Send me one of the following; for my muses reaction when your’s says [one of the following] while teasing my muses body with an ice cube.
- "Don’t worry, I’ll warm you back up after."
- "See? You really are hot~ The ice is melting."
- "I think I’d like some refreshing juice with this ice~"
- "How long can you last? Until it melts?"
- "Just look~ the waters leaking out~"
- "Com’on. I thought you lasted longer than that?"
- "Does it turn you on?"
- "You gasp so cutely~"
- "Keep pulling faces like that and I’ll have to kiss you~"
- "It’s to cold? Then beg~"
"You know damn well what I’m afraid of," he said quietly, taking another swig from the bottle of whiskey he was cradling.
"Now darling, speak to me like that one more time and you’re going to find a new place to keep that bottle," moving over to him, slender fingers moved to pry it away, "what’s wrong?"
Crowley laughed at that, the smile making him a little less tense, though the frown lines on his face remained. “Ooooh. Love it when you talk dirty.” He let her get rid of the whiskey, looking up at her. “I had a bad dream. Lucy sprang the cage and murdered the kids ‘n you. Well, he gave you the Elia Martell treatment.” He sighed, thumping his head back against the wall. “It felt so real. I could smell your blood. Practically taste it.” He trembled slightly, the smile on his face already gone.
Well that sounds like Lucifer, doesn’t it,” brown hues drop to the whiskey bottle in hand, taking her own swig of it before placing it at the other side of the room, “Crowley, it was just a dream. Okay? A dream.” She moved to place herself on his lap, one arm hooked around his neck, “Nothing’s going to happen to the kids. Or me. Or you for that matter. Okay?”