[ Just the feeling of Aziraphale's mouth on his throat is more than perfect as far as Crowley is concerned, and he bears it readily while untucking Aziraphale's shirt to snake his fingers up his back. ]
Can't see a downside to either but - ah - yeah - that'sss good. Keep doing that, never ssstop -
[ Crowley rolls his hips upwards, rubbing Aziraphale's back, kneading his fingers into soft flesh and surprisingly sturdy muscle. ]
[Aziraphale obliges, his mouth back on Crowley's neck where he sucks another love bite to match the first.]
Both, then. All the better to pass the time.
[He squirms in Crowley's lap, already affected by that deft touch underneath his shirt. His intention was to pamper Crowley this evening, but if Crowley wants to reciprocate, he's not about to say no. There's the rest of the hair care regimen to look forward to, anyway. His hands wander over those bare, slender arms as he nuzzles against Crowley's neck.]
You know, if you're waiting at the barbershop, they only give you a magazine to read.
You see? Just adding to the list of reasons why you're a thousand times better than any barber.
[ His breath hitches in his throat, right where Aziraphale nuzzles him. How could a body be this sensitive...? He swore it had to be something to do with Aziraphale because being touched had never felt like this except in his arms. ]
D'you remember what I texted you about before? About seeing if our essences are compatible as the rest of us...?
[That draws a chuckle out of the angel, who kisses up and down Crowley's neck, delighted in giving Crowley special treatment. But rather suddenly he stops, breath warm against the demon's throat, tightening his embrace.]
Yes, I remember.
[He lifts his head to look at Crowley, his eyebrows drawn together and lower lip caught between his teeth in worry. He hadn't expected Crowley to revisit the idea so soon.]
You wanted to try that now? Is that -- do you think this is a good time for it?
[Aziraphale relaxes at Crowley's touch, even before he's drawn in for a kiss. It's safe to start with their wings, they've brought those close together before. And Aziraphale has been itching for an excuse to see Crowley's wings again, maybe even brush through them with his fingers.
It'll be a bit before he says so, accepting the invitation of Crowley's sweet, open mouth first and needing his tongue for other things. Finally, he sits back again, licking his own lips and looking much more approving of the idea.]
You've convinced me, dear. Just -- do be careful. There's only so much room in here for our wings.
[ Crowley grins in that way he sometimes does when Aziraphale agrees to something the demon wants to do but doesn't want to come off too eager. ]
Right. Yeah. Of course. No breaking your things.
[ Not that he would ever. Aside from the fact that Aziraphale could be an absolute terror to anyone who dared to mishandle his books, Crowley would never want to damage the things Aziraphale cherished.
Slowly, Crowley's wings unfurl. They're the one part of him that had remained virtually unchanged from the time before his Fall. She had seen fit, in all Her infinite wisdom, to tear him apart, make him crawl in the dirt (at least until he got a human corporation) and eat ash (at least until he'd discovered apples, among other things). But his wings remained untouched, sleek, glossy and black as they'd always been. Perhaps She'd been too busy with the other demons to think about clipping them permanently and Crowley wasn't about to march back and complain about a possible error.
He'd always wanted to wrap Aziraphale in them, cradle him in the very part of him that still gave off warmth. The part of him that was still whole, and not some carefully pieced together patchwork of some fallen thing that had shattered on impact.
So he does, holding Aziraphale close and folding his wings around him. ]
Been ages since I last flew. Reckon we could find some open place some time and do a few swoops and dives?
[If Aziraphale felt that it was too dangerous to even try, he would have stood his ground. (See: 105 years of his opinion on giving Crowley holy water.) But this? He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to try.
And so, when Crowley unfurls his wings, he watches with a soft-eyed wonder. It never tires, to see Crowley's wings. They truly are magnificent, although he'd disagree that the rest was somehow less than worthy. He thought so even the first time that they met, atop the wall of Eden. Heaven had insisted that demons were ugly creatures, twisted by their evil nature, and it was true that most other demons were unpleasant to look at (and smell, in Hastur's case), but not Crowley.
