[Aziraphale watches, flushed and giddy, as Crowley makes a catalogue of his body via his mouth. Each kiss is a scorching reminder of the demon's love, and he can't help but whimper and whine at the variety. Those love bites in particular have him panting and gripping Crowley's hair in approval. He'll most definitely not miracle them away.]
All good choices so far. [He chuckles breathlessly.] Best to keep sampling so I can know for sure.
[ Crowley wonders if there's a bad choice - every inch of Aziraphale is delectable. He puts his mouth to work on the other thigh now, working his way up. He sways, serpentine as ever, as his gaze falls on Aziraphale's cock. It is, in Crowley's limited personal experience with such things, quite nice looking. Handsome, even. (Could you call a cock handsome? Crowley supposed there was a first for everything.) ]
Standing up so proud and proper - can hardly resist this delicacy.
[ He noses up against against it, letting his own scent mix with the heady musk of Aziraphale's arousal. He tickles the tip of his forked tongue at the base before dragging it up along Aziraphale's length. ]
[Aziraphale's cock twitches, as if flattered by the compliment. The scene before him is so intensely erotic -- Crowley staring at him like a feast, his gorgeous face flanked by the angel's marked-up thighs -- that when Crowley finally puts his tongue to work, Aziraphale has to shut his eyes, lest his arousal crest and push him over the edge too soon.]
Oh... oh, my stars. Crowley, your tongue, you -- !
[It's not much of a compliment in return, but the way he writhes underneath Crowley must easily let the demon know how much he enjoys it.]
[ Crowley might argue that the highest compliment ever would be those sounds Aziraphale makes, the way just raking his tongue over him got the angel writhing. There is no higher honour, he thinks, than being responsible for that flush in Aziraphale's cheeks. He licks over the crown, deepening the fork in his tongue so that it wraps around to the point where the two tips can almost touch.
He eases up on his teasing, pressing little kisses all down the underside as he strokes the inside of Aziraphale's thigh. ]
I can take you all the way in. Dying to, really - you taste incredible.
[ And to emphasize his point, he nuzzles into the crook between Aziraphale's groin and his thigh, breathing deeply. ]
[Aziraphale has nothing to compare it to, but surely this is the most glorious way to be rendered insensate. It is a good long moment before he can even comprehend Crowley's words, and it takes at least another to force himself to open his eyes and ease the sensations roiling through him enough to answer.]
I... I never...
[Crowley makes it so very damn hard, kissing him so softly and breathing him in. How can he decide what he wants when he wants everything? He runs his fingers through Crowley's hair, shaking a little, eyes filled with nothing but love and trust.]
Please, I -- I want this, I want so much, please don't stop.
[ Crowley stares up at Aziraphale in awe, feeling like his heart had just shattered and repaired itself a million times in a few seconds.
Once upon a time, God had spun him from the ether, made him manifest and poured Love into him. At the time he thought he'd know no greater ecstasy, only to be proven wrong when he met Aziraphale.
He thought he loved Aziraphale. For six millennia up until now, he was sure that's what it was. Now he's realizing that was absolutely nothing more than slight infatuation compared to how he feels now, in this moment, when Aziraphale looks at him like that, with his perfect manicured fingers carding through his hair. It was like comparing fireworks to a red giant - and Crowley knowS the difference very well. He's had a hand in both.
If I'm made for anything, he thinks to himself, let it be this. ]
Won't stop, angel. I promise. Anything you want from me, please, let me give it to you.
[ Here Crowley is, on his knees between Aziraphale's legs, praying to the angel. He'd give credit where it's due. Though glad he never met dear old Oscar, the tricky bastard had said it best; Love's a sacrament that should be taken kneeling.
He presses more reverent kisses to Aziraphale's cock until finally his lips rest on the very tip, part, and take him in one smooth motion. ]
[If Crowley is taking a sacrament, then Aziraphale's words are a benediction. All the love he has, his personal grace, he offers it to his beloved without condition or restriction. It pours from him like a river, shining in his eyes as he curves his hand to Crowley's cheek in a tender caress.
When Crowley takes him into his mouth, he cries out, eyes shutting and head falling back into the pillows. It is more intense than he ever could have imagined, because it's Crowley, Crowley, always Crowley. He brings his hand back into Crowley's hair, the other groping blindly for his shoulder, wanting to touch as much of him as he can.]
[ Always had me, Crowley thinks. Maybe not like this, but he had always Aziraphale's. He doesn't think there's much of anything that will change that going forward.
These are the last coherent thoughts Crowley has before being utterly overcome - Aziraphale's scent, his taste, the whole feel of him is everywhere. It's staggering, and yet he wants more. Needs more. He takes the hand on his shoulder in his own so that Aziraphale doesn't have to reach so far to touch him, and he gives an encouraging squeeze.
