inlovewithmycar | open post

good, good. i'd hoped i got the sulfur smell out - can never really be too sure. it clings for decades and decades.

newhere in particular u'd like to go? big country, lot of tempting things to get us into trouble. i always wanted to try one of those deep fried chocolate bars.

it'd be an emergency measure only. just saying, all won't be lost if we lose our earthly bodies. and i don't know what 2 say angel - u have every rite 2 be mad. i'm glad ur not, but i still could have idk actually explained anything.

yes. definitely 2nite. pls 💗💓💗💓💗💓

'Course it's love. Always loved you.

[ And now he can say it. Just casually, all out in the open. Like he can rub Aziraphale's shoulders or feed him cake. ]

...And you do spoil me. You're very indulgent to my own little whims.

[ It's the little things; the way Aziraphale welcomes Crowley into his life, makes room for him in the sanctuary of his bookshop, how much he trusts him and lets him ask all his questions ranging from trying to suss out the deep moral quandaries of life to the utterly inane or pedantic queries that amble through his brain at any given moment. These things mean more to Crowley than Aziraphale may ever know. ]

Well, yes, but that's hardly spoiling you.

[ It's much easier to spot with Aziraphale, who loves to be pampered in all ways, manners and forms. He likes to be touched, he likes to be fed, he likes expensive things and good shows and sweet kisses and wherever that leads. ]

Tomorrow. We'll do all the things you want to do. I'll draw you a bath. And then I'll weave you a dream. And we can go... look for more plants. And take a drive.

What do you say?

[There's a soft, pleased sound for every kiss that brings Crowley closer, close enough to look right into his eyes and smile blissfully. His cheeks flush at the compliment and he turns his head to press a kiss to one of Crowley's palms before his lips are captured in that kiss he'd been craving.]

Look who's talking, my dear.

[He places a hand on Crowley's shoulder and strokes him all along his side, down to his hip, his thumb rubbing that tantalizing crease between hip and groin.]

You're glorious.

I can't remember the last time I smelled sulfur on you, but I might have become nose blind to it. Sandalphon once remarked on smelling something evil in my shop and it took me a good second or two to realize it was because you had been around earlier. I think I'd like to see a bit of nature, if you don't mind? The redwoods in particular. A few of them are nearly a third of our age! We can get one of those deep fried chocolate bars along the way. Where do they make those? So long as we still have each other.

[There's a pause before the next text.]

We've never been stellar at communicating... I mean, not until recently. I promise not to get so mad at you that I don't listen, so long as you promise not to sleep for extreme periods of time as a way of avoiding me. Deal? Well, with all those lovely hearts you've offered me, how could I possibly say no? <3

Edited 2020-04-02 02:10 (UTC)

[ Crowley makes a stuttering protest. ]

It is - I am very spoiled, rest assured.

[ He presses a few kisses to the nape of Aziraphale's neck. If only the angel knew how much he did for Crowley already. ]

Those do sound nice though. Grab a hamper and take a nice drive into the countryside. Do a picnic. Nice bath in the evening...

[ His hands wander down Aziraphale's arms until he reaches a fork-free hand to hold. ]

...hop into bed, you with a nice book... it sounds perfect.

A picnic, and a bath. Oh, Crowley, what a perfect day.

[ But then again, so is this one. They're all perfect days, now that they're together, he thinks. ]

I'll read to you. What do you think? We've always followed humans on their adventures.

[ And they could do so without any chance of intervening, even. He extends his fingers all the way out so that Crowley's have to slip in between them, and then closes them, interlocking. ]

Or, perhaps... if you'd like, have you read those choose your own adventure books? What a novel idea!

[ Crowley gives a spectacular shiver under Aziraphale's touch, his whole body hypersensitive with pleasure.

He muffles a high, thin sound in the crook of Aziraphale's neck, hips rocking and jolting involuntarily. He knows he shouldn't be so acutely aware of every touch from Aziraphale, but he is and his body responds accordingly. ]

Angel -

[ His voice sounds so little like his own he can hardly believe he managed to utter a word. He almost looks around for some intruder, but no, that definitely came out of his mouth. ]

- You definitely make me feel glorious. Let's never stop doing this. Just - just live in your bed and never let go of each other.

[ He knows it's ridiculous. There are a million and one things he can think of off the top of his head that he and Aziraphale would like to do that don't involve fucking each other senseless. But here, in this moment, surrounded by love, Crowley can't bring himself to want anything else. ]

as long as i don't smell bad 2 u is all that matters. and sandalphon has no right to talk, he smells like mayonnaise left out in the sun for a few hours then drowned in cologne, the oily tit.

ooh, good choice. ...and i reckon they make them all over? we'll drive around and see. so new york, find deep fried candy, and then it's off to the west coast for a hike. should be a nice weekend vacation for us.

