neutral_omens | (no subject)

"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.

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.

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.

"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..."

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.

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.

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.

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.

John just held onto Crowley as he shuddered through a monster of an orgasm (Shit, he really needed that one!) and was only briefly alarmed at the glimpse of gold; a quick glance told him Kit hadn't caught it. It raised some troubling questions in his mind that would have to be dealt with, but not now. Later.

He patiently waited his turn as the others kissed (and if he'd been the artist, he would have killed for a canvas and paints just then; it was downright criminal nobody else would ever get to see the pair of them in that moment.) Drawing them both in as close as the slightly awkward arrangement allowed, he noted with approval as his friend relaxed for what must have been the first time in weeks, and immediately claimed Kit's mouth as soon as Crowley was finished with it. The lingering taste was odd and distantly familiar, and...well, honestly, just a little off-putting, but not so much that he'd let the others see. If they could both handle it, he certainly could. And the taste of Kit was underneath, more than enough reward.

Turning his attention back to Crowley for a moment, he gave him a little squeeze and murmured with gruff affection into the demon's silky hair, "Better? Think you can sleep now?"

The demon chuckled weakly and on an exhale just said, "Fuuuuuck..." He had really needed that. See what six months of forced abstinence will do? He'd just gotten used to the idea of regular sex when it ended. And that felt like eons ago.

Resting his cheek on John's shoulder for a moment while he corrected his eye colour, Crowley blinked and added, "Yeah. I could sleep for a week." Of course, it was meant literally, which the man would probably know, but thank Adam for exaggerated metaphors.

Nearly inaudibly, he continued. "Thanks."

John snorted quietly. "Don't thank me," he replied equally softly, smiling at Kit as he ran a hand idly up and down her back. She was never more gorgeous than in moments like this, he thought, struck by the sight of her: flushed and disheveled, almost glowing with satisfaction and the heady power of what she had just evoked. And she didn't even know, yet, the nature of the ill she'd helped to remedy. Again, he was troubled, but put it aside to enjoy what he knew was a unique moment, one highly unlikely to be repeated. Revelations could wait.

Kit shifted until she too was resting against John, one hand finding his as she lay her head on his free shoulder. "I'm just glad you boys are playin' nice together again." Of course, that hadn't exactly been her primary motivation, but John sagged with a satisfaction that she instinctively knew stretched deeper than the physical, and Kit was glad for it. True, she might require more explanation in the morning, but for now a drowsy warmth filled her, and two grateful kisses seemed more than enough. She met Crowley's gray eyes and smiled, paradoxically somewhat shy given where they'd ended up this evening.

With a snigger, Crowley said, "Ssomething like that." He felt half intoxicated and fully exhausted but there were things he needed to deal with yet.

He thought for a moment that the best idea would be to make them both forget he'd ever been here and slip off to his own room. But that wasn't fair. It cheapened their free will offerings to him and John's pain from the year before was still too fresh. Messing with the man's memories again would be more cruel than even the demon could handle at the moment. It would make him no better than that fiend.

Still, Kit was a problem. She didn't know what he was and was likely to freak out whenever she found out she'd fellated the Serpent of Eden. John had had a terrible reaction when he'd found out, and he'd never given the demon a blow job.

Crowley smiled back at her before giving John a questioning look, as if to ask, 'Now what?'

John's response was a barely-perceptible shake of his head (Not now.) Kit was getting drowsy, and she was a pretty sound sleeper. He and Crowley could talk in a bit, provided neither of them nodded off in the meantime. And they did need to talk--he was well aware of the complications the whole situation posed. He'd rather have put it off til later, but that was probably a really bad idea...

He debated for a moment walking Crowley back to his own room and having a quick word with him there, but it seemed more than a bit cold to kick him out after all that; and anyway the notion of curling up all together and passing out for a good long while was extremely appealing just then, regardless of any good reasons why they shouldn't. He wasn't sure he'd ever, in his life, had the people closest to him literally within arm's reach like this, safe and sound and (at least for the moment) happy, with no immediate threats hanging over their heads. He didn't want to spoil that rare moment if he could avoid it.

So instead, he slid down the bed, tugging the others with him, one on either side, and yawned hugely (and mostly genuinely.) "Yeah, me too. Dunno 'bout you two, but I'm about knackered..."

"Just a wee bit," Kit murmured, gladly taking the hint and curling up at John's side. She hadn't been quite sure how to proceed; no one had ever really gone over the proper etiquette for when one has just slept with one's ex and his best mate.

But it felt good, lying next to John again. For all he'd ever - no, for all the problems they'd ever encountered, she'd always felt safe, tucked in at his side at the end of the night. It wasn't long before her breath softened, and she found she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

The demon turned away to hide his own yawn as it tended to be anatomically impossible to open one's mouth that wide and humans found it disconcerting. But then he settled in on John's other side, pleased to not be in the stifling middle position, yet still next to the person he cared for more.

Thinking back over the last year or so when John was antsy even sitting on the same bed (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/47793.html), to their awkward hug in the hospital wing (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/75553.html) some months later, their sleepy closeness after his breakup with Aziraphale (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/112017.html), and the kiss on Christmas Eve (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/120803.html), Crowley probably should have figured this time would come. Once you've shared life or death experiences, rescued and been rescued, utterly lost each other, and literally been inside each other's heads, a little physical closeness was no longer a big deal.

