inlovewithmycar | open post

[ He knows what Aziraphale is doing and Crowley is having none of it. Aziraphale gets a punitive squeeze to his buttock, as though Crowley is trying to squeeze Heaven's conditioning out of him like an over-saturated sponge. ]

We've been getting it wrong for centuries, and seemed to have managed okay. Must be doing a few things right. Eventually. Where it matters.

[ And that was the important part. They may have both been just as lost and confused as everyone else, but they still managed to figure things out enough to manage. Eventually. When it matters. ]

[Aziraphale yelps at the butt squeeze and retaliates by blowing a raspberry against Crowley's throat. But he's laughing, too, so Crowley must have done the right thing.]

My darling, so long as I can hold you in my arms like this at the end of the day, I'm willing to keep trying.

[ Crowley yelps and fails to suppress a reflexive laugh and a full body spasm. Right, he is definitely more sensitive to Aziraphale's touch than he ever would have suspected.

Not that he minds.

Crowley relaxes again, rubbing a few soothing circles where he squeezed. ]

Angel, there is nowhere I'd rather be than here, just like this.

[Crowley's reaction is delightful enough that Aziraphale is tempted to give him another raspberry, but he refrains. Crowley's cuddling is too precious to interrupt twice.

With a satisfied hum at having his ego (and bottom) soothed, he lays his head back down and lazily strokes Crowley's side.]

Good. I love you, Crowley. Always.

[ Crowley sighs happily. He doesn't think he'll ever tire of those words. Not hearing them. Not saying them.

There's a serpentine ripple of muscle that follows Aziraphale's touch. Crowley had never quite gotten the whole human physique right, and he's quite a bit more bendy than is strictly possible. He's at least aware that adding a few more vertebrae so he could coil his torso around Aziraphale would be far more unsettling than endearing. ]

Love you too, 'Ziraphale. Always.

[ He stretches lazily, yellow eyes drooping a bit. ]

...You sure you don't mind if I kip a bit? Can stay awake if you want company.

[ He slithers suggestively against Aziraphale, grinning. 'Company' could clearly entail quite a few things. ]

Maybe read with you a bit?

[Aziraphale smiles to himself and smooths out those ripples with the palm of his hand. He'd somehow get used to whatever serpentine violations of biology Crowley felt like committing, although it might be better if he simply goes full snake if his goal is to wrap around Aziraphale completely.

He'll never tire of hearing or saying those words, either.]

It's entirely up to you, darling. I could even read to you, if you like. There's no shortage of material up here.

Read to me...

[ Crowley says it almost dreamily, with just a hint of that raw, naked yearning he'd laid bare at Aziraphale's feet earlier. Crowley didn't read much - not that he couldn't, but he didn't derive the same pleasure from it as Aziraphale. But he did love a good audio book, and he loves Aziraphale's voice and Aziraphale reading to him would be just wonderful. Even if it's one of the angel's gloomy favourites, Crowley knows he'd enjoy it. ]

Yess. Please.

[ He grins, yellow eyes bright with mischief. ]

...Should I go grab House of Holes?

[ Sometimes he truly can't help himself. ]

[Even if Aziraphale hadn't already offered, how could he say no to such a request? How many times had he already daydreamed of Crowley curled up against him, or his head in his lap, while Aziraphale turned pages and read to him?]

Of course, dear.

[He lifts his head to kiss Crowley's neck --

-- and immediately gives him another raspberry for the House of Holes comment.]

Now listen here, you cheeky thing. I'm not about to waste my time reading to you silly sexual scenarios when you've already proven to me that the real deal is infinitely better.

[His expression shifts from faux stern to quietly optimistic.]

I have a collection of poems by Pablo Neruda that you might like. May I read you those?

[ Crowley can feel his cheeks stretching. He hasn't laughed and smiled so much since - ever. To say he's giddy would be an understatement. ]

Alright, angel, you win. Pablo Nerudo it is. But mark my words, I'll get you to read something raunchy one day - maybe help put us in the mood.

[ Not that Crowley needs any help on that front. He tends to be in the mood whenever Aziraphale so much as flutters his eyelashes vaguely in his direction. ]

[Aziraphale wiggles his hips a little, looking up at Crowley smugly.]

I hardly think we need reading material to put us in the mood, dear. But I'll be sure to humor you, at least once. Just not tonight. Now then, let me fetch the Neruda...

[Which happens to conveniently be sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, along with those silly little reading glasses that he doesn't actually need. With only a little stretching, he's able to retrieve both without moving away from Crowley. A bit of repositioning, and Crowley is the one cuddled up against him while he slips on the glasses and flips through the book.]

Let's see... there's one in particular I'd -- Ah, here it is:

'I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.'"

[ It amazes him what little human things they adopt over time. Things they don't need, and yet want all the same. Crowley adores Aziraphale's glasses. Very smart and fancy little things, and just that touch of very human vanity.

He holds Aziraphale close as he reads, chin on his shoulder as his eyes follow along with each line (Though eventually only focusing on Aziraphale's lips).