[ Crowley does not actually know how big America is. ]

that's what we fought for. our own side.

and a deal with a demon, Aziraphale? ooo

but yes, definitely a deal. genuinely happy to be able to just say things outright. nice to just tell u things. not that i didn't tell u things b4 but nice to not have to say them in secret code.

when i want something does it mean all i have to do is send u lots of hearts? bc ur fingers in my hair is 💕💘🍆💦

Would you...?

[ Given what they've gotten up to, how utterly shameless they are in their affection, it's pretty astonishing what will make Crowley flush from head to toe. Here, in the privacy of their bed with no one else to see, he is positively blushing over the offer to be read to while they hold hands and Aziraphale eats cake. ]

Always wanted you to...

[ He mutters, ever so softly. ]

[ Don't think that Aziraphale missed that, because he didn't. He moves the tray aside and busses Crowley on the cheek before getting up to go select a book to read. ]

Any requests?

[ Otherwise, he might be down there for a little too long, and come up with tomes upon tomes for Crowley to choose from. He might already have fallen asleep by then. ]

Anything you want.

[ Even though he's doing the work, he supposes this is like how Crowley always treats Aziraphale to things. He gets no less enjoyment by being the narrator, than being on the receiving end of a good book reading. ]

[It shouldn't be a surprise, not after this evening so far, but having Crowley come apart like that underneath his touch has the angel's heart thrumming with delight. He repeats the motion, then gently presses him onto his back, reversing their positions.]

I think you'll find my schedule to be free and clear of anything but you.

[If it's ridiculous, then let them be ridiculous together. Right now, there's nothing more that Aziraphale wants, either. He slides his lips to Crowley's neck, exploring there with teeth and tongue while one of his hands teases circles on the inside of his hip.]

If I can bring you a fraction of the pleasure you bring me, we'll never want to leave.

Yes, *that's* what he smells like. Rancid aioli. I'd been trying to place his odor for ages now. You smell wonderful to me, dear. I'm glad you're in the bookshop so often now. I think that fried desserts is more of a southern delicacy, although you can find nearly any cuisine in New York City. I'm sure in the drive to the west coast, we'll spot a proprietor along the way, perhaps at a charming roadside stand or diner.

[Aziraphale does not actually know how big America is, either.]

A deal with an angel, Crowley? ooo yourself. I'm glad we don't have to couch our words, either. Although I also appreciate our non-verbal communication skills. Those are not all hearts, you know, but I'll allow it. I was wondering when the aubergine was going to show up, it's only a matter of time with you.

[ Crowley stretches himself out, watching Aziraphale bent over his books with interest. ]

Mm - something funny. Or saucy. Or so saucy it's funny.

[ Crowley may have been a great patron of the arts and sciences, but his taste in literature could be almost absurdly pedestrian.

He gets himself comfortable, exchanging out his day-to-day attire for his silk pajama bottoms and a t-shirt sporting the logo of some rock group he'd seen at a pub once and liked enough to pay actual money for their merchandise. ]

It's not often I keep that sort of pulp around the shop.

[ His romances were usually... heavy on the romance, light on the sauce. ]

But humor on the other hand... Ah, I've got just the thing. Lend me a jiffy.

[ He jumps out of bed and goes downstairs for a moment, coming back and tossing the book on Crowley. It appears to be slightly old, leather-bound from the 1800s. And there's no title or anything on the spine. The sheets are rather thick. In fact, if he opens it, he'll see that it's written in Aziraphale's handwriting.

Or, hm. A messy, drunken version of Aziraphale's handwriting. ]

[ The demon arches and writhes with each touch, contorting in ways not quite possible for humans who aren't missing a rib or two. He's sure he'll feel embarrassed later about how easily (and undemonicly) he comes apart under Aziraphale's soft, deft fingers, but that's later, this is now.

More koala than snake at the moment, Crowley's arms and legs wrap almost instinctively around Aziraphale as his world is turned upside down. For an instance, he feels like he's falling again, and his back hits the soft surface of the mattress and the plump pillows.

What a lovely fall, wrapped so nicely in Aziraphale's embrace. ]

Fffuck, Aziraphale - you feel like a furnace -

[ This is, apparently, a good thing with the way Crowley is wriggling against him, trying to nose into his neck and frantically running hands up and down the soft skin of his back. ]

i can't believe him of all people thinks i smell evil. i'd be almost offended if i thought he were worth the indignation.

[ Will he ever let it go that Sandalphon punched Aziraphale? Probably not. ]

neway u know u've always smelled good to me. 💕

oo we should see if they have those 50s style diners. i hear they're v popular. also roadside tourist traps. i want to see the world's biggest ball of yarn. think how many jumpers it could make.

i make deals w/ u all the time. i'm a demon i'm meant to break rules :) we are p good at that nonverbal thing though. i've got the subtle intricacies of your puppy eyes down to a science.

the aubergine's like like the merlot of texting, there's almost never a bad time to whip one out 😘

[ Crowley complains loudly when Aziraphale scurries off. Something ridiculous about the air being too cold to go without his wonderful body heat and woe is him, abandoned and forgotten, all the while draping himself across the cushions like a forlorn Victorian maiden having a bout of hysteria and fainting. The theatrics stop almost as soon as Aziraphale returns, and he nearly fumbles the catch as the book lands in his arms.

