Belial shook with unsatisfied desire, biting his lower lip as Crowley's tongue burned a path along his flayed skin, aching to watch his fingers disappear into Crowley's blood-stained mouth.

Wishing it were Gabriel touching him so delicately, gently, making him sore at heart and loin. Hoping desperately that soon it would be.

He drew Crowley's hand to his mouth and licked it with the broad of his tongue, like a submitting dog, eyes downcast and lashes struggling to hold heavy tears back. Relief flooded him, mingled with the smell of sex and sweet bloody skin. His hair fell before his black eyes, obscuring his view of Crowley.