The poem hits all too close, Crowley's throat tightening as he swallows his emotions down, and his arms around Aziraphale tighten. There are few things Crowley regrets about his Fall (however much the sheer principle of it still pains him) but there are moments where he has to wonder what an agony it must have been for Aziraphale, a being made to love, loving something deemed - well - utterly unworthy of it. That to do so is akin to treason, and so had to be kept in the peripherals of their lives. Some furtive secret, a vast and utterly unspoken thing.

He presses kisses into Aziraphale's shoulder and throat and cheek, to remind him how loved and adored he is. ]

Bit on the nose wasn't he? That Neruda bloke.

[ Crowley's attempts to sound unaffected fall utterly short. He's talking around a very obvious lump in his throat, and his gaze is terribly soft. ]

[The angel's voice is soft and steady while he reads, but only because he has nearly memorized the words in the relatively short time that he has owned this book of poetry. It hit him much the same way it hits Crowley, the description of a love that blossoms below the surface.]

Well, yes, that's why I'm so fond of his work.

[He hears the emotion in Crowley's voice, and quickly turns his head to return those kisses, one hand leaving the book to cup the demon's cheek reassuringly while he does so.]

This one in particular was a great comfort to me once I realized that I was in love with you. It made it easier somehow, knowing that my love did not have to be a great big showy thing for it to be real or have meaning.

[It was agony, at times, to keep that love all bottled up within himself, but he couldn't risk Crowley's most assured destruction.]

There are others, more sensual than this one. [He steals another small kiss, thumb brushing over Crowley's cheekbone.] Would you like me to read them?

[ As his cheek is cupped, Crowley nuzzles into the palm of Aziraphale's hand. He's always loved the angel's hands. Truly, there isn't an inch of Aziraphale he doesn't adore, but his hands have always been so expressive. The softness of them, the lovely manicures, and the way he clasps them together as though to keep them from fluttering about the way they do when he doesn't feel such a need to keep up appearances...

Crowley presses a kiss to the palm and nods. ]

Would love to hear what he might consider saucy.

[ He relaxes again, his knuckles idly grazing up and down Aziraphale's side. ]

...And your love, it doesn't have to be showy or flashy now. Not if you don't want it to be. It's enough.

[Aziraphale's eyelids flutter at the kiss on his palm. Such a simple gesture, and yet so profound, that they can touch one another like this, so easily and without restraint. He already knows he'll be clasping his hands together a lot less, if his instinct is to reach for Crowley instead.]

I can only love you as I know how, Crowley, with all the surety of the sun rising in the east and the moon pulling the tides. The only difference is that I won't keep it a secret from anyone.

[He pulls Crowley in for one more kiss, then finally drops his hand so that he flip through the pages of his book.]

I can't promise 'saucy', but I'm rather fond of this one:

'I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.'

[He pauses in his reading to take one of Crowley's hands and kiss each one of his fingernails in playful demonstration.]

'I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.'

Bit of a poet yourself, angel.

[ Crowley hums his delight as he's kissed, and folds his arms around Aziraphale's waist as the angel reads.

This one is decidedly spicy, given how Aziraphale eats. Putting bits of cooked plant and animal matter in ones mouth should definitely not even be remotely in the vicinity of eroticism Aziraphale takes things to, but this is how life is. Aziraphale putting his mouth to Crowley, making those sounds - House of Holes has nothing on the idea of Aziraphale looking at Crowley the same way he looks at a perfect creme brulee, enjoying him piece by piece, relishing the demon's fingers on his tongue, the slow slide of lips, a sharp nip to all his vulnerable spots.

Crowley stifles a moan into the Aziraphale's neck. ]

Definitely saucier than you seem to think. Well done, I want to drench myself in chocolate sauce and sprawl out on a silver platter.

You bring it out of me, dear.

[He won't mention all the times he put pen to paper, scribbling out a few lines in the style of his favorite authors, scratching and tossing each one because they hit too close to home to feelings that he needed to keep locked up tight. It's too sad a thought, now that he has Crowley here, warm and vibrant with his arms around his waist, and besides, Neruda says it better than he ever could.

Crowley seems to be enjoying the poem, too, a lot more than the angel could have predicted. His breath catches at the demon's reply and he sets the book aside so that he can hold onto Crowley's hand with both of his.]

Oh... well, I certainly wouldn't be opposed to that...

[He brings Crowley's hand to his mouth once more, sucking on the tips of his fingers as if they're already covered in chocolate.]

Sauce or not, you're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted.

[ Crowley highly doubts that anything would ever ring so true as the angel's own words, but at least Neruda is hitting close to home.

A delightful shiver runs up and down his spine as soon as his fingers make contact with Aziraphale's lips and tongue and that sweet gentle pressure as the digits are lightly sucked.