He waited a few minutes until he was certain Kit was asleep, then blinked his eyes back to their natural state. Wondering vaguely if John had a preference between the gold and the silver, he nudged the man lightly.

"Hey," whispered Crowley. "All right?"

"Mmm-hmm," came the drowsy response. John was extremely comfortable and sorely tempted to let himself doze off as well, but he'd managed to keep his eyes open--well, halfway, anyway--and was actually a bit relieved to see that Crowley had dropped the disturbingly "normal" gray facade. Apart from the predictable strangeness of seeing the wrong eyes in a familiar face, they made the demon seem so thoroughly, unremarkably human that John knew he could very quickly lose what little awareness he still had of Crowley's alien nature. (Besides which, he remembered from the big Halloween party that having one's eyes fucked with that way (http://community.livejournal.com/madprophets/47153.html) got uncomfortable after a while.)

"Ask me again inna minute, when I stop carefully not realizing what we just didn't do," he whispered back. Like telling Kit exactly who they'd just taken to bed. That was going to come back and bite him in the arse, no question about it. It didn't make a lick of difference to him anymore, but he feared she was liable to see things very differently. Part of him had recognized that right along and chosen to ignore it. He decided that he wouldn't have acted differently even if he'd had more time to think it through--some experiences and outcomes were worth taking serious risks--but there was no sense trying to gloss over the fact that this whole encounter was going to complicate things immensely. "I ever mention I've got a real knack for painting myself into corners?"

Crowley snorted. "That'll happen when you ignore the bad shit for too long." Pot, kettle, hello.

But the demon could read the concern in John's eyes and he knew, better than anyone - possibly even better than John since he'd seen it objectively - how much the man cared for the beautiful woman in his arms. He'd truly never wanted to interfere with that. Crowley wanted John to have his second chance and had been pretty successful at suppressing the minor twinges of jealousy he'd felt here and there when John was otherwise engaged of an evening. Still, this was a new situation.

He knew why John had done it, the bastard, but it was even more galling to find that he'd been right and it had, for the most part, worked. But it was still so bizarre to know that someone knew him that well; could not only read what he needed beyond his projected air but would then deliver it with no thought of consequence to himself. It gave the demon a tightening in his abdomen that had nothing to do with sex - something he was going to have to worry about later - and everything to do with real friendship.

"Sshe's going to find out eventually," he murmured. "I can pass very well, and you know it, but there are people here who don't think about what they say and I can't control that. It could get very nasty. The only thing I can do is make her forget. You, too, if you wanted that. But I won't do it without permission. I'm not... you know..." Crowley trailed off, unwilling to say that he wasn't a fiend and bring up all that pain.

"I know." John sighed and stared moodily at the ceiling, considering. Every fiber of his being recoiled at the idea of having his own memories screwed around with, even by Crowley. Once was more than enough for one lifetime. But wiping Kit's memory would simplify things, at least temporarily...

Ahh, but there it was: he couldn't lie to Kit. Particularly when he really didn't want to. Maybe if it was some small, unimportant thing, but not something like this--she'd been so generous, understood his intent so well and followed his lead without question, and it would be grossly unfair to try to deny it had happened. Sooner or later he'd slip up and say something he shouldn't, or she'd sense he was keeping something from her and call him out on it, and then if she hadn't already found out the truth about Crowley she would still demand to know why and how they had 'arranged' for her to forget. And be rightfully furious with them both, either way. No, there wasn't going to be an easy way out of this one.

Anyway, he'd vowed not to make the same mistake this time as before, keeping the part of his life with Kit in it walled off from the rest. She should have been told the truth long before now--it was a bit of a mystery how nobody had tipped her off already, in fact. Adam's doing, maybe. But it was going to have to end, and sooner than later.

"Nah," he said finally. "Reckon I'm gonna have to do this the hard way. But thanks, though. Just...is it okay if I tell her? I mean, if I see a good time for it...if there is any such thing." He didn't ask if Crowley wanted to do it himself; if he volunteered, fine, but John wasn't going to try to dump that responsibility on his friend.

Maybe they'd get lucky, and when the truth came out, however it happened, tonight would wind up actually making things easier. Kit had surprised him before. But he wouldn't hold his breath.

That was really what the demon had expected John to say, but it was best to have it confirmed. Crowley shrugged his bare shoulders against the sheets, feeling old. "If you'd like," he said quietly. "Though you sshould probably wait until I'm around. That way the ire is lesss concentrated." His lips quirked wryly.

If the hissing was any indication, Crowley was getting very sleepy. "Sso, we'll worry about it later, then..." That was all he really wanted to know. With his question answered, the demon hesitated a moment, then put his arm across John's chest, snuggling relatively close. "Night, mate."

John shifted a little and got settled comfortably, one bedmate tucked close and safe in the curve of either arm. "Yeah, later. Night," he whispered, and fell asleep soaking up the sense of tranquil stillness that settled over the room like a comforting blanket.