[ Crowley stares up at Aziraphale in awe, feeling like his heart had just shattered and repaired itself a million times in a few seconds.
Once upon a time, God had spun him from the ether, made him manifest and poured Love into him. At the time he thought he'd know no greater ecstasy, only to be proven wrong when he met Aziraphale.
He thought he loved Aziraphale. For six millennia up until now, he was sure that's what it was. Now he's realizing that was absolutely nothing more than slight infatuation compared to how he feels now, in this moment, when Aziraphale looks at him like that, with his perfect manicured fingers carding through his hair. It was like comparing fireworks to a red giant - and Crowley knowS the difference very well. He's had a hand in both.
If I'm made for anything, he thinks to himself, let it be this. ]
Won't stop, angel. I promise. Anything you want from me, please, let me give it to you.
[ Here Crowley is, on his knees between Aziraphale's legs, praying to the angel. He'd give credit where it's due. Though glad he never met dear old Oscar, the tricky bastard had said it best; Love's a sacrament that should be taken kneeling.
He presses more reverent kisses to Aziraphale's cock until finally his lips rest on the very tip, part, and take him in one smooth motion. ]
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Once upon a time, God had spun him from the ether, made him manifest and poured Love into him. At the time he thought he'd know no greater ecstasy, only to be proven wrong when he met Aziraphale.
He thought he loved Aziraphale. For six millennia up until now, he was sure that's what it was. Now he's realizing that was absolutely nothing more than slight infatuation compared to how he feels now, in this moment, when Aziraphale looks at him like that, with his perfect manicured fingers carding through his hair. It was like comparing fireworks to a red giant - and Crowley knowS the difference very well. He's had a hand in both.
If I'm made for anything, he thinks to himself, let it be this. ]
Won't stop, angel. I promise. Anything you want from me, please, let me give it to you.
[ Here Crowley is, on his knees between Aziraphale's legs, praying to the angel. He'd give credit where it's due. Though glad he never met dear old Oscar, the tricky bastard had said it best; Love's a sacrament that should be taken kneeling.
He presses more reverent kisses to Aziraphale's cock until finally his lips rest on the very tip, part, and take him in one smooth motion. ]