Assassin (A Crobby Fanfic)

Chapter 5

(Warning: smut ahead)

The kiss was aggressive and sloppy, tongue tangling with tongue as both seemed to try to steal the other's breath until they suffocated. Crowley drew back, panting with wet lips. His dark eyes never left the sniper's, legs straddling his hips to lock him in place.

"As much as I love your... sense of fashion, you'd look much more delectable without these in the way." Crowley practically tore off Bobby's shirt, using the knife to ease the fabric into disposable ribbons. "Much better. Nice to see you not struggling, love."

Bobby was staring at Crowley when he suddenly blinked rapidly in realization that he just let the mafia leader shred his clothes without so much as a twitch. "Fuck you," was his weak retort.

"That's the plan, darling." He switched the position of the knife down with a flip in his hand and severed Bobby's leather belt.

"Hey! That was expensive!" Bobby hissed.

Crowley chuckled. "Didn't peg you for a man to fuss over your clothes." The King of Hell worked the knife through Bobby's jeans, edging dangerously close to his precious. "Besides, it was old and worn. I'll get you a new one if you don't kill me by the end of tonight."

Bobby rolled his eyes then noticed his hands were free. Had Crowley forgotten? Was he that distracted? He inched a hand away.

"I'm not stupid, love," Crowley said as if reading his mind, throwing the knife far away when he finished exposing Bobby's bare body. "But if you really want, I have handcuffs in my drawer."

The rosiness returned to his cheeks. "Shut up, ya idjit."

Crowley got off the sniper and took a step back, eyeing Bobby as one would admire their own handiwork. "I think you'd look pretty with a cloth in your mouth. How's that sound?"

"Like the stupidest idea I've ever heard," Bobby snapped, sitting up and trying to subtly cover himself. "And that's saying something, considering I'm surrounded by stupid ideas in my line of work."

"Stupid ideas are sometimes the most fun. Otherwise, why think of them in the first place?" The mafia leader resisted a smirk as an idea formed in his head.

"I don't like that look on your face," Bobby mumbled, more to himself.

"What? Can't a mafia leader get tired?" Crowley turned and started up the stairs casually. "If you need me, Robert, I'll be in my room."

Bobby's brows knitted together in confusion as he tried to grasp the situation. "Hold on! You're just gonna leave me here?"

Crowley stopped to glance back at him. "If you want something from me, you'll have to tell me. Or else I wouldn't know what to do." He continued up the stairs.

"That's clearly a load of bull!" Bobby shouted.

This time, Crowley couldn't resist the smirk. Fortunately for him, he was already on the second floor and headed to his grand bedroom.

Bobby grounded his teeth together, glancing between the opened exit and the stairs. Even if he did run out, he'd be running around butt-naked. But if he followed Crowley upstairs, who knows what the bastard would do to him? The sniper tried to ignore his obvious erection as he cursed. After the eternity of a minute, Bobby thought, "Damn it all to hell!" and half-walked, half-rushed up the stairs.

He froze when he reached the opened doors of Crowley's bedroom. The son of a bitch had spread himself back on the bed, letting a low hum roll out from his throat as he stroked himself.

"Took you long enough," he muttered hoarsely.

Bobby's pride wouldn't allow him to back down, so he walked right over to the edge of the bed and took Crowley into his mouth until the tip hit the back of his throat. Crowley had not been expecting that. A groan escaped his lips while he bucked up into Bobby instinctively.

"Fuck, Robert!"

The assassin eased his gag reflex to take more of him. Crowley moaned, hands pushing on the back of Bobby's head to show he wants more. Bobby ignored him and drew back. The King of Hell let out what could only be described as a disappointed purr.

"Didn't think you were a whiner," Bobby mumbled, climbing onto the bed and moving over Crowley until he was in between his legs. "You have any lubricant?"

"Bottom left drawer," was Crowley's automatic reply.

Bobby reached over and pulled out the bottle, squeezing a handful into his palm and coating his fingers. Crowley watched intently with an impatient look in his lustful eyes.

"Would you hurry up!" he barked in his gravelly voice.

"I'm gonna take my damn sweet time," Bobby replied calmly, still spreading the slippery substance over his hand.

Crowley started to grumble under his breath when his cusses were suddenly cut off by a tense groan then a delighted hiss. Bobby had entered two fingers into Crowley, gently working them around before spreading them in a scissoring motion. Obviously, the mafia leader was enjoying it immensely from the obscene noises he was making and the pre-cum dribbling down his erection. Bobby slid in one more finger, earning a louder groan from the King of Hell when he touched that special spot. He stilled his fingers for a moment near the second knuckle before pulling them out. This upset Crowley.

Bobby took a second or two to savor the pouty look the King of Hell gave him, eyes begging with an insatiable-looking hunger. He sheathed himself fully into Crowley without warning, grunting. Crowley let out a loud moan, throwing his head back. His hands fisted the sheets as Bobby pushed in more. The assassin let out a muffled sound when Crowley's walls tightened around him. Then he hit that special spot, and Crowley all but screamed his name along with a string of incoherent curses and encouragements. Bobby understood why he emptied his mansion. If anyone was here, they'd have surely heard. The thought of people knowing added to his arousal.

"Close... I'm close," Bobby muttered.

Crowley whined. "Robert..." He paused to gasp, trying to catch his breath while being pounded into, but that was fruitless so he just pushed on breathlessly. "Robert... aren't you... forgetting?"

The assassin hummed gruffly in question before he caught sight of Crowley's aching erection. Slowing for a second, he took it in his hand and jerked it in rhythm to his hard thrusts. Crowley's breath hitched before he came undone with a loud and satisfied groan, back arched in euphoria. His white seed coated his and Bobby's stomach in white streams. Bobby's pace staggered as he followed his partner, pulling out before he could release inside. Both men were panting, sticky with their mixed semen and sweat.

"Lovely," Crowley breathed, smirking again as he came down from his high.

Bobby dropped beside him on the bed and reflexively wrapped his arms around Crowley's torso. "The devil indeed," he mumbled tiredly.

"I'm not the devil. I'm the King."

"You're definitely a royal pain," Bobby wanted to say but found he was too tired and was already drifting off. He didn't feel the brush of fingers over his hair or the tender kiss he was given on his forehead.