Crowley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deservetobeloved) wrote2014-01-17 06:21 pm
deservetobeloved) wrote2014-01-17 06:21 pm
better the devil you know (for hunter_returns)
Some things just wouldn't do -- for instance, Sam Winchester sick from not getting his dose of demonic blood when him being weakened wouldn't benefit Crowley in the slightest. It was a predicament. On the one hand, he didn't trust Sam Winchester at all. He was unpredictable. He was angry and rash and strung out on cravings for something big brother didn't approve of.
And on the other, Crowley needed him functional and if Sam had to be dependent on any old demon for blood, part of him thought it was better that it was him. It earned him brownie points from Lucifer loyalists and it kept him near enough to keep an eye on Sam. It was win-win in Crowley's book.
It was also a rather nice sight, watching Sam's mouth closing around the wound he made on his arm. He always looked so blissed out, like it was absolute heaven to be latched on to Crowley of all people, feeding deep as he dared. Crowley found himself looking forward to the sight the more they did this, honestly.
Crowley wasn't surprised to be in yet another motel room -- this one as cheap and filthy as all the rest. They tended to blend together after a while, he found. He didn't know how the Winchesters tolerated these living conditions half the time. But that was neither here nor there. His focus was on Sam now, waiting for him.
"You rang?" He smirked as he circled around a table in the room and made a show of looking around. He was probably aching for a taste of Crowley by now, no doubt. But it was so much more fun for him if he kept him waiting, got him to squirm a little before offering a vein over.
And on the other, Crowley needed him functional and if Sam had to be dependent on any old demon for blood, part of him thought it was better that it was him. It earned him brownie points from Lucifer loyalists and it kept him near enough to keep an eye on Sam. It was win-win in Crowley's book.
It was also a rather nice sight, watching Sam's mouth closing around the wound he made on his arm. He always looked so blissed out, like it was absolute heaven to be latched on to Crowley of all people, feeding deep as he dared. Crowley found himself looking forward to the sight the more they did this, honestly.
Crowley wasn't surprised to be in yet another motel room -- this one as cheap and filthy as all the rest. They tended to blend together after a while, he found. He didn't know how the Winchesters tolerated these living conditions half the time. But that was neither here nor there. His focus was on Sam now, waiting for him.
"You rang?" He smirked as he circled around a table in the room and made a show of looking around. He was probably aching for a taste of Crowley by now, no doubt. But it was so much more fun for him if he kept him waiting, got him to squirm a little before offering a vein over.