[ 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.
[Aziraphale has a bit of a pout as Crowley slowly pulls away from him, although he can't complain about the view. The demon looks resplendent above him, the long braid of his hair adding to his roguish charm. He's about to say so, but Crowley renders him speechless with that grind of his ass on his cock.
Oh, that paints a very pretty picture indeed.]
Darling...
[He rests his hands on Crowley's thighs, staring up in awe as if he can't believe his luck. In the weeks they've been together romantically, they've had each other a number of ways, but it's still all so new that he can't help but wiggle a little in excitement.]
You may find this hard to believe, but food is currently the absolute last thing on my mind.
I mean, that's something that has to be seen to be believed. I know how much you love your novelty dishes.
[ Crowley feels the soft, warm pressure of Aziraphale's hand on his thigh, and covers it with his own. Beyond the fact that he may have just found the one thing that might distract Aziraphale from a beloved dish, Crowley is delighted by how happy Aziraphale seems with their new, ...well, arrangement. Love and desire really do complement each other well, he thinks. It's such a far cry from the distant, impersonal Love that Crowley once thought he couldn't live without.
That had been a very long time ago though. This is now.
Crowley entwines his fingers with Aziraphale's and gives his hips another roll, grinding down a second time before lifting them up. With his free hand, he holds Aziraphale's cock steady, giving the angel a cheeky wink as he begins to lower himself down. ]
Pumpkin ravioli is not a novelty food, Crowley, they've been making it in Lombardy for hundreds of -- ohhhh, dear Lord --
[Crowley's slow grind is the best sort of distraction, from both food and food-related arguments. The angel has taken to sex with Crowley like a duck to water. The act is not only an expression of his love, but a hedonistic pleasure that he's happy to indulge in. It's a marvel how much joy they can bring one another, simply by fitting their bodies together.
When Crowley lowers himself, the angel gasps and tries not to be overwhelmed by the tight heat that envelops his cock. The hand entwined with Crowley's squeezes while his other slides up Crowley's thigh to hold him loosely at the hip. Until the demon is fully seated upon him, he'll let Crowley set the pace. He isn't the sort to rush, anyway, whether through a good meal or mind-blowing sex.]
Trust me, dearest. My only thoughts right now are of you.
[ He might have reminded Aziraphale to perhaps save his blaspheming for outside the bedroom (or wherever else they might see fit to take their business), in case She actually opted to put in an appearance. Fortunately, Crowley is already far too overcome to bother. If their creator decides to answer Aziraphale's call, She'd just have to wait until they were finished.
Crowley is in a state of bliss - Aziraphale's girth stretches him nicely without much in ways of discomfort and he can feel the press of the angel's cockhead right up against that sweet spot. Oh yes, very nice, but a little too good just for starters. He'd like to actually last more than a few minutes, and so there's some awkward shuffling in Aziraphale's lap as Crowley makes some minor adjustments to his own anatomy - just so Aziraphale isn't hitting home with each and every thrust.
Once settled, Crowley takes a moment to admire his lover - and Aziraphale doesn't disappoint (not that he could). He is the absolute picture of indulgence, laid out in the nest of cushions like some Greek god in repose. All he needs is a bowl of fruit and a glass of wine. ]
You look absolutely divine, angel.
[ He rocks his hips experimentally at first, before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. He leans so far, Aziraphale nearly slides out of him, but Crowley pulls back just in time, sinking back down onto his erection until he's buried once more in the demon. ]
[Aziraphale would probably just remind Crowley that if the Almighty hasn't checked in with them by now, it's a safe bet She's either indifferent to the change in their relationship, or silently approving. Not that wants to make a habit of taking Her name in vain, or swearing in general, but Crowley's lovemaking tends to override his sensibilities, always in the best of ways.
His eyes flutter shut, then open again curiously while Crowley adjusts himself upon his lap. He squeezes Crowley's hip once to check in, then blushes at the compliment.]
It must be my love for you shining through.
[He hums happily into the kiss, and as Crowley pulls back to keep him from slipping out, the angel lifts his hips up, ensuring that they remain connected. He holds onto Crowley a little more firmly, but not so tight as to restrict his movements.]
Try kissing me again, darling. I already miss you.
[ Crowley laughs, already breathless as Aziraphale just bumped that spot when he raised his hips and it leaves Crowley in quite a state. ]
Barely even gone anywhere -
[ He chides between his panting, but he cradles Aziraphale's cheeks anyway, leaning in for another kiss, because how can he refuse Aziraphale this? Or anything for that matter. Indulging Aziraphale's whims is his absolute favourite pastime, and he has no desire to stop now, or ever.
