[ Crowley thinks back to when he last had his hair long deliberately and not for a disguise. There was that brief stint in the early seventies when he'd worn it long and straight, and then the mohawk. Before then - good grief had it really been the late 18th century?
Crowley frowns up at the ceiling. ]
A while. Always preferred it long.
[ Aziraphale's humming is a pleasant balm for whatever anxiety just struck him. Crowley has always loved the angel's voice; the way he always sounds so prim and proper in whatever language they're speaking. His frown becomes a content smile. ]
Mm, now that I know you do too, I think I'll just keep it like this.
I do like it long, dear. I think it suits you. But so have all your other styles. It was always a bit of a treat to see how you'd be wearing it whenever we crossed paths.
[He was rather fond of Crowley's curls in Rome. And that shag cut he had in the 1960s, although Aziraphale does not dwell on that memory overlong, as bittersweet as it is. Was Crowley aware of how soft he looked then, sitting in the Bentley? He pauses a moment in his braiding to lean in and kiss Crowley's bare shoulder again, reminding himself of what they have now.]
I'll be hopelessly enamored of you no matter how you choose to wear it. You could even shave it all off and I wouldn't complain.
[Another small pause, before he adds quickly:]
So long as you planned to grow it back, of course.
[ Crowley makes a disgusted noise at the sheer thought of not having any hair on his head. ]
Absolutely never happening.
[ The closest he'd gotten was buzzing the sides for a mohawk back in the late 70s. But that was a mohawk. Bald was not a look for him, unless he was being an actual snake. ]
Even if I liked the idea of being bald, I like your fingers in my hair much better.
[ He tilts his head back so Aziraphale can see his grin. ]
'Specially when you give it a tug. Always knew it was a thing, but I never knew it was going to be my thing.
[Aziraphale titters at Crowley's reaction, at least partially in relief, and resumes his braiding.]
Good, because I like my fingers in your hair, too.
[Although he has to pause once more when Crowley grins at him and says aloud what Aziraphale had managed to infer after their first night together. He blushes a bit and smiles into those upturned yellow eyes.]
Ah, I see why you like wearing it long, then. All the more to tug you with.
[He kisses Crowley's forehead, then urges him to bring his head back down so Aziraphale can properly finish the braid. He's nearly done when he adds quietly:]
So long as I don't have to pull it too hard. I don't want to hurt you.
[ Crowley doesn't shake his head now that Aziraphale is back to braiding but he does demure with a gesture of his hand. ]
I'm not really, uh, into pain. Giving or receiving. I guess it's just a bit of a thrill when you give it a little tug? Like I know you could do more but won't?
[ It feels odd voicing it aloud. He's still not used to how frankly he can express that, in addition to loving Aziraphale, he also desires him. ]
There wouldn't be judgement from me if you did, Crowley. People like what they like. But I don't get any pleasure from giving or receiving pain, either. There's a lot I -- that we haven't explored yet, together, but I already know that much.
[It feels a bit strange to say such things aloud for Aziraphale, too, but only because he's never had reason to share such thoughts before.
A bit of ribbon -- black -- appears in his hand and he uses it to tie off the end of the braid with a little flourish.]
I think I understand what you mean, though. It's the same when you nibble my skin, or I bare my throat to you. I know you'd never take advantage.
[He runs a finger along the braid, admiring his handiwork, before tugging it with the precise amount of pressure that Crowley likes. With his head now tilted back, it's easy for the angel to steal a kiss.]
There, all done. Would you like a mirror, or do you trust me when I say you're an absolute vision?
[ Crowley feels a swell of affection for Aziraphale, and he runs his fingers over the braid, with a hum of approval. The little black ribbon leaves him grinning as his head is brought back for a kiss; one which he is all too happy to return with a slow slide of lips. Moments like these, Crowley likes to savour their kisses, slow and sensuous things that they are. ]
Oh, I don't know. Might take a little advantage.
[ Crowley looks terribly pleased with himself as he murmurs this against the corner of Aziraphale's lips, giving the angel's thigh a light squeeze. ]
Let's have a look then. I trust you, but I also want to admire your work.
[Aziraphale lets that kiss linger on his lips, breaking off only with a besotted giggle at the squeeze to his thigh.]
Only if I may take a little advantage in return. We are naked, in my bed, in case you had forgotten.
[He knows that Crowley has not. That delicious tingle of desire hasn't left Aziraphale, but if Crowley wants to preen in front of a mirror first, who is he to say no.]