Crowley adjusts his jaw, the flat of his tongue flexing hard up against the underside of Aziraphale's cock, and then pulls upward, dragging the wet heat of his mouth over the length. And then, demon that he is, begins his torment in earnest, licking and sucking to vary the degrees of stimulus, occasionally pulling away to nip at his hipbone, or kiss his belly and thighs. ]
[Aziraphale threads his fingers with Crowley's and holds tight, needing that anchor as his corporation floods with pleasure, threatening to wash him away. The demon is both his tormentor and his salvation, alighting every nerve with his clever lips and tongue, only to pull off of him and leaving a desperate ache in his place. He tugs restlessly with his other hand, but does not try to direct Crowley, trusting that the demon will care for him as he always has.]
My darling, your mouth is a miracle... I'd be so lost without you...
[The stacks of books around him, he thinks heretically, are nothing but wasted paper, now that he knows what it's like to be with the one he loves.]
[ Crowley gazes up at him, certain the grin he's sporting makes him look rather dazed and dumb. ]
Could stay down here forever, angel. Take care of this any time you want - never tasted anything better.
[ As if for emphasis, he licks a bead of pre from the tip, before engulfing the entire length of Aziraphale's cock in his mouth once more. There's no more teasing, tortuous medley of sensations, but now the demon is sucking greedily in earnest, tongue stroking up and down the shaft. ]
[Aziraphale must look nearly as dazed, blinking at Crowley as if his words are coming from a great distance. All that registers is that pleased grin and so he smiles in return, so full of affection that he nearly glows from it.]
I love you.
[He says it again on the tail of whimper while he watches Crowley lick the tip of his cock, he says it again with a groan when Crowley swallows him down. He says it over and over, gasps it like a mantra, as Crowley brings him to the peak of ecstasy. When it nearly gets to be too much, he pulls at Crowley's hair with a little more intent, heels digging into the mattress as if bracing himself for his climax.]
[ Crowley's heart aches every time Aziraphale repeats his love, spurring him to more insistently propel the angel to his climax. His throat bobs as he takes him as deep as possible, the pressure of his mouth growing tighter, and he rubs Aziraphale's thighs encouragingly so that he doesn't have to pull away to let him know it's alright to let go.
Between that, and the firm grip on his hair makes it very hard for him not to press his hips into the duvet and take his pleasure on the blanket. Six thousand years of pining and watching the sheer eroticism of Aziraphale's dining indulgences, however, has left Crowley with a will of tempered steel and he keeps his hips firmly elevated. ]
[Aziraphale's entire universe shrinks to Crowley's mouth and the touch of his hands, before expanding suddenly in a metaphorical big bang of ecstasy. He cries out as he climaxes, as helpless as a saint caught up in divine rapture, his corporation merely a vessel for all the love he feels for Crowley, once locked up tight against prying eyes, now called out to the heavens.
He lays there in the aftermath, panting, his hand not tucked into Crowley's hair pulling gently but insistently on the demon's arm, urging him back up for a proper kiss.]
[ Crowley lingers despite the insistent tugging, just to make sure he'd got every last drop, before slithering his way back up to Aziraphale and leaving a trail of warm, sticky kisses in his wake. When he finally stretches out at Aziraphale's side, he reaches up to cradle his cheeks in his hands. ]
Look at you; utterly gorgeous.
[ And how can he resist kissing? After all, there's no place on Aziraphale he doesn't want to put his mouth, and he hungrily presses their lips together. ]
[There's a soft, pleased sound for every kiss that brings Crowley closer, close enough to look right into his eyes and smile blissfully. His cheeks flush at the compliment and he turns his head to press a kiss to one of Crowley's palms before his lips are captured in that kiss he'd been craving.]
Look who's talking, my dear.
[He places a hand on Crowley's shoulder and strokes him all along his side, down to his hip, his thumb rubbing that tantalizing crease between hip and groin.]
[ Crowley gives a spectacular shiver under Aziraphale's touch, his whole body hypersensitive with pleasure.
He muffles a high, thin sound in the crook of Aziraphale's neck, hips rocking and jolting involuntarily. He knows he shouldn't be so acutely aware of every touch from Aziraphale, but he is and his body responds accordingly. ]
Angel -
[ His voice sounds so little like his own he can hardly believe he managed to utter a word. He almost looks around for some intruder, but no, that definitely came out of his mouth. ]
- You definitely make me feel glorious. Let's never stop doing this. Just - just live in your bed and never let go of each other.
