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"In my bed, really? Jerk." Crowley's tone is a purr even as he acts affronted. Dean shrugs with a smile that is devil-may-care if it's anything - fitting, now that he's a demon - and far more akin to a smirk.
"Bitch," he spits out. Lips working, curling around the word.
A response to which includes, after the waitress leaves, Crowley stalking over to take the smile off Dean's face.
"Not going t' put pants on eh?" The king of Hell's voice is closer now to a growl as he rakes his dark eyes up and down Dean's body. Dean knows what this is; as a demon he can sense it - physically feel the twang of want that even another demon has, or can have, sometimes.
So it's no big deal for him to fling away the blankets, to stand up and stretch, all muscles and scars and that bit of stomach pudge he cared about as a human but doesn't now. He used to have so MANY feelings. Demons are...more pure, he guesses, at least in that way. ONLY in that way. His lips curl in amusement at that realization. It's pretty damn ironic, heh. But he bends over slowly, deliberately showing his bare ass to Crowley.
"You like what you see?"
Crowley makes some noise, non-committal, but then movement and hands are at Dean's hips, digging into them, and the other demon is behind him and pressing against him so it's incredibly apparent that he is feeling something, at least right now, about Dean.
Dean's eyes widen and he quips with a smirk "I might be flattered if- ah-" Crowley holds him tighter and presses against the curve of his ass more firmly, giving Dean the ability to feel just how much he got from initially selling his soul. "Oh," brows rising as his teeth catch on lower lip, Dean slowly turns head to look at Crowley over his shoulder. "Are ya gonna go for something here? Or am I gonna have to call you an asshole and mean it?"
Crowley stares at him and then with sharp movement unzips his dark slacks and shoves them down. Works off his overcoat, or begins to, but Dean spins around and fiddles with buttons for him. "Let me," he says, and then rubs himself against Crowley, all along him, up and down; harsh and hard and slow.
Crowley's cheek twitches as Dean bites his lower lip and grins, those blasted green eyes lighting up with mischief -he had the suspicion that Dean Winchester would be a brat, and his brattiness is only amplified by the fact he is demonic.
Lucky him.
Grabbing hold of Dean he bares his arms, and hears as much as feels the exhale as he yanks the Winchester flush to himself, fingers digging into Dean's bare arms and eyes locked.
"Oh, you like it rough, huh?" Their height difference makes a throb start up in Crowley - he wonders what Dean will let him do, or even if "letting" is in Dean's vocabulary.
Grabbing onto Dean's hair at the nape of his neck, Crowley pulls and fastens lips to the side, sucking a mark with "...does this answer your question, mate?" Mumbled against Dean's skin.
Dean's breath hitches and he feels his body twitch. He's enjoying - or has enjoyed - teasing Crowley, but now is rolling and pressing faster and harder as he ruts against him. Crowley grunts out something that includes his name, and now they are both moving -rolling and sliding, practically slamming their bodies against one another with gasps and grasping. It's a lot more rough than gentle, more fucking than lovemaking, but Dean shoves that bit of awareness out of his head to focus on feeling good. Because he is definitely, especially at this point, not the love-making type.
And he'll do that with the assistance of, or even in SPITE of, Crowley. That's who is here, anyway - and if they are staying together to take a howl at that moon... Well. Dean throws head back with a gasping groan as Crowley holds him, strokes him all squeezes and twisting and Dean grabs on to him just as roughly.
Eyes wide and mouths open and sweat mingling, pleasure overtaking pain - because the pain of being a demon is ever-present, whispering within one's head even through the humming in the blood. But this is where they are, and this is what's happened, and what is happening.
It's what being a demon is, for Dean. As he opens his mouth and expels a grunted release. As Crowley matches him sound for sound.
This is what he is, and what he does, because of what he has become.