Crowley moves more deliberately this time, slow, careful, making sure his bending forward, making sure Aziraphale remains at least partially inside him. If there is one thing Crowley has to choose what he likes best about how their relationship has progressed, it's the kissing. It's the slow slide of lips as Crowley gets to taste that lovely mouth which does so much with such love. As his forked tongue probes Aziraphale's lips, Crowley begins a slow, somewhat arrhythmic rocking of his hips. ]
[Oh, so that was why Crowley was shifting about earlier. It puts a grin on the angel's face, but he doesn't take advantage. Not while he's trying to coax Crowley back down for another kiss.]
Even a moment without your kisses is an eternity, dearest.
[There's even a doe-eyed look to go with his request. A bit of an exaggeration, perhaps, as Aziraphale does need his mouth for other things, but he loves kissing Crowley any chance he can get, never tiring of its sweet intimacy. He opens his mouth to Crowley's tongue, shivering at the feel of that forked tip, already familiar with how well his demon wields it.
The kisses only partially muffle the angel's moans as Crowley begins to rock his hips, that velvety heat surrounding him sending sparks up his spine. He keeps his hands steady on Crowley's hips, holding off on thrusting just yet, waiting for Crowley to set a rhythm first before he joins in.
[ Crowley struggles to get into any kind of rhythm as he kisses Aziraphale. It's difficult to focus on so many things at once, especially when his heart is practically singing every time Aziraphale calls him 'dearest' or outwardly expresses any want for him. It soothes aches almost as old as time, like stepping into a warm bath. If Crowley had his way, he'd never stop kissing Aziraphale.
Gradually he does pick up the pace, sliding himself up and down Aziraphale's cock between hungry kisses. At each downward thrust of his hips, Crowley clenches around him, as though his body doesn't want to surrender an inch of the angel. ]
[As the pace quickens, Aziraphale's kisses become more like breathless gasps, the exquisite feeling of Crowley clenching around him making him shiver in pleasure. More terms of endearment slip out from his lips, along with praise for Crowley's beauty and movement of his body.
He knows that Crowley is keen on 'rewarding' him for caring for his hair, that gorgeous red braid that hangs over his shoulder and brushes over Aziraphale's skin every time he dips down for a kiss, but the angel is as much a giver as he is a receiver. As Crowley slides downward, he tightens his grip on the demon's hips and thrusts upward, meeting him halfway. Despite Crowley's careful rearrangement of his anatomy, Aziraphale manages to strike that sweet spot within him, somehow inherently knowing how to bring the most pleasure to Crowley with such a simple stroke.]
[ Crowley enjoys this new kind of back-and-forth between them. Well, not necessarily new new, the foundations of it were old as the planet itself. Perhaps it's more like a renovation; a new facet to something old and comfortable. This and their earlier discussion broaching the subject of cohabitation has Crowley's thoughts wandering back to a little purchase he made back in the early 19th century to hold all the things he was too sentimental to get rid of, but were too incriminating to have anywhere in his official residence. It would make a very nice home for a couple of early retirees - perhaps he should bring it up over the pumpkin ravioli.
He's not sure why the thought perusing a furniture catalog with Aziraphale is almost as arousing him just as the sweet nothings the angel's muttering, but it's certainly spurring him on to ride the angel as hard as he can. When Aziraphale starts meeting his thrusts, hitting home each time, Crowley's mind is wiped of any idle musings about picking out upholstery with the angel. His breathing becomes quick and erratic, peppering in kisses where he can though it's now mostly mouthing at Aziraphale's lips, jaw, and throat. A little miracle keeps his building orgasm at bay and stops him from spilling all over Aziraphale's belly. Panting and needy, he cradles the angel's face in his palms. ]
[It would be a surprising reveal for Aziraphale, but not the least bit unwelcome. He'd want to see this cottage as soon as possible -- more specifically, all the items that Crowley has been saving over the years. Aziraphale is very pro-sentimentality, as he's been collecting not only books, but art and curios, filling an entire bookshop with them, and he'd only encourage this in Crowley. They could make a proper home in that cottage, living as humans do (well, the fun parts, anyway).
This is definitely one of the fun parts, Aziraphale taking as much pleasure in Crowley's desperate little kisses as he is in the way the demon rides him like it's Armageddon all over again.]
And you feel like coming home, my darling.
[One of his hands remains on Crowley's thigh while the other slides up and up until he can wrap his fingers around that alluring braid of vibrant red hair.]
You're close, aren't you? I feel you love spilling out of you like starlight.
[Home. Crowley had never considered that in all his long years, he could be something like that to Aziraphale. With all the things he's feeling right at this very moment, Aziraphale has to hit him with the Inexplicable Yearning; that constant, indescribable ache he always managed to leave Crowley with.
