inlovewithmycar | open post

[It's true that Aziraphale wouldn't normally be flustered over such a thing, but something about Crowley holding it in his hand and grinning has gotten him a bit tongue-tied. Everything is different now. They don't have to dance around certain subjects. Subtext doesn't have to remain subtext, it can be actual text in 96 point font.

It's a lot to process. His mind continues to wrap around it when Crowley brings up another erotic text, but this time he finds his voice, tilting up his chin when he speaks.]

Crowley, I didn't bring you up here to read a book. [Pause.] And of course I have a copy. It's a classic.

[He then returns his attention to the bathroom, which while not nearly as cluttered, has unfortunately accumulated a bit of dust. A quick miracle, and the surfaces return to gleaming, in particular the clawfoot tub that has plenty of room for them both. He smiles at Crowley and gives his cheek a kiss, hoping that it's to his liking.]

I'll go ahead and fill it. I have a number of bath oils on the vanity. Take your pick.

[ Crowley is a very fidgety sort when he's nervous, and so when Aziraphale gives him a task, he's all in, especially because it means getting to poke through the angel's things and he is so very curious. ]

You didn't? I'm astonished, Aziraphale, I really am. Thought we'd do a bit of light reading while we sort each other out.

[ He selects an innocuous carrier oil - he's always taken a liking to sunflower - to use for a base with the rose and lemongrass he's selected. There's the sound of clinking from the vanity as he measures out each quantity - clearly not a stranger to indulging in a nice, long bath himself, and very fussy when it comes to aromatherapy. ]

[Aziraphale huffs and rolls his eyes, although the former is likely drowned out by the sound of running water as he runs the bath. He only needs to fuss with the faucet a little until it's the perfect temperature.]

Books and water are a perilous combination. Besides, I think we'll have our attention on other things.

[He watches Crowley select the oils for their bath, sliding out of his cardigan and hanging it on the hook by the door as he does. The selection meets with his approval. The angel does not tinker with scents as much, although there is a newish bottle of cologne on the counter, the one his barber recommended.]

Which is why I'm sure you're always very careful when you read while having a nice soak?

[ He grins, feeling altogether much too clever, especially when his little mixture gets the Aziraphale Nod of Approval. Might as well be four gold stars as far as Crowley's concerned.

But then his roguish grin melts into something softer. It's rare to see Aziraphale without some kind of coat, the way it's rare Crowley goes without shades. They both have their little pieces of armour to protect them from life's slings and barbs and it feels good to know Aziraphale feels safe enough in his company to let down that particular barrier.

Crowley really could spend the next millennium just drinking in the sight of him - the way the dusty sunlight filtering in through the bathroom plays on light blond curls, the sweet curve of his smile, his lovely manicured hands...

Crowley approaches from behind, planting a soft kiss on the nape of Aziraphale's neck and resting his chin atop his head. ]

Well done. Looks like it's gonna fit the both of us just fine.

A small miracle to keep the hands dry, dear. Works like a charm. [He wiggles his fingers for emphasis.] Although I won't be planning on that with you around.

[It is indeed rare for him to be without a coat, only in the space between hanging up his white jacket when he steps into his shop and switching to his cardigan. His neck has been hidden for even longer, ever since collars were invented, with the addition or a cravat or tie. Buttoned up all the way to the top, a sign of formality that he shouldn't need around Crowley, especially not now.

His hands are fidgeting with his tie, debating removing it himself, when he feels the kiss tickle the back of his neck. He smiles, settling against Crowley's lanky form while his gaze turns to the bathtub.]

Yes, I believe so.

[He turns, facing Crowley, giving him a meaningful look.]

It's nearly half full already. We ought to get ready for it, hmm?

[ The little demonstration gets a huff of laughter from Crowley, and when he teases, his tone is belies his fondness. ]

Sounds very frivolous. What would the other angels say if they knew?