Well, all right. There's a mirror in the door of my armoire; I'll fetch the handheld mirror and you you can admire yourself to your heart's content from all angles.
[ Crowley drapes himself in Aziraphale's lap, throwing one arm over his shoulder. Crowley is a master in the art of languishing. Many a chaise lounge have been sprawled upon over the centuries by an over-theatrical demon. ]
Oh, if you must. I'm sure I'll just have to deal with it.
[ As if it were any great hardship and he wasn't absolutely delighted by the idea of Aziraphale being frisky with him.
He lingers there for a little longer before reaching up for Aziraphale to pull him in for a kiss. ]
[Aziraphale does not mind being sprawled upon in the least. He is far more comfortable than a chaise lounge, in his personal opinion, although a certain part of his anatomy is poking at Crowley in a way that piece of furniture most definitely should not. With a thrilled little smile, he returns the kiss avidly, arms wrapping about his torso.]
Oh, I must. The mirror is such a long way away.
[He delivers another kiss, one hand absently batting away the pillow that Crowley had been using to cover his groin.]
I suppose I could carry you there, if you insisted...
[ Oh he can definitely feel Aziraphale's arousal, and he wriggles against it with the most innocent expression he can manage on his beaming face. His smile only grows brighter when the cushion is knocked aside. ]
Now you absolutely have to. I have to preserve my modesty somehow.
[ Says the demon who has frequently wandered around Aziraphale's flat in nary more than that scrap of satin he calls a robe, and maybe a pair of boxer briefs if he's feeling particularly prudish. ]
[Aziraphale bites his lip to keep from moaning outright. Wily serpent, wriggling around like that. Not that he'd have it any other way, of course. He affixes Crowley a droll look before sliding an arm under his knees, holding him more securely.]
We both know that isn't a thing for you around me, my dear. But I'll humor you.
[He stands up from the bed, holding Crowley with his usual ease, and taking a few steps to the armoire. It was built around the same time as his bed, tall with shiny wooden doors and brass handles. A door pops open and reveals the full-length mirror inside. Aziraphale stands before it, focusing on Crowley's eyes in the mirror, a charmed smile on his face.]
[ Crowley gives a delighted 'whoop' as Aziraphale lifts him off the bed. It's not like Crowley is particularly heavy to begin with, but he always gets a thrill at feeling the angel's underlying strength. The Almighty had, of course, made him to fight battles (and Crowley loves him because Aziraphale gave away his sword first chance he got and found better things to do than smite evil) and he's sure some instinctual part of him still smarting from getting kicked out of Heaven should be a little nervous about it, but Crowley's never been particularly sensible when it comes to Aziraphale.
Seeing them together in the mirror has his heart skipping. Naked and with his arms around Aziraphale's neck, draped in the angel's arms - Crowley feels overcome by a wave of some indescribable emotion.
It's one thing to feel Aziraphale against him, warm and so exquisitely soft. It's another thing to see it reflected back at them, a solid reminder that this is all real, that Crowley hasn't sunk into a decades-long dream to soothe a broken heart. They're really together, they can hold each other, love each other, be together completely freely and in front of them is proof of that.
Crowley knows he has the most ridiculous, undemonic grin on his face - h can see it right there in front of them - and he doesn't care. He just rests his head on Aziraphale's shoulder, his arms around him tightening in a proper embrace. ]
[It's rare for Aziraphale to show off his strength. Appearing soft is as much a desire to appear warm and comforting as it is his love of sweets and rich meals. But never misses an opportunity to carry Crowley in his arms -- with the demon's consent, of course. It makes Crowley so happy, and makes Aziraphale feel like he is protecting Crowley, much like their first meeting on Eden's wall when he extended a wing to shield the demon from the rain.
Looking in the mirror, Aziraphale has much the same thought, that their reflection is solid evidence of their togetherness. It's also a lovely image in and of itself: two beings very much in love, almost deliriously happy because of it. (Rather salacious, too, if one's gaze drops too far.)
Aziraphale blushes a little at the compliment and turns his head away from his reflection to kiss the real Crowley's forehead.]
Do you think we should have someone take our photograph sometime? I only have Leonardo's portrait of us. I'd like something to keep on my desk.
[ Crowley rather likes the salacious bits, and not just because he's a demon. He's always found Aziraphale attractive (though he's sure for both of them love has smoothed some of the less attractive creases). He sees no shame in how they express their feelings, even if he'd wish his over-eager loins would give it a bit of a rest so they could at least make it through an evening out without his trousers getting too tight.