It's definitely something well beyond words to be home to Aziraphale.
Crowley's eyes shut, his forehead pressed against Aziraphale's as his rocking hips slow into longer, deeper thrusts. It's always amazing to him just how mutual their feelings have been - he wonders how long Aziraphale felt that sense of safety and comfort, long before either of them could hint at admitting it...?
If I am a home, then let me be a good one. Warm and safe where there's always a light on. Let me be a place of love, always and forever yours, Crowley thinks, and hopes Aziraphale can feel it because he knows his vocal chords aren't going to cooperate - not when he's trying to kiss every square inch of Aziraphale's lovely face. ]
Mmhhnnphggh -
[ Crowley affirms when Aziraphale asks if he's close, because if his voice wasn't working before, it certainly isn't at the comparison to starlight. He is close, but he can hold out a little longer - indefinitely, with the right miracle - and he wants to feel Aziraphale's release. Feeling the slightest tug on his braid, however, tests his resolve, his cock twitching up against Aziraphale's stomach. Crowley definitely enjoyed the new turn their relationship had taken, but Aziraphale had such a habit gently pulling Crowley apart and piecing him back together with words and gestures that it left the demon both ragged and renewed all at once and he's sure one of these days it's going to, if not discorperate him, at least give him a weird out-of-body experience. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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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?
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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.]
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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Oh, that paints a very pretty picture indeed.]
Darling...
[He rests his hands on Crowley's thighs, staring up in awe as if he can't believe his luck. In the weeks they've been together romantically, they've had each other a number of ways, but it's still all so new that he can't help but wiggle a little in excitement.]
You may find this hard to believe, but food is currently the absolute last thing on my mind.
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I mean, that's something that has to be seen to be believed. I know how much you love your novelty dishes.
[ Crowley feels the soft, warm pressure of Aziraphale's hand on his thigh, and covers it with his own. Beyond the fact that he may have just found the one thing that might distract Aziraphale from a beloved dish, Crowley is delighted by how happy Aziraphale seems with their new, ...well, arrangement. Love and desire really do complement each other well, he thinks. It's such a far cry from the distant, impersonal Love that Crowley once thought he couldn't live without.
That had been a very long time ago though. This is now.
Crowley entwines his fingers with Aziraphale's and gives his hips another roll, grinding down a second time before lifting them up. With his free hand, he holds Aziraphale's cock steady, giving the angel a cheeky wink as he begins to lower himself down. ]
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[Crowley's slow grind is the best sort of distraction, from both food and food-related arguments. The angel has taken to sex with Crowley like a duck to water. The act is not only an expression of his love, but a hedonistic pleasure that he's happy to indulge in. It's a marvel how much joy they can bring one another, simply by fitting their bodies together.
When Crowley lowers himself, the angel gasps and tries not to be overwhelmed by the tight heat that envelops his cock. The hand entwined with Crowley's squeezes while his other slides up Crowley's thigh to hold him loosely at the hip. Until the demon is fully seated upon him, he'll let Crowley set the pace. He isn't the sort to rush, anyway, whether through a good meal or mind-blowing sex.]
Trust me, dearest. My only thoughts right now are of you.
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[ He might have reminded Aziraphale to perhaps save his blaspheming for outside the bedroom (or wherever else they might see fit to take their business), in case She actually opted to put in an appearance. Fortunately, Crowley is already far too overcome to bother. If their creator decides to answer Aziraphale's call, She'd just have to wait until they were finished.
Crowley is in a state of bliss - Aziraphale's girth stretches him nicely without much in ways of discomfort and he can feel the press of the angel's cockhead right up against that sweet spot. Oh yes, very nice, but a little too good just for starters. He'd like to actually last more than a few minutes, and so there's some awkward shuffling in Aziraphale's lap as Crowley makes some minor adjustments to his own anatomy - just so Aziraphale isn't hitting home with each and every thrust.
Once settled, Crowley takes a moment to admire his lover - and Aziraphale doesn't disappoint (not that he could). He is the absolute picture of indulgence, laid out in the nest of cushions like some Greek god in repose. All he needs is a bowl of fruit and a glass of wine. ]
You look absolutely divine, angel.
[ He rocks his hips experimentally at first, before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. He leans so far, Aziraphale nearly slides out of him, but Crowley pulls back just in time, sinking back down onto his erection until he's buried once more in the demon. ]
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His eyes flutter shut, then open again curiously while Crowley adjusts himself upon his lap. He squeezes Crowley's hip once to check in, then blushes at the compliment.]
It must be my love for you shining through.