[ His arms snake around Aziraphale's waist as the angel leans back against him and Crowley plants little kisses in those curls and runs a thumb inquisitively over a lower button of Aziraphale's waistcoat. ]

If you're ready then - may I do the honours, angel?

Oh, i'm sure they'd be cross with me. Yet somehow, I can't give a single fig what any of them might have to say on the matter.

[A far cry from the angel who was willing to let himself get discorporated rather than reprimanded again for using another miracle. He smiles, pleased at how far he's come since then, then shivers and sighs softly at that trail of kisses. Crowley's inquiry gets a nod and a hand reaching up to brush against his.]

Yes, please do.

They really should've appreciated you more if they didn't want you falling into the wicked clutches of an unholy terror.

[ This unholy terror nibbles at the rim of Aziraphale's ear and takes his hand in aforementioned wicked clutches, giving it an affectionate squeeze. Truly a monster to be feared.

The waistcoat buttons are undone at a leisurely pace. Crowley is mindful of the old seams and delicate threads holding them in place, and he takes great care not to accidentally launch one into some far-flung corner of the bathroom. Crowley then trails his fingers delicately up the buttoned up front of his dress shirt, coming to rest on the bow tie. ]

...Bit like unwrapping a present, isn't it?

[ Crowley isn't always the most graceful creature, but he does manage to pull the bow tie free in one fluid motion. ]

[Aziraphale suppresses obvious laughter at the 'unholy terror' business, squirming a little before finally settling down again while Crowley takes his time undoing his waistcoat buttons. It's such a sweet gesture, how careful Crowley is with his possessions. With him. His breath catches as those fingers work their way up to his bow tie, and he has to swallow before replying at all.]

You'll have to let me return the favor, then I'll know for sure.

[But that can wait a little while. His hands flutter a bit, uncertain, before reaching back and landing on Crowley's hips, keeping him close while he continues to be undressed.]

[ Guided by Aziraphale's well-manicured hands, Crowley rolls his hips up against that sumptuous tush. He took to nibbling his earlobe, and put on his huskiest, most tempting voice - ]

Angel, you can undress me any time you like.

[ -And then he remembers exactly who he is talking to. He can just picture a mischievous glint in bright blue eyes after being dressed down to his black skivvies in the middle of the Ritz and a plummy voice far too pleased saying "well you did say any time, dear" and decides it best to amend his previous statement. ]

...Any time not in public, I mean.

[Aziraphale lets out a sound halfway between a gasp and a groan, gripping Crowley's hips tightly before deliberately softening his grip. Easy, easy. They have a bath to get to first.

Undressing Crowley anywhere he prefers had not even crossed his mind. Very little is crossing his mind, in fact, hazy from those delightful little nibbles to his ear. But he does chuckle at the amendment, directing Crowley's hands to the buttons of his dress shirt encouragingly.]

There are the matter of your signed pants... but, no, I think I'd prefer to keep all this to myself. But I would like my turn soon, darling, so please do get a wiggle on.]

Colourful turn of phrase, that...

[ Crowley muses as he works his nimble fingers down the cotton shirt, gently flicking open button after button. Sinuous snake that he is, he wriggles his hips again. ]

...Is this what it means?

[ The demon tries to play innocent, but the effect is rather ruined by the leg he just slipped between Aziraphale's thighs, and the fact he's just pulled open the light blue button-down to slide his fingers up Aziraphale's vest. ]

Not -- oh -- literally, you... you wily serpent...

[It's the best he can do, not his usual level of repartee, but Crowley's wriggling hips are too much of a distraction, and those fingers slipping up his vest? Forget it, the angel is done for, absolute putty in the demon's clever, capable hands.

He does have enough sense to check the running bathwater, nearly full. A brief wave of his hand turns off the tap, and then he's tilting his head back, placing a hot kiss on Crowley's jaw.]

But if that's what it takes, my dear, then wiggle on.

Wily I might be, but you're the one who texted that your knickers aren't vintage.

