Zeke walked Crowley to a wall, backing him to the flat surface. The fires about the room had started to dissipate, though the temperature still soared. Zeke wasn't as accustomed to the heat, but he found he adjusted to it well enough.
He ground his hips against Crowley, determined and insistent. "Take what you need from me, Dearest. Work through the anger you feel." He felt it too, and knew it was partly his fault, too, that Cassiel was gone. He'd paid less attention to her, since she'd matured, since she seemed to need him less and less. He couldn't even recall the last time he'd seen her or spoken to her, and allowing his demon to use his body would go a long way toward alleviating his guilt.