[ He knows it's ridiculous. There are a million and one things he can think of off the top of his head that he and Aziraphale would like to do that don't involve fucking each other senseless. But here, in this moment, surrounded by love, Crowley can't bring himself to want anything else. ]
[It shouldn't be a surprise, not after this evening so far, but having Crowley come apart like that underneath his touch has the angel's heart thrumming with delight. He repeats the motion, then gently presses him onto his back, reversing their positions.]
I think you'll find my schedule to be free and clear of anything but you.
[If it's ridiculous, then let them be ridiculous together. Right now, there's nothing more that Aziraphale wants, either. He slides his lips to Crowley's neck, exploring there with teeth and tongue while one of his hands teases circles on the inside of his hip.]
If I can bring you a fraction of the pleasure you bring me, we'll never want to leave.
[ The demon arches and writhes with each touch, contorting in ways not quite possible for humans who aren't missing a rib or two. He's sure he'll feel embarrassed later about how easily (and undemonicly) he comes apart under Aziraphale's soft, deft fingers, but that's later, this is now.
More koala than snake at the moment, Crowley's arms and legs wrap almost instinctively around Aziraphale as his world is turned upside down. For an instance, he feels like he's falling again, and his back hits the soft surface of the mattress and the plump pillows.
What a lovely fall, wrapped so nicely in Aziraphale's embrace. ]
Fffuck, Aziraphale - you feel like a furnace -
[ This is, apparently, a good thing with the way Crowley is wriggling against him, trying to nose into his neck and frantically running hands up and down the soft skin of his back. ]
[Aziraphale smiles at the comparison between teasing nibbles to the column of Crowley's elegant neck.]
'Love is a spirit all compact of fire. Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.'
[Good old Will, a quote for every occasion. Crowley's writhing reignites his passion, although having already been sated, it's easy for him to concentrate on the demon in his arms, committed to savoring every inch of him. Ignoring the frantic nosing, he kisses lower, along Crowley's collarbone, and then across the flat planes of his chest, paying particular attention to his nipples, making the same sounds that he does during a fine meal. Because what could be finer than the salt of Crowley's skin and the sweetness of his love?]
[ Crowley flails, and gasps, rutting up against the angel's chest as he moves lower. He's leaking, and torn between his blind arousal and being utterly infuriated. ]
You can't just say that! You can't make scrummy a sexy word! Fuck! You're going to say it in the middle of dessert and I'm - I'm going to have associations like Pavlov and his bloody dogs! Only it's not going to be about bells and food, it's going to be about you - ahhh - doing that and the word scrummy!
[ He falls limp and breathless, his brief fury momentarily abated, but given the rocking of his hips, his erection still has a bit of a ways to go. ]
[The rant is so typically, blessedly Crowley that Aziraphale has to pause a moment to laugh silently into the soft dip just beneath his ribs. He kisses there, mollifying, before propping himself up on his elbows so he can give Crowley a knowing smile.]
Considering how you watch me eat, I think that ship has already sailed.
[Yes, he had noticed. Or at least finally put two and two together. Looking down, he marvels at how Crowley's body responds to him. He runs a finger over the head of Crowley's cock, unable to help himself, catching a bit of pre-come on the tip of his finger and sucking it into his mouth.]
I'll try to think of a better word to describe how good you taste to me, but no promises.
[And with that, he's back to exploring Crowley with his mouth and hands, lower and lower, until he has his tongue sliding up the length of his erection.]
[ Crowley is far from mollified. He almost goes into another rant about the inherent eroticism of the sounds and expressions Aziraphale makes when every tasty tidbit passes those soft, rosy lips, but then they are pressed to his own dripping cock and Crowley just can't anymore. A moan rips from his throat and he throws an arm over his face because if he looks right now, right now, it will all be over in a second.
He chances a peek down, only to glimpse that pink tongue raking up his cock, and he gasps, hips stuttering upwards involuntarily as he tries to think of something utterly unsexy - and the word scrummy is now apparently off that list because Aziraphale had to go and make it a sexy word. ]
Angel - you're gonna ruin me - fuck - !
[ Crowley finally finds some kind of equilibrium, and manages to get his fingers buried in Aziraphale's soft curls, stroking him encouragingly. ]
[Aziraphale hums softly in acknowledgement, as if Crowley had made a coherent argument instead of a series of unintelligible noises, and presses a soft kiss to the tip of his cock.]
Oh, I intend to. As well as spoil you senseless. You deserve it.
[And, then, finally, he takes Crowley into his mouth. It's all entirely new to him, but between what he's read and otherwise gleaned from the humans around him, he's hopeful that he can live up to his words. The hand in his hair is a comforting weight, and with a surprising amount of grace, he bobs his head up and down, the flat of his tongue running along the underside of Crowley's cock, a hand wrapped around the base for added stimulation.]