[ The kiss to his jaw elicits a soft, contented sigh, and he returns the gesture by giving the angel in his arms a loving squeeze. ]

Been wondering about that. Been wondering about that a lot.

[ As one hand wanders up the length of Aziraphale's torso to tease his nipples, the other had made its way to the fasten on his trousers, fiddling with the buttons. There is a lot of fiddling, until Crowley realizes it's a job for two hands and with a soft laugh against Aziraphale's cheek, finally begins to work the trousers free. ]

Well, they aren't. Drawers don't fit well under this style of trouser, I had to give up at some point.

[The angel's definition of vintage might extend quite a bit further than Crowley's, possibly into antique territory, although even he knows that calling underwear 'antique' is one of the least sexy things that someone can say.

As Crowley begins exploring his body in earnest, words once more leave Aziraphale. He shuts his eyes and whines softly at the way Crowley teases his nipples -- more of that please -- anticipation curling in his gut as the demon fiddles with his trousers' buttons and finally gets them open. He's wearing plain white briefs and has very obviously made an Effort, his erection straining against the cotton fabric in interest of the proceedings.]

Well. There you have it... plenty of room for your fancy pen to sign.

[ Peering over Aziraphale's shoulder to see just what his angel is sporting, he licks his lips and grins. He tugs at the waistband gently so as not to snap it. ]

Elastic. Positively modern for you.

[ He presses a kiss to his cheek, clearly delighted by this revelation. ]

You're the only person I know who can make a pair of classic white y-fronts look positively sexy.

[ And to emphasize his point, he cups the prominent bulge, rubbing it tenderly through the soft cotton. ]

[Aziraphale is a hair's breadth away from deflecting the compliment, but then Crowley touches him so intimately that all he can do is arch his back and moan. It overwhelms him, not just being rubbed through the soft cotton of his pants, but everything that's come before, the confessions of love and promises of devotion. Crowley's hands. His mouth.

Quick as anything, he turns in Crowley's arms and kisses him hungrily, hands gripping at the jacket's lapels as he pushes Crowley back into the vanity hard enough to rattle the assorted bottles on its surface.]

[ The sudden exclamation from Crowley is lost in Aziraphale's lips. His surprise, however, only lasts until he's up against the vanity, and then he is thoroughly kissing back, just as hungry and wanting.

He drags Aziraphale flush with his body, writhing against him so he can feel the exact effect his outburst has had on Crowley.

Would they ever make it to the tub? The thought is brief and distant and Crowley can't bring himself to worry too much about it as long as Aziraphale keeps touching him. ]

[It is both a relief and intensely arousing to know that he's having the exact same effect on Crowley. And, oh, how Crowley can writhe. It's putting all sorts of filthy images in Aziraphale's mind, things that Nicholson Baker wished he had the skill to properly describe.

Then, rather suddenly, his thoughts catch up with his actions and he breaks off the kiss, panting and flushed all down his chest, looking almost baffled at his behavior.]

Ah! Sorry, I -- I got carried away...

[He smoothes out the lapels beneath his clutches, then pushes at Crowley's jacket, gently but insistently.]

Perhaps we can save the bath for later? The water will keep.

[ Crowley's in a pleasant stupor when Aziraphale pulls away, trying to chase his lips until he realizes the angel is speaking. ]

Carried away...

[ He echoes, blinking slowly until the world comes back into focus. ]

Yeah, no, don't apologize for that, love. Please continue to get carried away. If you've got a bed buried under all these books, I wouldn't object to being carried away there.

[ Prompted by the tug at his lapels, Crowley eagerly shrugs off the jacket, careful not to jostle the various bottles and jars any more than they already had. Aziraphale took such good care of his things, and Crowley is loathe to see any of his treasures damaged again. ]

Like you said, bath'll keep.

[ And even if it didn't, they could always just run a new one. ]

[It takes a moment for Crowley's words -- his offer -- to sink in, and then the angel smiles like sunlight.]

Oh, well... if you insist.