He opens it curiously; a handwritten manuscript of some sort. He wasn't surprised; Aziraphale kept a number of pieces that had never seen a publishing house for one reason or another. But then, it dawns on him just who the writing belongs to, and he looks up at Aziraphale with both love and astonishment. ]

You wrote this...?

[ He beckons for Aziraphale to come back to bed, eager (for once) to read something. His heart is doing that strange thrumming as he skims the thick parchment. ]

[Aziraphale smiles at the comparison between teasing nibbles to the column of Crowley's elegant neck.]

'Love is a spirit all compact of fire. Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.'

[Good old Will, a quote for every occasion. Crowley's writhing reignites his passion, although having already been sated, it's easy for him to concentrate on the demon in his arms, committed to savoring every inch of him. Ignoring the frantic nosing, he kisses lower, along Crowley's collarbone, and then across the flat planes of his chest, paying particular attention to his nipples, making the same sounds that he does during a fine meal. Because what could be finer than the salt of Crowley's skin and the sweetness of his love?]

My dear, you are positively scrummy.

His concept of good and evil is determined by who he's browning his nose for, dear. Don't let it trouble you.

[Aziraphale has managed to let it go, not feeling much of anything towards the archangel, although that is likely because Crowley hates him so very much. Having a loved one indignant on your behalf is a very satisfying feeling.]

Good, my barber will be glad to hear it. ;) One that serves pie, I've heard the pie in America is very good. We can see the giant ball of yarn if you like. We can take a selfie with it. Well, I only had your eyebrows to go by, and yet somehow we managed. Still, I prefer the deals that we make now, they have a bigger payoff. Doesn't it depend on what you pair it with, my dear? Is the peach going to make an appearance, or were you implying something with that kissing face?

Fu-uck - fuck, angel, you can't just -

[ Crowley flails, and gasps, rutting up against the angel's chest as he moves lower. He's leaking, and torn between his blind arousal and being utterly infuriated. ]

You can't just say that! You can't make scrummy a sexy word! Fuck! You're going to say it in the middle of dessert and I'm - I'm going to have associations like Pavlov and his bloody dogs! Only it's not going to be about bells and food, it's going to be about you - ahhh - doing that and the word scrummy!

[ He falls limp and breathless, his brief fury momentarily abated, but given the rocking of his hips, his erection still has a bit of a ways to go. ]

Well, yes. It's the single most ridiculous, terribly soppy, pulp piece of writing that I own.

[ He smiles confidently to hide that he's actually rather nervous on the inside, as he climbs back into bed, and says: ]

I believe I mentioned in passing that I once wrote of you. Of us, while... very drunk and surrounded by other, more talented writers who were sick of my pining, in their words. They encouraged me - they dared me - to write, and so, I did.

And I never looked at it again.

[ He's not actually sure he could read it, with his handwriting getting noticeably worse as the book went on, and with his line of thought meandering and full to bursting of a loved shot through and scarred with denial. ]

that would explain the faint notes of l'eau de excrément from him. and here i thought it was just gabriel.

[ Now he's just being mean. ]

u do know how to pick a good barber

we should get american hamburgers as well. and i know u'd love new england clam chowder. and take selfies with the cornfields too. i hear there's a lot ears out there

i made my eyebrows very expressive for ur benefit. and took my glasses off when we weren't around humans. but yeah, much bigger payoff these days. still rly like knowing exactly what ur thinking by the look u give me though.

might be insinuating that i want 2 kiss u. and i was hoping u'd provide the peach. urs is the sweetest, after all 😜

[The rant is so typically, blessedly Crowley that Aziraphale has to pause a moment to laugh silently into the soft dip just beneath his ribs. He kisses there, mollifying, before propping himself up on his elbows so he can give Crowley a knowing smile.]

Considering how you watch me eat, I think that ship has already sailed.

[Yes, he had noticed. Or at least finally put two and two together. Looking down, he marvels at how Crowley's body responds to him. He runs a finger over the head of Crowley's cock, unable to help himself, catching a bit of pre-come on the tip of his finger and sucking it into his mouth.]

I'll try to think of a better word to describe how good you taste to me, but no promises.

[And with that, he's back to exploring Crowley with his mouth and hands, lower and lower, until he has his tongue sliding up the length of his erection.]

[Far be it from Aziraphale to defend his former boss(es), but this seems a good a time as any to drop the subject. He doesn't want to give them any more of his thoughts, not right now.]

This one in particular has his heart set on finding me the perfect cologne. He's a gem.

I have been wanting to try an authentic American hamburger. Clam chowder sounds good, too. We should get oysters in New England, too. Are you attempting to make a corn-related pun? Don't they sometimes have corn mazes, too?

Thank you for the eyebrow acrobatics, then. I prefer being able to see your eyes. You didn't take them off as often back then, even when we were alone.

I enthusiastically consent to both, as soon as you see fit to return to the bookshop.

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