Actions

Work Header

Craving

Work Text:

You frantically searched the rooms of the bunker. Tearing open cupboard after cupboard and drawer after drawer in the kitchen, you found nothing. Fridge and freezer, empty. You proceeded to the war room and the library, even though you knew there was no chance the Winchesters were keeping it there. Lastly, your room. There was a slight chance you had overlooked something when you had ransacked it the first few times, but as you had feared, there was nothing left. If only it weren't so urgent, if only Sam and Dean were home and could drive you somewhere you could get it…

There was nothing for it, you had to accept the hard truth. You had eaten all the chocolate.

You fell onto the couch, pulling your legs up, and swore. The boys were nice and all, but they didn't have the first idea of how to live with a woman. The fools didn't know you had cravings, that they couldn't leave you home alone with a shitload of beer, but without a single piece of chocolate.

Please bring chocolate on your way home! you had texted Sam hours ago and he had sent a smiley and the thumbs up back, but it would take them at least until tomorrow morning to come back. You groaned.

You turned on the TV and mindlessly watched a few minutes, then went to the kitchen again to make absolutely sure there was nothing sweet to have, poured yourself a glass of water and returned to the TV. The program was boring and your thoughts drifted freely.

Suddenly, the TV flickered. You sat up, turned it off and looked over the back rest of the couch. You didn't see anything, but thought you heard shoes click on the stone floor.

"Hello, boys?" a familiar, gruff voice called.

You stood and walked towards it, meeting Crowley at the table in the war room.

"Hi there," you said, a little intimidated. You had never been alone with the King of Hell before.

"Good evening, Y/n," Crowley said, as usual a bit more formal with you than he was with the Winchesters. "What's up with the Hardy boys?"

"Sam and Dean are out on a job." You flopped down on a chair and gestured at another opposite you.

"And they left you all alone here?"

His tone was unsettling, as if he was insinuating something might happen to you in the meantime.

"Yeah, phone duty."

Crowley sat down and opened a bottle of whiskey that appeared out of nowhere. A moment later, he slid a glass in front of you. You took it between your hands and watched the demon cautiously.

"Thanks," you said.

You knew Crowley from the few times Sam and Dean had cooperated with him on hunts, mostly concerning rogue demons, but you weren't exactly on drinking terms with him. Thinking back to the briefing you had had on staying in the bunker alone, you remembered Sam and Dean had warned you people might show up when they were gone. They had recommended quite expressively to not entertain morally flexible guests, but to show them to the door in a friendly but insistent manner. Ha. As if you would dare kick out the King of Hell.

"Where did they go?" Crowley asked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

"Somewhere south," you kept your answer vague. You didn't quite remember and thought that was best in this case, as well. "A chupacabra, by the sounds of it. They should be home tomorrow. So, what brings you to this party location?"

Crowley smiled. "Just a warning that I planted some information on my henchmen to find out who is steadily selling me out to the enemy. Whenever you hear anything about the King's great plans to seize control of the entrances to heaven, give us a call?"

You nodded. "Sure."

"You don't seem too chipper today," he observed, taking a sip of his drink.

"I'm bored. And the boys left me home alone without chocolate." You pouted. It occurred to you that Crowley could zap in and out as he pleased. But he was the King of Hell. You wouldn't dare ask, would you?

"On some days I get these weird cravings… Say, I don't suppose you'd know how a girl could get a hit?" You batted your eyelashes at him.

Crowley raised his eyebrows.

"Did mommy and daddy not warn you not to take candy from strangers?"

You smiled and took a sip from the whiskey, then had to hold back a grimace from the burning sensation in your throat.

"Depends on what the stranger wants from me in return," you said, when you were sure you wouldn't cough. "I won't step into your van, no matter how good the sweets."

Crowley leaned forwards.

"Are you seriously suggesting the King of Hell play fetch for you?"

You felt your cheeks redden. Not in those words, you hadn't. Well, he hadn't said no yet.

"I'm suggesting the King of Hell doesn't leave a woman's needs unfulfilled," you murmured, wondering where you took your courage from. You weren't usually so flirty and daring and you knew it was a dangerous game you were playing. What was holding him back from just taking you with him if he thought you were leading him on?

To your relief, he laughed.

"Well put, love," he said, sitting back in his chair. "What have you heard?"

His eyes were glinting.

