was aroused. It hadn't been a problem with Aziraphale as a partner. Nor had the involuntary hissing or the inadvertent wing deploying, which in this case would very badly bruise John if it didn't actually break his ribs. Trying to keep all this control wasn't helpful for letting go and relaxing, but as Kit's tongue worked its magic along his cock, the familiar feeling began to build.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John was a little surprised at how quiet Crowley had been so far--he certainly couldn't have managed it, in his place--until Kit employed one of her favorite, mind-bending tricks involving a sudden swallowing maneuver that sent a sharp spike of arousal through John just watching, and the demon arched and gasped out something that sounded like a garbled fragment of an ancient Sumerian endearment (a pretty crude one, if he was translating right.)

A minute later she did it again, eliciting a hastily-swallowed hiss, and at that point John decided he'd better give Crowley something else to occupy his mouth before things really got out of hand. Twisting carefully to one side--still supporting Crowley, but from a different angle now, and staying out of Kit's way--he leaned in and kissed him firmly, effectively stifling any further potential slips.

From this angle he couldn't see what Kit was doing, but he didn't need to; he could read every move in Crowley's shuddering, clutching reactions and the increasingly urgent pleasure-sounds he made.

No doubt about it, the two of them were hot as hell, no pun intended, and being right there practically on top of it--well, John wondered for a moment, only half humorously, whether it would go completely to Kit's head if she managed to get both him and Crowley off at once.

[no-npc-here.livejournal.com]

Snatches of some other language reached her among John's gruff murmurs, but perhaps luckily for the other two, Kit didn't pay much attention to them beyond the fact that they melded with tense muscles and shuddering breaths to tell her she was fulfilling her part. There was something delightfully bacchanalian about the act, about kissing and sucking the cock of a man she barely knew -- albeit a highly attractive man, with an indescribably appealing curve to his hipbone -- while John kissed him and whispered in his ear like some seductive spirit.

But there was more to it than that, really, odd a sensation as it was to describe. She was working with John, not ignoring him, to pleasure someone he cared about. And while there was an electric pleasure in the way Crowley arched beneath her, an undeniable urgency running through her bloodstream that stemmed from his feral cries, she knew what her ultimate reward was: John's hooded blue eyes watching her, the vicarious satisfaction of the man she... loved?

But no time to ponder that sort of thing, because Crowley was tensing beneath her hands, straining not to thrust too abruptly on her account; so she took him in, slow but willing, as much of his length as she could. Her cheeks concave with gentle suction, she urged him over the edge, and was rewarded moments later by the first hot throbs as he spilled into her mouth. She purred gentle sounds of encouragement around his cock, lips closed tight around him as he came.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Crowley's mind dissolved into white noise. There was too much stimulation. After months of keeping human interaction to a minimum, the demon was being touched in more places than he could keep track of or even identify. He wasn't in control of the situation, either, which made him anxious, but he trusted these two people enough to know that if he asked, they would stop. That was power - the kind of power that had been taken from him on his last trip to Hell - and Kit and John gave it back so sweetly that the attendant anxiety turned to the adrenalin of pleasant, controllable danger. It was almost like bondage the way they were holding him so tightly with only slightly yielding flesh. He knew he could break them both in an instant and knew, too, that he wouldn't. It was liberating.

There was more than touch, too. He could smell Kit's shampoo combined with the sharp scent of her sex. Women were always so pungent, but it wasn't unpleasant. It reminded him vaguely of the seaside. And at first he'd heard John's whispered eroticisms, at least until that devolved into his own strangled moans and the wet sounds of Kit's mouth moving along his length. All he could see were masses of curly black hair, which he wound one hand into and rubbed along his chest, until John began kissing him and all he could taste were cigarettes and scotch. His other hand wrapped around the blond's neck, pulling him closer, and his rugged masculinity was comforting. Crowley was under no delusions regarding John's orientation, but he also knew he was overcoming his natural inclinations for Crowley's sake, and that meant a great deal to the demon, which he tried to communicate in the kiss. Kisses had meant so many things over the years that it didn't seem unusual to him in the least to be snogging his best friend.

It was all of this all at once along with Kit's talented tongue (he might even have learned a thing or two to do with his own preternatural gift) that finally brought the demon to his peak. Losing control - giving it over - he came, his back arching slightly more than was probably humanly possible. Fighting so hard to stifle any telling sounds or phrases, he completely neglected his eyes, which flashed gold before he slammed them shut. After a few frozen moments, still riding the aftershocks and his eyes carefully closed, Crowley pulled Kit up to meet them and kissed her soundly, thankfully, tasting himself on her lips.