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A Bobby/Crowley fic.

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Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Supernatural. I'm not that awesome.

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A/N: Well, after that, "Did you have to take a picture" - "Did you have to use tongue?" line, I could not resist writing this.

It's short, and I haven't decided if I'll write more for these two ... maybe. It was funny.

Well, let's get on with it, shall we?

As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!

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Robert Steven Singer was not a "gay" man. He was sure of it. He liked women. Okay, well ... woman. The only woman he'd ever loved was his wife. As far as he was concerned, that was all the love he'd ever want and need.

Still, it had been a long time of being the only one ... relieving his tension.

Until now.

Everyone had their weaknesses, their vices. His was standing in front of him with cocky grin on his face.

"They always come back for more," Crowley cooed, making Bobby walk to him.

Bobby didn't mind ... seeing as he was the reason he was walking at all. "Stupid idget," Bobby growled before attacking that sinfully skilled mouth. He pulled back a minute later, his eyes searing into the red ones of the man/demon in front of him. "You breathe a word of this to anyone -"

Crowley rolled his eyes, pushing Bobby back against the bed. "Shut it, darling. Our little secret."

And it was a secret ... the only ones that knew of their escapades were Bobby, Crowley, and his video camera.

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The end.

What did you think? Like it, hate it?

Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.

Until next time ...!