You shrugged in a way you hoped was mysterious, but you were the one who was intrigued. What was there to hear? Since you lived with two male hunters, there was no gossip to be had and especially not on men.

"Unfortunately – for you, that is – a very humble request is a prerequisite for the fulfilling of needs."

Nervously, you took another sip of your whiskey. The more you were drinking, the better you liked it. And it gave you something to do besides being devoured by Crowley's eyes.

"We're still talking about a bar of chocolate, right?" you questioned, drawing your cardigan closer around you.

Crowley smirked at you, got up and walked around the table to stand in front of you, leaning against the edge of the table. He was a little too close right now, and your instinct told you to slide back with your chair, but you held still. You had a feeling that Crowley would have liked you to be intimidated, like a cat waiting for the mouse to run to finally pounce.

"A humble request would require you to fall quiet and lower you eyes in deference," he said, his eyes boring into yours. You cast them down, restless, realizing that Crowley was blocking your glass. Shit. Now there was nothing else to focus on but his infernal majesty. Anxiously, you tried not to fidget.

"It would behoove you to kneel down and fold your hands," he carried on, lifting his hand to stroke it along your cheek lightly, hardly touching at all. He was talking so silently now, you had to lean a little closer and strain your ears. He bent down to grip the armrests of your chair, effectively trapping you between the chair and himself.

"...wait until you were addressed..."

His breath ghosted along your ear when he was talking, which made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. That voice… You were still afraid of him, but his seductive tone made your heart hammer in your chest for other reasons as well. He was so close you could smell his scent, deliciously exotic, with a hint of whiskey and sulfur.

"...then meekly make your request," he murmured, voice rumbling. "First asking, then pleading, finally begging."

His beard scratched lightly along your jaw, prompting you to flinch a little in surprise. You were so keyed up, just sitting still was nearly impossible.

"Begging very nicely," he added, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

The thought of the King on his throne, looking down at you on your knees, was making shivers run down your spine. Already now, he exuded power and control and you couldn't imagine how it would feel to experience this in his kingdom, under his rule.

"And if… only if I were satisfied with your performance, I'd consider fulfilling your needs in the way I'd see fit."

He pulled back a little, hands still on your chair. His movement brought you face to face with him, almost touching. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, then quickly up again. His amused expression suggested he had an idea of how he was affecting you. You averted your gaze and shifted in your seat. The effects of his speech were now trickling down your belly in a hot thread of arousal, and still you couldn't move.

"If you had been a good girl, I'd be merciful, giving in to your need, slowly sliding in piece for piece, filling you until you couldn't take any more. I'd have you on a sugar rush like never before."

The innuendo, so calmly spoken in his warm and raspy voice, made you blush again. You leaned back a little until you could lower your head. With a crooked index finger, Crowley gently lifted your chin until you looked into his eyes again.

"I would fulfill your needs so thoroughly, you'd forget about any other … candy you ever had. I would fill you until you couldn't walk anymore."

With his eyes still firmly locked to yours, he let go of the other armrest and leaned back, smirking.

You exhaled audibly. He turned back, reached for your glass and handed it to you, still watching you like a predator.

You took a deep swig.

"Sounds like some quality chocolate," you said weakly, your voice shakier than you would have liked to let on. Your cardigan was stiflingly hot now, but you didn't want to take it off. That would look far too interested at this moment and you didn't want to admit you were.

"Well, I've got to dash," Crowley announced, setting his drink on the table. "Think about it."

He winked at you and was gone.

Had the King of Hell just propositioned you? You downed the rest of the drink in your glass – thankfully, Crowley had left the bottle – took off your cardigan and went to the bathroom to splash your face with water. The cool liquid was a relief to you after the heated exchange. Sighing, you let it run down your neck.

Well, you couldn't say that the craving for chocolate was on the forefront of your mind anymore, thus Crowley had succeeded. But now there were other cravings… You decided to call it a night, return to the relative privacy of your room, where you didn't expect anyone to zap in unannounced at least, and have a little alone time.

On the way there, you passed the table again, where a strange item caught your eye. Approaching, you identified it as not only one item, but a whole stack of chocolate bars and boxes with French writing on them. Someone had popped over to Switzerland and brought back a whole lot of fulfillment for your needs.

You smiled.

On the top box, there was a small note.

Just this once.
- C