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.
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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.