[Aziraphale, loving bastard that he is, merely looks up from the feathers with a smile before resuming his tender kisses and teasing touches. Crowley doesn't need to put into words how attention to this particular spot is driving him absolutely wild. He switches to scapulars on the other wing, his own wings draping over Crowley's, feathers brushing against feathers.]
You can take your pleasure if you like, darling. Don't hold back on my account.
[He murmurs this between kisses, one of his hands sliding down to swell of Crowley's backside, pushing him gently, but firmly against the bed, encouraging him to rut into the pillow.]
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You can take your pleasure if you like, darling. Don't hold back on my account.
[He murmurs this between kisses, one of his hands sliding down to swell of Crowley's backside, pushing him gently, but firmly against the bed, encouraging him to rut into the pillow.]