[He hums happily into the kiss, and as Crowley pulls back to keep him from slipping out, the angel lifts his hips up, ensuring that they remain connected. He holds onto Crowley a little more firmly, but not so tight as to restrict his movements.]
Try kissing me again, darling. I already miss you.
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Barely even gone anywhere -
[ He chides between his panting, but he cradles Aziraphale's cheeks anyway, leaning in for another kiss, because how can he refuse Aziraphale this? Or anything for that matter. Indulging Aziraphale's whims is his absolute favourite pastime, and he has no desire to stop now, or ever.
Crowley moves more deliberately this time, slow, careful, making sure his bending forward, making sure Aziraphale remains at least partially inside him. If there is one thing Crowley has to choose what he likes best about how their relationship has progressed, it's the kissing. It's the slow slide of lips as Crowley gets to taste that lovely mouth which does so much with such love. As his forked tongue probes Aziraphale's lips, Crowley begins a slow, somewhat arrhythmic rocking of his hips. ]
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Even a moment without your kisses is an eternity, dearest.
[There's even a doe-eyed look to go with his request. A bit of an exaggeration, perhaps, as Aziraphale does need his mouth for other things, but he loves kissing Crowley any chance he can get, never tiring of its sweet intimacy. He opens his mouth to Crowley's tongue, shivering at the feel of that forked tip, already familiar with how well his demon wields it.
The kisses only partially muffle the angel's moans as Crowley begins to rock his hips, that velvety heat surrounding him sending sparks up his spine. He keeps his hands steady on Crowley's hips, holding off on thrusting just yet, waiting for Crowley to set a rhythm first before he joins in.
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Gradually he does pick up the pace, sliding himself up and down Aziraphale's cock between hungry kisses. At each downward thrust of his hips, Crowley clenches around him, as though his body doesn't want to surrender an inch of the angel. ]
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He knows that Crowley is keen on 'rewarding' him for caring for his hair, that gorgeous red braid that hangs over his shoulder and brushes over Aziraphale's skin every time he dips down for a kiss, but the angel is as much a giver as he is a receiver. As Crowley slides downward, he tightens his grip on the demon's hips and thrusts upward, meeting him halfway. Despite Crowley's careful rearrangement of his anatomy, Aziraphale manages to strike that sweet spot within him, somehow inherently knowing how to bring the most pleasure to Crowley with such a simple stroke.]
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He's not sure why the thought perusing a furniture catalog with Aziraphale is almost as arousing him just as the sweet nothings the angel's muttering, but it's certainly spurring him on to ride the angel as hard as he can. When Aziraphale starts meeting his thrusts, hitting home each time, Crowley's mind is wiped of any idle musings about picking out upholstery with the angel. His breathing becomes quick and erratic, peppering in kisses where he can though it's now mostly mouthing at Aziraphale's lips, jaw, and throat. A little miracle keeps his building orgasm at bay and stops him from spilling all over Aziraphale's belly. Panting and needy, he cradles the angel's face in his palms. ]
Sweetheart, you feel so good in me -
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This is definitely one of the fun parts, Aziraphale taking as much pleasure in Crowley's desperate little kisses as he is in the way the demon rides him like it's Armageddon all over again.]
And you feel like coming home, my darling.
[One of his hands remains on Crowley's thigh while the other slides up and up until he can wrap his fingers around that alluring braid of vibrant red hair.]
You're close, aren't you? I feel you love spilling out of you like starlight.
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It's definitely something well beyond words to be home to Aziraphale.
Crowley's eyes shut, his forehead pressed against Aziraphale's as his rocking hips slow into longer, deeper thrusts. It's always amazing to him just how mutual their feelings have been - he wonders how long Aziraphale felt that sense of safety and comfort, long before either of them could hint at admitting it...?
If I am a home, then let me be a good one. Warm and safe where there's always a light on. Let me be a place of love, always and forever yours, Crowley thinks, and hopes Aziraphale can feel it because he knows his vocal chords aren't going to cooperate - not when he's trying to kiss every square inch of Aziraphale's lovely face. ]
Mmhhnnphggh -
[ Crowley affirms when Aziraphale asks if he's close, because if his voice wasn't working before, it certainly isn't at the comparison to starlight. He is close, but he can hold out a little longer - indefinitely, with the right miracle - and he wants to feel
Aziraphale's release. Feeling the slightest tug on his braid, however, tests his resolve, his cock twitching up against Aziraphale's stomach. Crowley definitely enjoyed the new turn their relationship had taken, but Aziraphale had such a habit gently pulling Crowley apart and piecing him back together with words and gestures that it left the demon both ragged and renewed all at once and he's sure one of these days it's going to, if not discorperate him, at least give him a weird out-of-body experience. ]
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