[ Crowley gives a weak chuckle. So what if he might have buried himself in flower petals when he had a good wank? Maybe he just has a thing for silky softness, and can anyone actually blame him?
Deciding he'd much rather occupy his mouth with other things than implicate himself in having some rather peculiar fixations, he draws Aziraphale's index finger between his lips, sucking on it gently as his forked tongue curls around the digit.
He's never been so hard as now, watching Aziraphale stroke himself, yellow eyes half-lidded as he drags his fingers down Aziraphale's palm, over the sensitive skin of his wrist, tracing the path of the veins as Crowley feels the thrum of his pulse. ]
[That laugh-that-quite-isn't-one tells Aziraphale a lot, and he turns his head, kissing Crowley's shoulder.]
It's lovely, dear. Truly. Thank you.
[Crowley is doing his best to make Aziraphale comfortable, and the angel appreciates it deeply. Any chance of becoming self-conscious evaporates in the heated look Crowley gives him, and he lets out a soft whine when he feels that clever tongue curl around his finger. It reminds him of Crowley's mouth upon his cock, the very first thing Crowley did to bring him to orgasm, that same burning adoration in the demon's yellow eyes.
He miracles a bit of slick onto his hand and quickens his strokes, hips arching a little off the mattress. Suddenly he's quite close, all thanks to recent memories colliding with the here-and-now of Crowley's touch.]
no subject
Deciding he'd much rather occupy his mouth with other things than implicate himself in having some rather peculiar fixations, he draws Aziraphale's index finger between his lips, sucking on it gently as his forked tongue curls around the digit.
He's never been so hard as now, watching Aziraphale stroke himself, yellow eyes half-lidded as he drags his fingers down Aziraphale's palm, over the sensitive skin of his wrist, tracing the path of the veins as Crowley feels the thrum of his pulse. ]
no subject
It's lovely, dear. Truly. Thank you.
[Crowley is doing his best to make Aziraphale comfortable, and the angel appreciates it deeply. Any chance of becoming self-conscious evaporates in the heated look Crowley gives him, and he lets out a soft whine when he feels that clever tongue curl around his finger. It reminds him of Crowley's mouth upon his cock, the very first thing Crowley did to bring him to orgasm, that same burning adoration in the demon's yellow eyes.
He miracles a bit of slick onto his hand and quickens his strokes, hips arching a little off the mattress. Suddenly he's quite close, all thanks to recent memories colliding with the here-and-now of Crowley's touch.]