Crowley feels dizzy, disoriented, and so terribly soft as he spoons Aziraphale close to him. His lips seek out the rim of Aziraphale's ear, flicking his tongue over it, before capturing the lobe between his teeth. When he trusts himself to say more than just a string of incoherent syllables, Crowley nuzzles up against Aziraphale's temple and manages; ]

Could definitely say the same about you.

[Aziraphale continues to taste Crowley's hand, kissing each one of his knuckles and tracing his tongue along the lifeline of his palm. He presses his lips against the inside of his wrist, trembling softly in Crowley's embrace. So many places to touch and bring pleasure, too innumerable to list, but the angel wants to find them all.]

Mmm... good...

[There's little else he can say in return, not while recovering from Crowley's mouth upon his ear. He puts the book back on the nightstand, his little glasses following.]

I don't think I can read any more, my dear... not when you're distracting me so...

[ Crowley seems to have taken quite an interest in the little dip right behind where Aziraphale's ear connects with his jaw. The demon is being very thorough with his tongue, humming his agreement that yes, he is indeed being very distracting, but who is, in fact, pressing such soft, tender kisses to his hand and wrist, hmm?

But Crowley has always like distracting Aziraphale. A box of chocolates here, a good vintage there, the occasional dinner that became more and more frequent...

Crowley kisses along Aziraphale's throat and sucks a mark right at the juncture of his neck and shoulders. ]

You sure it's a distraction? Because I think this has rather been the focus of the evening.

[ Of the majority of Crowley's existence really - he can barely recall a time he didn't love Aziraphale, and that was only because he didn't know the angel even existed yet. ]

[If Crowley is going to insist on using his clever mouth to continue to distract Aziraphale, then the angel feels entirely justified in reclaiming Crowley's hand and pressing hot little kisses all the way from his wrist to the soft divot of his inner elbow.]

I thought you were tired. Is this how you fall asleep?

[His teasing tone gives way to a thready whine when Crowley sucks a mark onto his neck, one he has no intention of vanishing with a miracle. He turns in the demon's arms and kisses him properly.]

I'll tell you a little secret, dear. If it's a choice between you and my books, you'll always win.

Wouldn't ever make you choose.

[ Because Crowley sees no reason why Aziraphale should ever have to for starters. But then, Crowley never saw much reason why people should be without what or whom they love beyond some nebulous idea like ineffability.

He melts into the kiss, pulling Aziraphale into his arms, pondering over the question. It definitely wasn't ever how he fell asleep before - Crowley isn't exactly one to be inviting strangers to his bed, after all, but mentioning that he's always slept alone feels like it may just kill this rather nice mood. Breaking from the kiss, he flicks his tongue over Aziraphale's lips. ]

...Buuuut if you're reading in bed, I might just have to distract you sometimes.

[It's yet another reason why Aziraphale finds himself so helplessly in love with Crowley. He meant what he said, though. There's really no contest between a book and this newfound intimacy between them. If he can combine the two sometimes, like he just did with poetry, then more the better.

Aziraphale opens his mouth to the tongue flicking, unabashedly taking what is offered a second time.]

I suppose, if needs must. So long as I can distract you from your phone when I'm feeling peckish.

[ Crowley pulls back a bit from investigating every interesting crevice of Aziraphale's mouth with his tongue, and bumps his forehead affectionately against the angel's. ]

What? And stop me from starting another twitter war? Perish the thought!

[ There's a flurry of motion from Crowley, who is so rarely still, even when he's lethargic or sleepy. He wriggles dramatically against Aziraphale, arms snaking up and down his torso as the demon finds some new, slightly different angle to get comfortable. ]

I suppose I can make an exception though. Sometimes.

[ As though 'sometimes' didn't mean 'always, yes, please feel free to distract me any time'. ]

[Aziraphale only knows vaguely what Crowley is referring to with this 'twitter war' business. Something to do with people arguing with one another on the internet. which he's more than happy to leave to Crowley. He bumps back and chuckles in amusement.]

I may not need to thwart your wiles any longer, but old habits die hard, my dear.

[His amusement continues when Crowley treats him like a pillow that he needs to more effectively cuddle up against. He readjusts his arms around the demon in turn, maximizing their comfort.]

Duly noted. If you come across any endearing animal photos in the midst of one of your twitter wars, please send them my way. You know I like those.

[It's about all the internet is good for, is the conclusion he's come to.]

[ There's a soft chuckle from Crowley. Ah, yes, ever since 'I can has cheeseburger', Crowley has been gradually trying to chip away at Aziraphale's aversion to modern technology. He'll have to gradually start showing him food blogs and the DIY section of YouTube. ]

You know, I'm really not sure if I should take you 'thwarting my wiles' as the innuendo it always sounded like...

[ Crowley has always suspected Aziraphale would be warm and comfortable to cuddle up to, but he never dreamed the reality would so thoroughly trump the fantasy. It's hard to find an angle he likes best. ]

'Get thee behind me foul fiend'? As if you'd ever have to ask.

[ He doesn't squeeze Aziraphale's bum, but the palm of his hand ghosts over the swell of his buttocks so the angel gets the picture. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject