[ 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.'
[ 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.
[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; ]
[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.
[ 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. ]
[Aziraphale doesn't really understand the memes, but the cats are cute. He actually went out of his way to enquire about Maru, wanting to see more videos of the box-loving cat after Crowley showed him the first one.]
I do beg your pardon.
[His mildly incredulous expression -- what innuendo? -- is replaced with a blush and involuntary wiggle against Crowley's hand.]
That phrasing does sound rather like a double entendre in light of recent events, doesn't it? Perhaps that Freud fellow was onto something, after all.
[ Aziraphale's little wiggle into his palms is all the invitation Crowley needs to grab a couple of handfuls and squeezing just above his thighs. ]
Might've been. The whole weird fixation on parents seemed a bit off though. Methinks Dr. Freud might've been projecting a little. ...Or a lot, actually.
[ He mouths over Aziraphale's throat, licking into that dip in his collarbone. Crowley really cannot seem to get enough of him. ]
Might've had a few slips myself, every now and then.
[Aziraphale squeaks audibly at that double squeeze, even though he really should have seen it coming. His hands skim over Crowley's lithe frame, either looking for revenge or simply not wanting to be left out of the fun.]
Freud fixated on a lot of things, dear...
[He moans softly at the way Crowley mouths at him, hooking his leg over the demon's to draw them closer together.]
Is that so? I always assumed that was simply part of your charm... silver-tongued devil and whatnot...
[ Crowley gives a reflexive chuckle at Aziraphale's touch. It tickles, but in a pleasant way, like nestling into warm silk sheets. And while one hand remains firmly planted on the angel's bum (he may or may not have stolen a few appreciative glances over the centuries), the other glides over the thigh hooked around his hips. ]
Better make sure you keep this silver tongue occupied then. There's no telling what mischief it's liable to get up to.
[ He flicks his tongue, the split tip tickling the underside of Aziraphale's chin while Crowley looks terribly pleased with himself. ]
[Crowley's laughter is infectious, and he finds himself giggling for no good reason other than it feels good to do so. He feels so relaxed and utterly content, his heart light and open to whatever might happen next.
Then Crowley tickles his chin and draws another giggle out of the angel. One hand settles at the small of his back, the other teasing over a nipple in the space between them.]
Mmm, I'm sure that you can find mischief no matter how well occupied your tongue is, but if you insist...
[He captures Crowley's mouth in a kiss, and though his tongue is not nearly so special as a serpent's, he manages to keep Crowley's busy without any trouble.]
[ Crowley could, indeed, get up to all kinds of mischief even with his tongue so thoroughly occupied in mapping every corner of Aziraphale's mouth. His fingers are fully occupied with stroking and kneading into the meat of the angel's ass and thigh, loving the soft give and the hint of firmer muscle. When Aziraphale starts teasing his nipple, the whine from Crowley is utterly wanton. ]
Angel -
[ He's breathless, already flushed and panting, aching for Aziraphale's touch. There aren't words for how good it feels, like little jolts of electricity down his spine, going right to his groin.
His fervour redoubles, kisses growing hungry and his idle groping becomes more deliberate. ]
[Aziraphale never would have imagined enjoying the way Crowley kneads the soft curves of his corporation, but it's a sign of how attractive the demon finds him, and besides, it feels good, a nice firm pressure down to the muscle underneath. He squeezes with the thigh hooked over Crowley's leg, reminding the demon of his strength. He has a feeling that he'll appreciate it.
He patiently circles the nipple with his index and middle fingers, then gently pinches it before Crowley becomes complacent to the sensation. The whine that results is matched with a chuckle that's only partly muffled by their kisses.]
Yes, darling? Something -- mmmph -- I can do for you?
[ Crowley does, indeed, appreciate it. The sign of Aziraphale's many hidden depths - the ones Heaven ignored because they took every little thing at face value.
Aziraphale, his soft angel, but also strong and resilient and so very brave; Crowley love him more with every moment.
The attention to his nipple has him arching and writhing in pleasure. It's like Aziraphale knows just how to render Crowley a mass of emotions with pinpoint precision.
Unable to articulate much else aside from the breathless utterings of the angel's name and several nonsensical endearments, Crowley rolls Aziraphale onto his back, one narrow thigh pressed firmly between his legs as he kisses him hungrily. ]
[Aziraphale makes note of the delightful way Crowley writhes at his touch, adding it to the catalogue of all the other things that have transpired this evening, wanting to commit each one to memory.
When Crowley answers his question with nonsense, Aziraphale can't help but smile, pleased with how he's rendered the demon inarticulate. He'd tease him about that supposed silver tongue, but then Crowley finds his own way to respond, rather effectively in fact, as the angel now has a thigh pressing up against his cock, already hard from their latest bout of kissing and innuendo.
He returns each kiss just as fervently, hands still exploring Crowley's chest, pinching gently at the other nipple.]
[ A shudder runs through the demon as his other nipple gets some attention. If he were able to form a coherent sentence, let alone a thought that isn't rubbing every conceivable surface of his corporation against Aziraphale, he might wonder if this is why that horrid little man Shadwell was so convinced three or more nipples were a gateway to rapturous carnal delights.
He might even have concocted a scheme to potentially insinuate he was, in fact, tri or even quad nipples if he ever found himself unfortunate enough to be in the man's presence again.
Fortunately, smothering Aziraphale's throat with kisses is much, much more interesting than harmlessly terrorizing weird fringe fundamentalists.
He seizes Aziraphale's hips in his hands, holding them steady as he gently grinds his thigh between the angel's legs. ]
You know, that miracle may not have gotten you properly cleaned up. Might have to make sssee for myself. Make sure.
[ The flicker of Crowley's tongue against Aziraphale's collarbone should make it very clear just what he's scheming. He certainly wasn't joking when he said he could happily spend an eternity with his head between Aziraphale's thighs. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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. ]
no subject
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?
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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.
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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.'
no subject
[ 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.
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[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.
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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.
no subject
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...
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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. ]
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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.
no subject
[ 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.
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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.
no subject
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'. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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
I do beg your pardon.
[His mildly incredulous expression -- what innuendo? -- is replaced with a blush and involuntary wiggle against Crowley's hand.]
That phrasing does sound rather like a double entendre in light of recent events, doesn't it? Perhaps that Freud fellow was onto something, after all.
no subject
Might've been. The whole weird fixation on parents seemed a bit off though. Methinks Dr. Freud might've been projecting a little. ...Or a lot, actually.
[ He mouths over Aziraphale's throat, licking into that dip in his collarbone. Crowley really cannot seem to get enough of him. ]
Might've had a few slips myself, every now and then.
no subject
Freud fixated on a lot of things, dear...
[He moans softly at the way Crowley mouths at him, hooking his leg over the demon's to draw them closer together.]
Is that so? I always assumed that was simply part of your charm... silver-tongued devil and whatnot...
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[ Crowley gives a reflexive chuckle at Aziraphale's touch. It tickles, but in a pleasant way, like nestling into warm silk sheets. And while one hand remains firmly planted on the angel's bum (he may or may not have stolen a few appreciative glances over the centuries), the other glides over the thigh hooked around his hips. ]
Better make sure you keep this silver tongue occupied then. There's no telling what mischief it's liable to get up to.
[ He flicks his tongue, the split tip tickling the underside of Aziraphale's chin while Crowley looks terribly pleased with himself. ]
no subject
Then Crowley tickles his chin and draws another giggle out of the angel. One hand settles at the small of his back, the other teasing over a nipple in the space between them.]
Mmm, I'm sure that you can find mischief no matter how well occupied your tongue is, but if you insist...
[He captures Crowley's mouth in a kiss, and though his tongue is not nearly so special as a serpent's, he manages to keep Crowley's busy without any trouble.]
no subject
Angel -
[ He's breathless, already flushed and panting, aching for Aziraphale's touch. There aren't words for how good it feels, like little jolts of electricity down his spine, going right to his groin.
His fervour redoubles, kisses growing hungry and his idle groping becomes more deliberate. ]
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He patiently circles the nipple with his index and middle fingers, then gently pinches it before Crowley becomes complacent to the sensation. The whine that results is matched with a chuckle that's only partly muffled by their kisses.]
Yes, darling? Something -- mmmph -- I can do for you?
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Aziraphale, his soft angel, but also strong and resilient and so very brave; Crowley love him more with every moment.
The attention to his nipple has him arching and writhing in pleasure. It's like Aziraphale knows just how to render Crowley a mass of emotions with pinpoint precision.
Unable to articulate much else aside from the breathless utterings of the angel's name and several nonsensical endearments, Crowley rolls Aziraphale onto his back, one narrow thigh pressed firmly between his legs as he kisses him hungrily. ]
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When Crowley answers his question with nonsense, Aziraphale can't help but smile, pleased with how he's rendered the demon inarticulate. He'd tease him about that supposed silver tongue, but then Crowley finds his own way to respond, rather effectively in fact, as the angel now has a thigh pressing up against his cock, already hard from their latest bout of kissing and innuendo.
He returns each kiss just as fervently, hands still exploring Crowley's chest, pinching gently at the other nipple.]
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He might even have concocted a scheme to potentially insinuate he was, in fact, tri or even quad nipples if he ever found himself unfortunate enough to be in the man's presence again.
Fortunately, smothering Aziraphale's throat with kisses is much, much more interesting than harmlessly terrorizing weird fringe fundamentalists.
He seizes Aziraphale's hips in his hands, holding them steady as he gently grinds his thigh between the angel's legs. ]
You know, that miracle may not have gotten you properly cleaned up. Might have to make sssee for myself. Make sure.
[ The flicker of Crowley's tongue against Aziraphale's collarbone should make it very clear just what he's scheming. He certainly wasn't joking when he said he could happily spend an eternity with his head between Aziraphale's thighs. ]
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