He makes a sound of surprise that quickly turns to one of deep contentment when those warm, sleek wings fold around him. He reaches out with a hand, pausing millimeters from those shiny black feathers, gaze shifting to Crowley's eyes, seeking permission.]
i haven't flown in ages, either. You'd... like to do that with me? [He laughs self-consciously.] You have to promise not to tease me if I can't keep up. Always been a bit of a slowpoke in the skies.
[ It feels wonderful to hold Aziraphale in both his arms and his wings. There is a comfort in feeling his warm weight and the flutter of his human heart against him as he cards his fingers through the angel's hair. He nods in response to Aziraphale's question. As if there were any answer other than Yes. Yes, he thinks, please touch me.]
Always been a bit of a slowpoke anyway. Always stopping to smell the roses and sample local cuisine.
[ He grins ever so fondly. ]
Can't see anything wrong with being a bit of a slowpoke.
[The nod is all he needs to let himself finally brush his fingertips along the grain of Crowley's feathers, marveling at how soft and sleek they are. So much like his own, the color only a superficial difference. He touches them with reverence, stroking along the secondaries and the normally tucked away coverts.]
Beautiful as always... you take such good care of them, my dear...
[He tilts his head into Crowley's touch, matching that fond grin with one of his own. He leans in and places a kiss on Crowley's nose.]
I always do manage to catch up, eventually, don't I?
[ Crowley opens his mouth with that confident expression he has when he has some witty retort about 'when it counts' or 'after a bit of nudging and goading with lunch', but the words die instantly in his throat as he tosses his head back and moans.
Right then. He was expecting Aziraphale touching his wings to feel good. Aziraphale touching him anywhere at all tends to hit somewhere on a scale of amazing to mind-stoppingly incredible. But this?
This is something else altogether - like he can practically feel Aziraphale ever so close to the very essence of him. ]
That wasss - yeah, definitely good, nearly had me down with a case of divine ecstasy.
[ He ruffles his feathers, just so Aziraphale can have an easier time, maybe get those exquisite fingers of his on the fluffy down underneath. He's really having his doubts now that their essences are incompatible. If anything, it's seeming more and more likely to be quite the opposite of what they'd been led to believe. ]
Want to do yours too? It feels - I don't know, whited out for a second. In a good way.
[Thankfully Aziraphale has experience with what a good moan sounds like from Crowley, or else he'd be panicking a bit over his reaction. Instead, he smiles like a cat that got into the cream, sneaking his fingers between the ruffled feathers and tickling the fluffy down beneath.]
Wasn't sure I'd ever hear you make that noise outside of the bedroom.
[He explores more with both hands, trailing them up along the marginal coverts and then over his back to the tiny overlapping feathers where the wings themselves emerge. He loves how it feels, like running his fingers through Crowley's hair, but with Crowley's essence pulsing underneath. He feels so warm and safe that it is only with a little hesitation that he nods in response to Crowley's request.]
All right. Hold me steady? I don't want to fall out of your lap.
[Slowly, he manifests his wings. Brilliantly white, he keeps them mostly tucked up against his back, carefully extending one so that Crowley can touch it with his hand, or his wing.]
[ Crowley buries his face in the crook of Aziraphale's neck after being incapable of salvaging some semblance of dignity because every touch elicits either another moan, or some deep, contented sound in him. He's never let anyone else touch his wings and Aziraphale seems to know exactly Still, he holds the angel steady on his lap, one arm at the small of his back, the other around his shoulders, leaving plenty of room for him to let his wings free.
And oh, they are ever so lovely. He watches them unfold and he's put in mind of white gardenias; one of the few flowering plants he grew. White and fluffy and just a bit unkempt, and his fingers itch to give them a good preening. There was something about the intimacy of all of it - these parts of them they kept hidden now all laid bare in the comfort of Aziraphale's bathroom. They're mostly dressed, but Crowley feels just as naked as every time they've been intimate.
With great care, he extends his wing to very tentatively brush with the tip of his longest primary flight feather, quickly retracting it. There are no sparks, no bursts of flames or the ripping of the time space continuum. It does send a pleasant shiver through him though, and Crowley extends his wing again for more extended contact.
He grins when nothing catches fire, and tenderly massages the feathery joints at Aziraphale's shoulders. ]
Look at us. So far so good, yeah?
[ Maybe it was because what everyone thought they knew about angels and demons wasn't actually accurate. Maybe it was just because he and Aziraphale weren't pure Good or unadulterated Evil. Maybe a combination of both or there were just other factors at play. Either way, these parts of them could, at the very least, touch without setting off anything too catastrophic beyond whatever was going on in Crowley's trousers. ]
[It has been a very, very long time since anyone had touched Aziraphale's wings, and even then it was perfunctory and clinical, another member of the heavenly host simply tucking unkempt feathers back into their pristine order. Not since Heaven has he let anyone other than himself touch them, and it does show in the few spots that ought to be preened. The fluffiness suits him, though, matching his hair and soft appearance. It makes them all the more inviting.
When Crowley brushes the tip of his wing to Aziraphale's, the angel gasps, but it is not out of pain. Quite the opposite, in fact, and when Crowley extends his wing again, he eagerly meets it, his wings unfurling further so that more feathers can brush up against one another. If he had to put words to the feeling, he'd describe it as like coming into a hearth-warmed home from the cold, but it is far more sensual than that. He drops his forehead to Crowley's, exhaling with a groan when the demon's hands began massaging his feathery joints.]
Yes... quite good...
[He's grateful for Crowley's arms around him as he adjusts his weight in Crowley's lap to re-balance himself. He feels the effect of their intimacy on Crowley and bites back a giggle.]
Someone appears to be enjoying our little experiment. What do you say, when it's time to rinse your hair, we do that in the bath instead of sitting just outside it?
[ Crowley works his fingers through Aziraphale's feathers, smoothing the ones that seemed like they'd be uncomfortably out of place. He cherished those rare times he got to see the angel's wings - wings that had sheltered him from the first rains on Earth, the first real act of kindness Crowley had experienced since his fall. So he's careful with them, the way he's always been careful with Aziraphale.
As their wings maintain contact, whatever lingering tension drains from him. Nothing to be done about his cock, though. It seems to have a mind of it's own own as far as Aziraphale is concerned. ]
'Course I'm enjoying myself. M'with you.
[ He had his arms and lap full of Aziraphale, with their foreheads pressed together, gazing into one another's eyes like a pair of juvenile star-crossed lovers. He's sure the smile on his face is very undemonic and he can't bring himself to care. ]
And that sounds like an excellent idea. Very tempting. I can give your wings a proper preening.
[For every feather that Crowley smooths back into place, Aziraphale relaxes that much more, slumping against Crowley and making small, contented sounds. Not only do his wings feel better, but Crowley's careful touch feels like it's melting away the worried tangles within his very essence. He's never had his wings handled with such love; it make his very soul sing.]
I'm enjoying myself, too.
[He caresses the tops of Crowley's wings to demonstrate, pressing into Crowley's erection while he does so, his smile turning mischievous.]
You can preen my wings all you like, but only after I take care of you first.
[He means Crowley's hair, but he'd like to take care of all of him if the demon will allow it.]
[ It's a rare treat to feel Aziraphale relax so much in his arms. They were both wound tight, but Crowley always thought Aziraphale carried it more. He was the one with more to lose, after all, and Heaven was full of picky perfectionists. Even now, when they can let some of those defenses down, old habits die hard.
So Crowley savours the moment and holds him close, hands running up and down his spine and combing through his feathers. Less grooming and more of a massage. ]
'Course. I do love when you take care of me.
[ It seems Crowley understood the unspoken implication - that this is about a bit more than looking after his hair, and that Aziraphale has the demon's bles- go-ahead to indulge to his heart's content. ]
You've always done so well, keeping us safe, yeah? You know I trust your judgment.