[He takes Crowley's jacket with a gentlemanly flourish and hangs it on the back of the door with his cardigan, then turns and effortlessly scoops Crowley up into his arms, bridal style.]

I do have a bed, as it happens. Shall I take us there? Not a single book upon it, I swear.

[He'll make no promises about the multitude of stacks around it, however.]

[ Crowley gives a 'woop' of surprise when Aziraphale takes him literally. Not that he's complaining - quite the contrary, he throws his arms around the angel's neck and plants a big, soppy kiss on his cheek. ]

My dashing knight ~

[ He thinks back to Aziraphale's days at the round table - he had cut quite a gallant figure in shining armour. ]

Do take me to what I'm sure is a book-free bed. Onward!

[ The next string of kisses he presses to Aziraphale's face are much more tender, accompanied by the a series of sweet nothings about his lovely angel. ]

[No matter the fact that he was literally grinding against Crowley just a few moments ago, it's the soppy kisses and words of endearment that have him blushing like mad. He smiles bashfully and carries Crowley out of the bathroom, careful to keep his gangly body from hitting the door frame.]

I'd be a bit more dashing without my trousers undone...

[He'd argue the whole 'gallant' thing as well. The fur-lined cloak was very nice, but good luck getting him in a clanking suit of armor ever again.

But, it is terribly sweet that Crowley thinks so. And it definitely appeals to his romantic nature to carry his dear demon over the threshold of his bedroom. There is a bed, as promised, Victorian style with soft dove gray sheets and a plethora of pillows against the headboard. Aziraphale sets Crowley upon it, then shrugs out of his open shirt and waistcoat, folding them up and laying them on a dressing chair. (Well, on the books on the dressing chair.) Then he slips out of his trousers, revealing his plain briefs in their full glory, as well as the fact that he's wearing sock garters.]

Make yourself as comfortable as you like, darling.

Oh, I don't know. Lends a bit of a roguish charm to the whole ensemble.

[ With one last nuzzle to Aziraphale's cheek before being set down, Crowley does indeed make himself very comfortable.

He flops back, settling into the mountain of cushions and wriggling around on the divinely soft sheets. The bed certainly meets with the connoisseur of sleep's approval; it's deliciously cozy and he constantly catches Aziraphale's scent in the cushions. He would go so far as to say as there is no other bed he'd rather be in again. ]

Y'know, this bed is rather nice. Have you tried your hand at sleeping?

[ He pops the top few buttons on his functionally useless waistcoat and miracles his trousers off into the ether since there would be no physically getting them off otherwise. This reveals his cherry red boxer briefs, which also have printed across the waistband in Aziraphale's distinct, neat scrawl;

Property of the Principality Aziraphale

Crowley grins, quite content to watch Aziraphale strip down to his skivvies, while leaving the angel's prior handiwork on full display.

The sock garters are a particularly nice touch. Aziraphale always did look like a Leyendecker ad; so prim, proper and utterly sensual. ]

No... I couldn't risk it, not with Gabriel popping over unannounced. Ever vigilant and all that. But I did try reading in bed several times. The humans made it seem very appealing, all nestled under the covers with a book and a small reading light.

[The thought of using it for anything else, particularly with a certain red-haired demon in it, was far out of the realm of possibility until very recently, but reading alone simply wasn't as satisfying, so soon enough the bed became a place to store books like everything else in the flat.

He folds up his trousers and puts them with the rest of his clothes, then turns and finally takes in the sight of Crowley lying in his bed.]

Good Lord... couldn't wait, could you?

[Despite the eye roll, he's clearly pleased by what he sees. He sits down and traces a finger along the writing on Crowley's colorful boxer briefs. Yep, that's definitely his handwriting. He wishes that he could remember that evening better. Bold enough to sign Crowley's pants, but too shy to take it any farther.

He's not going to squander his second chance.

Carefully, he opens the rest of the buttons on Crowley's waistcoat, then slides a hand underneath Crowley's shirt.]

I suppose I should thank you, those trousers are damn near impossible to get off.

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