[Aziraphale threads his fingers with Crowley's and holds tight, needing that anchor as his corporation floods with pleasure, threatening to wash him away. The demon is both his tormentor and his salvation, alighting every nerve with his clever lips and tongue, only to pull off of him and leaving a desperate ache in his place. He tugs restlessly with his other hand, but does not try to direct Crowley, trusting that the demon will care for him as he always has.]
My darling, your mouth is a miracle... I'd be so lost without you...
[The stacks of books around him, he thinks heretically, are nothing but wasted paper, now that he knows what it's like to be with the one he loves.]
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My darling, your mouth is a miracle... I'd be so lost without you...
[The stacks of books around him, he thinks heretically, are nothing but wasted paper, now that he knows what it's like to be with the one he loves.]