[Where being close (physically or otherwise) was once a source of anxiety -- fear of getting caught, fear of Crowley being punished for it, fear of admitting to himself the depth of his feelings -- now it is only Crowley that can truly relax him. He nuzzles into Crowley's neck like an overgrown house cat, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along the edges of Crowley's feathers.]
Good. You beat me to the punch far too often. Not that I'm complaining, mind you...
[He sits up again and stretches his wings, smiling blissfully when they brush up against Crowley's. He's about to recommend that they move onto the bath when Crowley speaks again. It silences his thoughts and leaves him looking at the demon a touch wide-eyed. It's one thing to know that Crowley trusts him, another thing to hear it spoken aloud.]
For over six thousand years, my dear. Of course, it helps that Gabriel could never see past his own ego. [His smile turns somewhat bashful as he brushes back a slick lock of Crowley's hair.] I trust yours, too, you know. We'd never have gotten to have this, otherwise.
[ Aziraphale trusts him too - it hits Crowley right in his already battered heart, and his expression goes soft and fond as he gazes at the angel nuzzling into his neck.
As their wings brush again, Crowley exhales, accompanied by a low, contented sound. Oh yes, he thinks, they're definitely going to have to explore this in greater detail. Eventually he manages a weak chuckle. ]
Can you blame me though? The way you light up when you're happy - got kind of addicted to just finding new ways to do it.
[ And Crowley likes very much to see Aziraphale happy. It warmed his heart just to have those moments together, where even their work couldn't interfere. ]
It does help our former employers were thick as shit though. Now, how do you want me, love?
[Aziraphale drops his gaze only to raise it again, slowly, smiling in that way he does when he's trying (and failing) not to show how smitten he is by something that Crowley has said.]
Well, I must be lit up all the time these days, because of you.
[He leans in for another kiss and briefly considers what it would be like to brush his lips over Crowley's wings, but ultimately decides that might be a bit too much, too soon. They have time to explore this particular type of intimacy.
Crowley's question makes him chuckle and look the demon over, eyes twinkling.]
Oh, I can think of more than a few ways... in the bath, for starters. With our wings put back away -- for a little while -- so there's more room to work with.
[He slides off Crowley's lap to make it easier for both of them to get undressed. As he tucks his wings back into the astral plane, he notices what a difference it makes to have even those few feathers that Crowley preened now resting where they belong.]
[ Still tingling pleasantly from the contact with Aziraphale's wings, Crowley obediently folds his own as they fade from this plane of reality, and gets his remaining clothes off. ]
Your wish is my command, angel.
[ Sinking into the hot water, he rests his arms on the rim and pillows his chin in his folded hands, watching Aziraphale undress with great interest. Despite the tension in his groin and his eagerness to have Aziraphale back in his arms, he feels uncharacteristically serene. It's comfortable in the hot water, old aches seeping out of his corporation's bones, his many thousands of years of anxieties draining from him in the comfort and safety of Aziraphale's shop.
He grins lazily, flicking a bit of water in Aziraphale's direction. ]
C'mon, sweetheart. Join me. Water's lovely and there's plenty of room.
[Aziraphale would roll his eyes if he knew that Crowley wasn't absolutely serious about fulfilling his wishes. The thought gives him butterflies, or perhaps it's the way Crowley so casually undresses himself before getting into the bath, a figure of lithe beauty that Aziraphale can't seem to get enough of.
He undresses himself slowly, distracted by the image before him, until Crowley flicks water at him and startles him out of his little trance.]
Hey!
[There's no bite to his reprimand, just laughter as he shakes himself and removes the rest of his clothes much more efficiently. He's as aroused as Crowley, which he doesn't bother to hide as he steps into the bath, positioning himself behind Crowley and sighing appreciatively at the water's temperature.]
Lean back, love. I'll wash your hair. Twice, you had said?
[ Crowley drinks his fill of the sight of Aziraphale, forked tongue flicking out to lick his lips. In Crowley's (not so) humble opinion, there is nothing quite as sexy as Aziraphale naked, aroused, and full of mirth.
He shifts his bony hips aside so Aziraphale can get in and make himself comfortable, and then settles down between his thighs, leaning back as instructed. He angles his head just so to plant a trail of tender kisses along Aziraphale's cheek, clearly quite happy to make himself comfortable in the angel's lap. ]
Twice, yeah. First to get the oil out and then to condition it. Just a dab of shampoo too. 'Bout the size of a quid.
[ Idly, he strokes Aziraphale's thigh under the water. He feels so at ease nestled up against him, his ever-present anxieties fled to the darkest corners of the shop. ]
Then dab it off with a towel when we're done in here and comb out any tangles. Which there might be, given your penchant for holding on.
[ Crowley leers, looking ever so pleased about the prospect. ]
[It's impossible not to be the latter two when in Crowley's presence, and the first has become a regular occurrence for the angel, who has become quite comfortable in that state around the demon. He smiles as Crowley settles, quietly marveling at how easily they fit together. The coconut oil smears on him as Crowley leans back to kiss him, and he huffs in amusement while reaching for the bottle of shampoo, conveniently placed where he doesn't have to stretch to get it.]
I'm going to need to rinse myself off, at this rate.
[He pours out a quid's worth of shampoo, as instructed, and then begins massaging it into Crowley's hair. The lather has a clean, fresh scent, nothing too perfume-y or overpowering. Crowley's leer is returned with a look of faux innocence as he tugs ever so slightly on his soapy locks.]
Considering all the lovely sounds you make when I do, it's no wonder that I've acquired the habit.
[ It's becoming a well-known fact between them that witty repartee is right out the window the second Aziraphale gets his hands in Crowley's hair. Quite miraculous really - what mischief Crowley wouldn't have gotten up to if either of them had known this fact centuries before. And what mischief they would have gotten into.
Probably for the best. They'd never have gotten anything else done otherwise. ]
S'supposed to be good for your skin. Coconut oil. Good for - for all sortsa ssstuff.
[ Crowley had gone into that boneless, relaxed state, where he's slurring and hissing his words. His fingers are still idly tracing a pattern up and down Aziraphale's thigh, but they've slowed, as Crowley's practically melted into the angel's arms. ]
Hmmmgh - s'good, love. Your hands. Always so good.
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Can't see a downside to either but - ah - yeah - that'sss good. Keep doing that, never ssstop -
[ Crowley rolls his hips upwards, rubbing Aziraphale's back, kneading his fingers into soft flesh and surprisingly sturdy muscle. ]
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Both, then. All the better to pass the time.
[He squirms in Crowley's lap, already affected by that deft touch underneath his shirt. His intention was to pamper Crowley this evening, but if Crowley wants to reciprocate, he's not about to say no. There's the rest of the hair care regimen to look forward to, anyway. His hands wander over those bare, slender arms as he nuzzles against Crowley's neck.]
You know, if you're waiting at the barbershop, they only give you a magazine to read.
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[ His breath hitches in his throat, right where Aziraphale nuzzles him. How could a body be this sensitive...? He swore it had to be something to do with Aziraphale because being touched had never felt like this except in his arms. ]
D'you remember what I texted you about before? About seeing if our essences are compatible as the rest of us...?
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Yes, I remember.
[He lifts his head to look at Crowley, his eyebrows drawn together and lower lip caught between his teeth in worry. He hadn't expected Crowley to revisit the idea so soon.]
You wanted to try that now? Is that -- do you think this is a good time for it?
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Maybe just the tips of our wings to start. Worst case scenario is a couple of singed feathers and knowing not to try it again.
[ He reaches up, cupping Aziraphale's chin, stroking his jaw with his thumb. ]
If you don't want to, s'fine, we'll find a better time for it.
[ He tilts his head up, pressing a soft kiss to Aziraphale's mouth. And another, and then another, until he parts his lips to invite the angel in. ]
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It'll be a bit before he says so, accepting the invitation of Crowley's sweet, open mouth first and needing his tongue for other things. Finally, he sits back again, licking his own lips and looking much more approving of the idea.]
You've convinced me, dear. Just -- do be careful. There's only so much room in here for our wings.
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Right. Yeah. Of course. No breaking your things.
[ Not that he would ever. Aside from the fact that Aziraphale could be an absolute terror to anyone who dared to mishandle his books, Crowley would never want to damage the things Aziraphale cherished.
Slowly, Crowley's wings unfurl. They're the one part of him that had remained virtually unchanged from the time before his Fall. She had seen fit, in all Her infinite wisdom, to tear him apart, make him crawl in the dirt (at least until he got a human corporation) and eat ash (at least until he'd discovered apples, among other things). But his wings remained untouched, sleek, glossy and black as they'd always been. Perhaps She'd been too busy with the other demons to think about clipping them permanently and Crowley wasn't about to march back and complain about a possible error.
He'd always wanted to wrap Aziraphale in them, cradle him in the very part of him that still gave off warmth. The part of him that was still whole, and not some carefully pieced together patchwork of some fallen thing that had shattered on impact.
So he does, holding Aziraphale close and folding his wings around him. ]
Been ages since I last flew. Reckon we could find some open place some time and do a few swoops and dives?
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And so, when Crowley unfurls his wings, he watches with a soft-eyed wonder. It never tires, to see Crowley's wings. They truly are magnificent, although he'd disagree that the rest was somehow less than worthy. He thought so even the first time that they met, atop the wall of Eden. Heaven had insisted that demons were ugly creatures, twisted by their evil nature, and it was true that most other demons were unpleasant to look at (and smell, in Hastur's case), but not Crowley.
He makes a sound of surprise that quickly turns to one of deep contentment when those warm, sleek wings fold around him. He reaches out with a hand, pausing millimeters from those shiny black feathers, gaze shifting to Crowley's eyes, seeking permission.]
i haven't flown in ages, either. You'd... like to do that with me? [He laughs self-consciously.] You have to promise not to tease me if I can't keep up. Always been a bit of a slowpoke in the skies.
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Always been a bit of a slowpoke anyway. Always stopping to smell the roses and sample local cuisine.
[ He grins ever so fondly. ]
Can't see anything wrong with being a bit of a slowpoke.
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Beautiful as always... you take such good care of them, my dear...
[He tilts his head into Crowley's touch, matching that fond grin with one of his own. He leans in and places a kiss on Crowley's nose.]
I always do manage to catch up, eventually, don't I?
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Right then. He was expecting Aziraphale touching his wings to feel good. Aziraphale touching him anywhere at all tends to hit somewhere on a scale of amazing to mind-stoppingly incredible. But this?
This is something else altogether - like he can practically feel Aziraphale ever so close to the very essence of him. ]
That wasss - yeah, definitely good, nearly had me down with a case of divine ecstasy.
[ He ruffles his feathers, just so Aziraphale can have an easier time, maybe get those exquisite fingers of his on the fluffy down underneath. He's really having his doubts now that their essences are incompatible. If anything, it's seeming more and more likely to be quite the opposite of what they'd been led to believe. ]
Want to do yours too? It feels - I don't know, whited out for a second. In a good way.
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Wasn't sure I'd ever hear you make that noise outside of the bedroom.
[He explores more with both hands, trailing them up along the marginal coverts and then over his back to the tiny overlapping feathers where the wings themselves emerge. He loves how it feels, like running his fingers through Crowley's hair, but with Crowley's essence pulsing underneath. He feels so warm and safe that it is only with a little hesitation that he nods in response to Crowley's request.]
All right. Hold me steady? I don't want to fall out of your lap.
[Slowly, he manifests his wings. Brilliantly white, he keeps them mostly tucked up against his back, carefully extending one so that Crowley can touch it with his hand, or his wing.]