Crowley is still admiring how well they seem to fit together, when Aziraphale's words sink in.
Photos. Did people still sit for photos? ...Probably for weddings and other such occasions. ]
We could. Get all that professional lighting and everything, dress up real fancy. But I also think you're really going to love the idea of the selfie.
[ Crowley can imagine it quite clearly. Once Aziraphale got comfortable with twenty-first century technology, there would be albums, digital and physical, full of photographs. Photos of them together on vacation. Photos of Aziraphale laughing as he dries the dishes. Several blurry shots of Crowley doing something ridiculous. A mountain of artistic shots of meals at whatever little hole in the wall they favoured that month.
[Aziraphale was thinking more of the former, certainly. In this case, at least, he's grateful for the advancements in technology so that people could smile for the camera and not hold their poses for uncomfortably long periods of time. But he does not wrinkle his nose at the mention of a selfie. Quite the contrary, his eyes light up at the idea, a grin appearing on his face.]
Oh? Is the inventor of the selfie planning to give me lessons so that we can capture ourselves at the most flattering angle?
[His teasing tone belies a genuine interest in the idea. Wouldn't it be nice to be pressed close together like this, Crowley holding out his phone, something scenic like the Royal Botanic Gardens in the background? He's about to say as much, but holds his tongue while he takes in the soft, faraway look on the angel's face.]
Dear?
[He goes back to the bed, sitting down and resting Crowley in his lap. He slides an arm out from under the demon's knees so that he can gently brush the side of his face.]
[ Settled in the soft warmth that is Aziraphale, Crowley curls his arms around his shoulders and holds him close. ]
Just. Happy. Didn't know you were the type to go in for photography.
[ It's more than that, of course. Always is with either of them.
Crowley, for one, had spent a much larger portion of his life than he'd ever care to admit buying into the idea that he's unworthy of love. After all, when the Almighty Herself rips you open, tears out your Grace and casts you out like garbage, it's not exactly great for one's self-esteem.
He at first never expected to feel love again, and then he never had expected to have it reciprocated, and then, even if it was, it would have to be treated as some furtive thing. The best Crowley could hope for was to be a shameful, dirty secret, kept to the peripherals and never daring to ask for more for what danger it might put them both in; especially Aziraphale. If there were pictures, they were to be tucked away in little lockboxes, brought out only in the dead silence of night; not in albums or frames or plastered on an Instagram account to rile up a bit of Envy in the mortals.
Of course he can't just go saying all that, not when he doesn't even know where to begin explaining why he's so moved. It's just the little things that always hit him the hardest, because they are a sign of much, much bigger things. ]
[Aziraphale can sense what's just below the surface of Crowley's reply, even if he also would have trouble putting it into words. In many ways, their friendship over the centuries was a kind of courtship, but one only expressed in ways that could be hidden or denied. Photos were out of the question. Leonardo's portrait had to be cut in two to avoid suspicion. It hurt Aziraphale to deny his feelings, but he knows that it was far worse for Crowley, who needed love more than anyone.
But he doesn't say anything about that, either. He just smiles softly at Crowley and kisses his cheek, taking his words at face value.]
Well, it's been around long enough that it appears to be more than a fad, so I'm willing to give it a try. Besides, you're very good at it.
[ Crowley, clingy thing that he is, has settled quite comfortably in Aziraphale's lap and curled his arms and legs around him, leaning in to every touch, every kiss. ]
Mm, sss'all about lighting, angel. We'll snap some photos next time we go out and I'll, mm, show you.
[ Crowley seems to have already started distracting himself with gently kneading his fingers into Aziraphale's back, slowly working the muscles there with his deft and clever fingers. ]
[It's not as though Crowley is some tiny waif, but he does fit very nicely on Aziraphale's lap, and a lapful of Crowley is bound to do things to Aziraphale's corporation. His arousal, waiting patiently all this time, spikes rather noticeably.]
Oh, I do hope so... not that I'm particularly hasty to go anywhere...
[He keeps an arm wrapped loosely around Crowley's waist, his other hand trailing lightly along the demon's willowy thigh. His eyes shut blissfully at the impromptu massage, leaning into it instinctively.]
[ Crowley makes a small 'hm' of approval. He may have lost the ability to sense love a long time ago, but he definitely felt that spike of lust. Good, quality lust too, and Crowley basks in it a bit, before resuming his ministrations. He works Aziraphale's back muscles the same way he worked his wings; seeking out the spots where he carries his tension and pushing the pressure outwards. He's slow, methodical and peppers in kisses. There is also a deliberate shift of weight in Aziraphale's lap as Crowley grinds his hips down, trapping their cocks together. ]
Mm, but think of all the dinners we can have together. Picnics. Trips to carnivals, and theatres, and opera houses.
[ Crowley can't help himself. He gives Aziraphale's earlobe a playful nip. ]
[It's a one-two punch of physical pleasure, Crowley working on his back muscles and grinding into his lap, and thoughts of photographs and selfies are promptly pushed out of Aziraphale's mind.]
I can't think of much of anything while you're -- ah! -- oh, right there, darling -- while you're doing that...
[He slides his hands to Crowley's hips, pressing up as Crowley pushes down, letting his building arousal throb like a heartbeat between them. Before Crowley can get to his earlobe a second time, the angel turns his head and kisses him rather soundly.]
[ Crowley's smug little grin is kissed away into a soft, tender, and rather dazed expression. There are some things he'll never tire of and Aziraphale's endearments are one of them. ]
Anywhere you like, then. Anything you like.
[ He locks lips again with Aziraphale, raking his forked tongue over Aziraphale's. The massage is temporarily forgotten, but the slow roll of his hips is certainly not. He delights in the warmth and friction building, and gently nudges Aziraphale's shoulder to coax him back onto the soft duvet and pillows that had, quite miraculously, appeared behind him. ]
[Aziraphale needs little coaxing to lie back onto the pillows, although he keeps his grip on Crowley, not wanting to lose that delicious friction building between them. He may have lost the massage, but Crowley's kiss more than makes up for it. That clever, forked tongue sends a delighted shiver through him, muted by the soft duvet beneath him.]
Right here is... oh... just about perfect...
[He smiles up at Crowley, his blue eyes twinkling in excitement, wondering if Crowley has some sort of plan for what to do with him.]
As for what I'd like... that's entirely up to you.
[ Crowley is rather flying by the seat of his pants - metaphorically speaking, given that his trousers have long since been abandoned.
But that doesn't mean it's not enjoyable.
He breaks the kiss, flicking his tongue playfully over Aziraphale's lips before very slowly pulling away. As he draws back into a more upright position, he drags his hands down Aziraphale's chest, over the swell of his stomach and coming to rest on his waist. ]
How about letting me thank you for taking such good care of my hair...?
[ To paint Aziraphale a picture, he grinds his ass down on his cock, letting it brush up against his entrance before sliding up between his cheeks. ]
...And there's still the pumpkin ravioli for when you get a touch peckish.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Crowley frowns up at the ceiling. ]
A while. Always preferred it long.
[ Aziraphale's humming is a pleasant balm for whatever anxiety just struck him. Crowley has always loved the angel's voice; the way he always sounds so prim and proper in whatever language they're speaking. His frown becomes a content smile. ]
Mm, now that I know you do too, I think I'll just keep it like this.
no subject
[He was rather fond of Crowley's curls in Rome. And that shag cut he had in the 1960s, although Aziraphale does not dwell on that memory overlong, as bittersweet as it is. Was Crowley aware of how soft he looked then, sitting in the Bentley? He pauses a moment in his braiding to lean in and kiss Crowley's bare shoulder again, reminding himself of what they have now.]
I'll be hopelessly enamored of you no matter how you choose to wear it. You could even shave it all off and I wouldn't complain.
[Another small pause, before he adds quickly:]
So long as you planned to grow it back, of course.
no subject
Absolutely never happening.
[ The closest he'd gotten was buzzing the sides for a mohawk back in the late 70s. But that was a mohawk. Bald was not a look for him, unless he was being an actual snake. ]
Even if I liked the idea of being bald, I like your fingers in my hair much better.
[ He tilts his head back so Aziraphale can see his grin. ]
'Specially when you give it a tug. Always knew it was a thing, but I never knew it was going to be my thing.
no subject
Good, because I like my fingers in your hair, too.
[Although he has to pause once more when Crowley grins at him and says aloud what Aziraphale had managed to infer after their first night together. He blushes a bit and smiles into those upturned yellow eyes.]
Ah, I see why you like wearing it long, then. All the more to tug you with.
[He kisses Crowley's forehead, then urges him to bring his head back down so Aziraphale can properly finish the braid. He's nearly done when he adds quietly:]
So long as I don't have to pull it too hard. I don't want to hurt you.
no subject
[ Crowley doesn't shake his head now that Aziraphale is back to braiding but he does demure with a gesture of his hand. ]
I'm not really, uh, into pain. Giving or receiving. I guess it's just a bit of a thrill when you give it a little tug? Like I know you could do more but won't?
[ It feels odd voicing it aloud. He's still not used to how frankly he can express that, in addition to loving Aziraphale, he also desires him. ]
no subject
[It feels a bit strange to say such things aloud for Aziraphale, too, but only because he's never had reason to share such thoughts before.
A bit of ribbon -- black -- appears in his hand and he uses it to tie off the end of the braid with a little flourish.]
I think I understand what you mean, though. It's the same when you nibble my skin, or I bare my throat to you. I know you'd never take advantage.
[He runs a finger along the braid, admiring his handiwork, before tugging it with the precise amount of pressure that Crowley likes. With his head now tilted back, it's easy for the angel to steal a kiss.]
There, all done. Would you like a mirror, or do you trust me when I say you're an absolute vision?
no subject
Oh, I don't know. Might take a little advantage.
[ Crowley looks terribly pleased with himself as he murmurs this against the corner of Aziraphale's lips, giving the angel's thigh a light squeeze. ]
Let's have a look then. I trust you, but I also want to admire your work.
no subject
Only if I may take a little advantage in return. We are naked, in my bed, in case you had forgotten.
[He knows that Crowley has not. That delicious tingle of desire hasn't left Aziraphale, but if Crowley wants to preen in front of a mirror first, who is he to say no.]
Well, all right. There's a mirror in the door of my armoire; I'll fetch the handheld mirror and you you can admire yourself to your heart's content from all angles.
no subject
Oh, if you must. I'm sure I'll just have to deal with it.
[ As if it were any great hardship and he wasn't absolutely delighted by the idea of Aziraphale being frisky with him.
He lingers there for a little longer before reaching up for Aziraphale to pull him in for a kiss. ]
no subject
Oh, I must. The mirror is such a long way away.
[He delivers another kiss, one hand absently batting away the pillow that Crowley had been using to cover his groin.]
I suppose I could carry you there, if you insisted...
no subject
Now you absolutely have to. I have to preserve my modesty somehow.
[ Says the demon who has frequently wandered around Aziraphale's flat in nary more than that scrap of satin he calls a robe, and maybe a pair of boxer briefs if he's feeling particularly prudish. ]
no subject
We both know that isn't a thing for you around me, my dear. But I'll humor you.
[He stands up from the bed, holding Crowley with his usual ease, and taking a few steps to the armoire. It was built around the same time as his bed, tall with shiny wooden doors and brass handles. A door pops open and reveals the full-length mirror inside. Aziraphale stands before it, focusing on Crowley's eyes in the mirror, a charmed smile on his face.]
My, don't you look fetching?
no subject
Seeing them together in the mirror has his heart skipping. Naked and with his arms around Aziraphale's neck, draped in the angel's arms - Crowley feels overcome by a wave of some indescribable emotion.
It's one thing to feel Aziraphale against him, warm and so exquisitely soft. It's another thing to see it reflected back at them, a solid reminder that this is all real, that Crowley hasn't sunk into a decades-long dream to soothe a broken heart. They're really together, they can hold each other, love each other, be together completely freely and in front of them is proof of that.
Crowley knows he has the most ridiculous, undemonic grin on his face - h can see it right there in front of them - and he doesn't care. He just rests his head on Aziraphale's shoulder, his arms around him tightening in a proper embrace. ]
Yeah. We do. Hair looks great too, angel.
no subject
Looking in the mirror, Aziraphale has much the same thought, that their reflection is solid evidence of their togetherness. It's also a lovely image in and of itself: two beings very much in love, almost deliriously happy because of it. (Rather salacious, too, if one's gaze drops too far.)
Aziraphale blushes a little at the compliment and turns his head away from his reflection to kiss the real Crowley's forehead.]
Do you think we should have someone take our photograph sometime? I only have Leonardo's portrait of us. I'd like something to keep on my desk.
no subject
Crowley is still admiring how well they seem to fit together, when Aziraphale's words sink in.
Photos. Did people still sit for photos? ...Probably for weddings and other such occasions. ]
We could. Get all that professional lighting and everything, dress up real fancy. But I also think you're really going to love the idea of the selfie.
[ Crowley can imagine it quite clearly. Once Aziraphale got comfortable with twenty-first century technology, there would be albums, digital and physical, full of photographs. Photos of them together on vacation. Photos of Aziraphale laughing as he dries the dishes. Several blurry shots of Crowley doing something ridiculous. A mountain of artistic shots of meals at whatever little hole in the wall they favoured that month.
A life together. ]
no subject
Oh? Is the inventor of the selfie planning to give me lessons so that we can capture ourselves at the most flattering angle?
[His teasing tone belies a genuine interest in the idea. Wouldn't it be nice to be pressed close together like this, Crowley holding out his phone, something scenic like the Royal Botanic Gardens in the background? He's about to say as much, but holds his tongue while he takes in the soft, faraway look on the angel's face.]
Dear?
[He goes back to the bed, sitting down and resting Crowley in his lap. He slides an arm out from under the demon's knees so that he can gently brush the side of his face.]
What's on your mind?
no subject
Just. Happy. Didn't know you were the type to go in for photography.
[ It's more than that, of course. Always is with either of them.
Crowley, for one, had spent a much larger portion of his life than he'd
ever care to admit buying into the idea that he's unworthy of love. After all, when the Almighty Herself rips you open, tears out your Grace and casts you out like garbage, it's not exactly great for one's self-esteem.
He at first never expected to feel love again, and then he never had expected to have it reciprocated, and then, even if it was, it would have to be treated as some furtive thing. The best Crowley could hope for was to be a shameful, dirty secret, kept to the peripherals and never daring to ask for more for what danger it might put them both in; especially Aziraphale. If there were pictures, they were to be tucked away in little lockboxes, brought out only in the dead silence of night; not in albums or frames or plastered on an Instagram account to rile up a bit of Envy in the mortals.
Of course he can't just go saying all that, not when he doesn't even know where to begin explaining why he's so moved. It's just the little things that always hit him the hardest, because they are a sign of much, much bigger things. ]
Just noticed my dumb typo up there! Sorry. :<
But he doesn't say anything about that, either. He just smiles softly at Crowley and kisses his cheek, taking his words at face value.]
Well, it's been around long enough that it appears to be more than a fad, so I'm willing to give it a try. Besides, you're very good at it.
lol no worries - i don't remember seeing any typo at all
Mm, sss'all about lighting, angel. We'll snap some photos next time we go out and I'll, mm, show you.
[ Crowley seems to have already started distracting himself with gently kneading his fingers into Aziraphale's back, slowly working the muscles there with his deft and clever fingers. ]
Re: lol no worries - i don't remember seeing any typo at all
Oh, I do hope so... not that I'm particularly hasty to go anywhere...
[He keeps an arm wrapped loosely around Crowley's waist, his other hand trailing lightly along the demon's willowy thigh. His eyes shut blissfully at the impromptu massage, leaning into it instinctively.]
no subject
Mm, but think of all the dinners we can have together. Picnics. Trips to carnivals, and theatres, and opera houses.
[ Crowley can't help himself. He gives Aziraphale's earlobe a playful nip. ]
Can't forget libraries, of course.
no subject
I can't think of much of anything while you're -- ah! -- oh, right there, darling -- while you're doing that...
[He slides his hands to Crowley's hips, pressing up as Crowley pushes down, letting his building arousal throb like a heartbeat between them. Before Crowley can get to his earlobe a second time, the angel turns his head and kisses him rather soundly.]
I'll go anywhere with you, love. Anywhere at all.
no subject
Anywhere you like, then. Anything you like.
[ He locks lips again with Aziraphale, raking his forked tongue over Aziraphale's. The massage is temporarily forgotten, but the slow roll of his hips is certainly not. He delights in the warmth and friction building, and gently nudges Aziraphale's shoulder to coax him back onto the soft duvet and pillows that had, quite miraculously, appeared behind him. ]
no subject
Right here is... oh... just about perfect...
[He smiles up at Crowley, his blue eyes twinkling in excitement, wondering if Crowley has some sort of plan for what to do with him.]
As for what I'd like... that's entirely up to you.
no subject
But that doesn't mean it's not enjoyable.
He breaks the kiss, flicking his tongue playfully over Aziraphale's lips before very slowly pulling away. As he draws back into a more upright position, he drags his hands down Aziraphale's chest, over the swell of his stomach and coming to rest on his waist. ]
How about letting me thank you for taking such good care of my hair...?
[ To paint Aziraphale a picture, he grinds his ass down on his cock, letting it brush up against his entrance before sliding up between his cheeks. ]
...And there's still the pumpkin ravioli for when you get a touch peckish.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: