[ Crowley could taste Aziraphale on the tip of his tongue, his nose and mouth flooded with the comforting scent of him, which spurs him to deepen the kiss.
The arm around Aziraphale's shoulder moves so Crowley can cup the back of his head, buried in those curls that are soft as goose down.
The sound he makes, muffled into Aziraphale's mouth, is pained and yearning, an echo of some soul-deep ache finally soothed by the hand on his cheek and in his wild hair. He dimly thinks of growing it out again, really give the angel something to grab onto.
Parting is brief, just enough so that Crowley can tug Aziraphale's bottom lip between his teeth and get a good look at his face.
He wants to preserve it in his memory like one might press a precious flower between the pages of a book. ]
Aziraphale -
[ His voice sounds thick, and feels like syrup in his throat as his other arm wraps around the angel's middle. ]
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The arm around Aziraphale's shoulder moves so Crowley can cup the back of his head, buried in those curls that are soft as goose down.
The sound he makes, muffled into Aziraphale's mouth, is pained and yearning, an echo of some soul-deep ache finally soothed by the hand on his cheek and in his wild hair. He dimly thinks of growing it out again, really give the angel something to grab onto.
Parting is brief, just enough so that Crowley can tug Aziraphale's bottom lip between his teeth and get a good look at his face.
He wants to preserve it in his memory like one might press a precious flower between the pages of a book. ]
Aziraphale -
[ His voice sounds thick, and feels like syrup in his throat as his other arm wraps around the angel's middle. ]
Fuck, I've wanted to do that for ages now.