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And oh, they are ever so lovely. He watches them unfold and he's put in mind of white gardenias; one of the few flowering plants he grew. White and fluffy and just a bit unkempt, and his fingers itch to give them a good preening. There was something about the intimacy of all of it - these parts of them they kept hidden now all laid bare in the comfort of Aziraphale's bathroom. They're mostly dressed, but Crowley feels just as naked as every time they've been intimate.
With great care, he extends his wing to very tentatively brush with the tip of his longest primary flight feather, quickly retracting it. There are no sparks, no bursts of flames or the ripping of the time space continuum. It does send a pleasant shiver through him though, and Crowley extends his wing again for more extended contact.
He grins when nothing catches fire, and tenderly massages the feathery joints at Aziraphale's shoulders. ]
Look at us. So far so good, yeah?
[ Maybe it was because what everyone thought they knew about angels and demons wasn't actually accurate. Maybe it was just because he and Aziraphale weren't pure Good or unadulterated Evil. Maybe a combination of both or there were just other factors at play. Either way, these parts of them could, at the very least, touch without setting off anything too catastrophic beyond whatever was going on in Crowley's trousers. ]
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When Crowley brushes the tip of his wing to Aziraphale's, the angel gasps, but it is not out of pain. Quite the opposite, in fact, and when Crowley extends his wing again, he eagerly meets it, his wings unfurling further so that more feathers can brush up against one another. If he had to put words to the feeling, he'd describe it as like coming into a hearth-warmed home from the cold, but it is far more sensual than that. He drops his forehead to Crowley's, exhaling with a groan when the demon's hands began massaging his feathery joints.]
Yes... quite good...
[He's grateful for Crowley's arms around him as he adjusts his weight in Crowley's lap to re-balance himself. He feels the effect of their intimacy on Crowley and bites back a giggle.]
Someone appears to be enjoying our little experiment. What do you say, when it's time to rinse your hair, we do that in the bath instead of sitting just outside it?
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As their wings maintain contact, whatever lingering tension drains from him. Nothing to be done about his cock, though. It seems to have a mind of it's own own as far as Aziraphale is concerned. ]
'Course I'm enjoying myself. M'with you.
[ He had his arms and lap full of Aziraphale, with their foreheads pressed together, gazing into one another's eyes like a pair of juvenile star-crossed lovers. He's sure the smile on his face is very undemonic and he can't bring himself to care. ]
And that sounds like an excellent idea. Very tempting. I can give your wings a proper preening.
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I'm enjoying myself, too.
[He caresses the tops of Crowley's wings to demonstrate, pressing into Crowley's erection while he does so, his smile turning mischievous.]
You can preen my wings all you like, but only after I take care of you first.
[He means Crowley's hair, but he'd like to take care of all of him if the demon will allow it.]
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So Crowley savours the moment and holds him close, hands running up and down his spine and combing through his feathers. Less grooming and more of a massage. ]
'Course. I do love when you take care of me.
[ It seems Crowley understood the unspoken implication - that this is about a bit more than looking after his hair, and that Aziraphale has the demon's bles- go-ahead to indulge to his heart's content. ]
You've always done so well, keeping us safe, yeah? You know I trust your judgment.
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Good. You beat me to the punch far too often. Not that I'm complaining, mind you...
[He sits up again and stretches his wings, smiling blissfully when they brush up against Crowley's. He's about to recommend that they move onto the bath when Crowley speaks again. It silences his thoughts and leaves him looking at the demon a touch wide-eyed. It's one thing to know that Crowley trusts him, another thing to hear it spoken aloud.]
For over six thousand years, my dear. Of course, it helps that Gabriel could never see past his own ego. [His smile turns somewhat bashful as he brushes back a slick lock of Crowley's hair.] I trust yours, too, you know. We'd never have gotten to have this, otherwise.
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As their wings brush again, Crowley exhales, accompanied by a low, contented sound. Oh yes, he thinks, they're definitely going to have to explore this in greater detail. Eventually he manages a weak chuckle. ]
Can you blame me though? The way you light up when you're happy - got kind of addicted to just finding new ways to do it.
[ And Crowley likes very much to see Aziraphale happy. It warmed his heart just to have those moments together, where even their work couldn't interfere. ]
It does help our former employers were thick as shit though. Now, how do you want me, love?
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Well, I must be lit up all the time these days, because of you.
[He leans in for another kiss and briefly considers what it would be like to brush his lips over Crowley's wings, but ultimately decides that might be a bit too much, too soon. They have time to explore this particular type of intimacy.
Crowley's question makes him chuckle and look the demon over, eyes twinkling.]
Oh, I can think of more than a few ways... in the bath, for starters. With our wings put back away -- for a little while -- so there's more room to work with.
[He slides off Crowley's lap to make it easier for both of them to get undressed. As he tucks his wings back into the astral plane, he notices what a difference it makes to have even those few feathers that Crowley preened now resting where they belong.]
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obediently folds his own as they fade from this plane of reality, and gets his remaining clothes off. ]
Your wish is my command, angel.
[ Sinking into the hot water, he rests his arms on the rim and pillows his chin in his folded hands, watching Aziraphale undress with great interest. Despite the tension in his groin and his eagerness to have Aziraphale back in his arms, he feels uncharacteristically serene. It's comfortable in the hot water, old aches seeping out of his corporation's bones, his many thousands of years of anxieties draining from him in the comfort and safety of Aziraphale's shop.
He grins lazily, flicking a bit of water in Aziraphale's direction. ]
C'mon, sweetheart. Join me. Water's lovely and there's plenty of room.
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He undresses himself slowly, distracted by the image before him, until Crowley flicks water at him and startles him out of his little trance.]
Hey!
[There's no bite to his reprimand, just laughter as he shakes himself and removes the rest of his clothes much more efficiently. He's as aroused as Crowley, which he doesn't bother to hide as he steps into the bath, positioning himself behind Crowley and sighing appreciatively at the water's temperature.]
Lean back, love. I'll wash your hair. Twice, you had said?
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He shifts his bony hips aside so Aziraphale can get in and make himself comfortable, and then settles down between his thighs, leaning back as instructed. He angles his head just so to plant a trail of tender kisses along Aziraphale's cheek, clearly quite happy to make himself comfortable in the angel's lap. ]
Twice, yeah. First to get the oil out and then to condition it. Just a dab of shampoo too. 'Bout the size of a quid.
[ Idly, he strokes Aziraphale's thigh under the water. He feels so at ease nestled up against him, his ever-present anxieties fled to the darkest corners of the shop. ]
Then dab it off with a towel when we're done in here and comb out any tangles. Which there might be, given your penchant for holding on.
[ Crowley leers, looking ever so pleased about the prospect. ]
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I'm going to need to rinse myself off, at this rate.
[He pours out a quid's worth of shampoo, as instructed, and then begins massaging it into Crowley's hair. The lather has a clean, fresh scent, nothing too perfume-y or overpowering. Crowley's leer is returned with a look of faux innocence as he tugs ever so slightly on his soapy locks.]
Considering all the lovely sounds you make when I do, it's no wonder that I've acquired the habit.
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Probably for the best. They'd never have gotten anything else done otherwise. ]
S'supposed to be good for your skin. Coconut oil. Good for - for all sortsa ssstuff.
[ Crowley had gone into that boneless, relaxed state, where he's slurring and hissing his words. His fingers are still idly tracing a pattern up and down Aziraphale's thigh, but they've slowed,
as Crowley's practically melted into the angel's arms. ]
Hmmmgh - s'good, love. Your hands. Always so good.
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From:Just noticed my dumb typo up there! Sorry. :<
From:lol no worries - i don't remember seeing any typo at all
From:Re: lol no worries - i don't remember seeing any typo at all
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