"Fuck," Zira ground out. If he were mortal, sweat would be beading his forehead. His back arched, hips rolling against the resistance of Crowley's weight on him, the tight grip of his internal muscles as he rocked himself on Zira's cock.
It took Zira a moment to reclaim his hold on Crowley's bobbing cock, given the sudden and unexpected shift in his position of dominance. Not that he minded, not in the least.