Careful What You Wish For

Do As You're Told

No sooner than Castiel had left the room, Sam's phone started ringing. A familiar electric guitar riff followed by Ozzy Osbourne belting out the name of his caller made Sam jump. He fumbled pulling his phone from his pocket, trying to turn off the ringer before Dean or Castiel could hear. He was halfway through the first verse before getting to the talk button.

"Hello?" Sam's voice was hushed.

"Oh, are you with someone?" Crowley's voice was smooth.

"Um... No, why?"

"Because if your blasted brother and that angel aren't on your ass, you'd better address me properly," he was firm, and Sam had a hard time telling if he was serious or just trying to get him riled up.

Sam swallowed hard and his thoughts froze for a minute as memories of their past exploit came rushing in. He looked around, triple checking that he was alone. He knew Dean knew what he looked like when he was feeling guilty, and aroused, and guiltily aroused. He also knew he was a terrible liar when it came to his brother, so there would be no covering this up. He could get caught without having actually done anything.

The line was silent for too long. "Moose?"

He snapped out of it. "Uh, yeah. Yes, uh, yes sir. King," his voice faltered a bit; he could feel his face getting hot.

"Good boy, Moose," Crowley practically purred. "I've taken the liberty of doing some grocery shopping for you. Now, you're going to go tell Moe and Curly that you're going shopping. Refuse company if they offer it. Then, you're going to drive to the... what is this horrid place again? The Buckshot Inn. And you and I are going to have some fun. When we're finished you can bring home the groceries just in time and your companions will be none the wiser. We just have to hope they don't notice you sitting funny for the next few days." He paused, not even a peep from Sam. "Do you understand me, Moose?"

Sam's heart was pounding by the time Crowley had finished. Could he really go through with this again? With so much forethought and planning, he wasn't sure if he could do it. It was pure impulsivity last time. "Uh... I..."

"This isn't really a question of will you or won't you, Moose. I'm asking if you understand the instructions I have given you."

"Yeah, but-" He was cut off.

"No buts, Moose. Like I said, I wasn't asking whatever question it is you're trying to answer. You understand, and now you're going to do as you're told. You have thirty minutes before I start getting upset." Crowley hung up.

All of this was part of the game. He could feel that Sam liked to relinquish control, and could sense that in some ways he used it as a crutch to relieve himself of responsibility for his actions. If Crowley was stern and demanding and upset, what could Sam do but what he was told? If Crowley was weak, Sam would feel obligated to argue, despite not actually objecting for his own sake.

In truth, the King of Hell wasn't sure Sam would show. It would be okay if he didn't - he certainly wasn't going to go all vengeful or scorned. He wanted to play a game of domination and ownership, in no small part because it seemed Sam wanted to play a game of submission and surrender. He decided he would only wait an hour, and spent the next while pondering fun punishments should Sam be late.