[ He hopes that Aziraphale doesn't expect him to last. He truly does, because he already feels wrung out and hung to dry. His other hand joins its counterpart in Aziraphale's hair, cradling his head while he utters encouragements that grow increasingly nonsensical.
The combination of Aziraphale's hand and the heat of his mouth has Crowley reeling and every muscle feels tight, and his body feels too small around him, like a sweater that just shrunk in the wash.
He'd been cracked open once before, torn apart and cast away. This feels similar and yet somehow the very opposite. Aziraphale has gathered him up, taken him apart slowly and methodically, and replacing what was lost with something new and wonderful.
He chokes out a warning, though it's probably too late; his thighs shake as his back arches, and his orgasm rips through him so suddenly that his vision whites out.
He comes to shortly afterwards, feeling like a bowl of gelatin, and swearing intermittently between emphatic declarations of love and devotion, pawing feebly at Aziraphale's head to coax him back into the demons arms. ]
[Aziraphale has no expectations, merely enjoying the feel of Crowley in his mouth, the taste and smell of him, and of course, those lovely and encouraging words. He looks up periodically, making sure that Crowley is enjoying himself, wanting to please him, to give him that love and tenderness that he had been cruelly denied for too long.
Gliding his free hand underneath Crowley's buttock, he holds him securely and increases his pace once he finds a comfortable rhythm. Crowley's orgasm surprises him, but he's quick to recover, swallowing hurriedly enough that he manages only to spill a little. He's quick to lap up what he's missed, caught up in the moment of Crowley's beautiful release.
My dear, you are exquisite.
The pawing at his head makes him giggle and he places a quick kiss on Crowley's stomach before crawling up to face him once more, wrapping him up in a proper embrace.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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All good choices so far. [He chuckles breathlessly.] Best to keep sampling so I can know for sure.
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Standing up so proud and proper - can hardly resist this delicacy.
[ He noses up against against it, letting his own scent mix with the heady musk of Aziraphale's arousal. He tickles the tip of his forked tongue at the base before dragging it up along Aziraphale's length. ]
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Oh... oh, my stars. Crowley, your tongue, you -- !
[It's not much of a compliment in return, but the way he writhes underneath Crowley must easily let the demon know how much he enjoys it.]
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He eases up on his teasing, pressing little kisses all down the underside as he strokes the inside of Aziraphale's thigh. ]
I can take you all the way in. Dying to, really - you taste incredible.
[ And to emphasize his point, he nuzzles into the crook between Aziraphale's groin and his thigh, breathing deeply. ]
...Unless you'd like to try something else...?
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I... I never...
[Crowley makes it so very damn hard, kissing him so softly and breathing him in. How can he decide what he wants when he wants everything? He runs his fingers through Crowley's hair, shaking a little, eyes filled with nothing but love and trust.]
Please, I -- I want this, I want so much, please don't stop.
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Once upon a time, God had spun him from the ether, made him manifest and poured Love into him. At the time he thought he'd know no greater ecstasy, only to be proven wrong when he met Aziraphale.
He thought he loved Aziraphale. For six millennia up until now, he was sure that's what it was. Now he's realizing that was absolutely nothing more than slight infatuation compared to how he feels now, in this moment, when Aziraphale looks at him like that, with his perfect manicured fingers carding through his hair. It was like comparing fireworks to a red giant - and Crowley knowS the difference very well. He's had a hand in both.
If I'm made for anything, he thinks to himself, let it be this. ]
Won't stop, angel. I promise. Anything you want from me, please, let me give it to you.
[ Here Crowley is, on his knees between Aziraphale's legs, praying to the angel. He'd give credit where it's due. Though glad he never met dear old Oscar, the tricky bastard had said it best; Love's a sacrament that should be taken kneeling.
He presses more reverent kisses to Aziraphale's cock until finally his lips rest on the very tip, part, and take him in one smooth motion. ]
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[If Crowley is taking a sacrament, then Aziraphale's words are a benediction. All the love he has, his personal grace, he offers it to his beloved without condition or restriction. It pours from him like a river, shining in his eyes as he curves his hand to Crowley's cheek in a tender caress.
When Crowley takes him into his mouth, he cries out, eyes shutting and head falling back into the pillows. It is more intense than he ever could have imagined, because it's Crowley, Crowley, always Crowley. He brings his hand back into Crowley's hair, the other groping blindly for his shoulder, wanting to touch as much of him as he can.]
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These are the last coherent thoughts Crowley has before being utterly overcome - Aziraphale's scent, his taste, the whole feel of him is everywhere. It's staggering, and yet he wants more. Needs more. He takes the hand on his shoulder in his own so that Aziraphale doesn't have to reach so far to touch him, and he gives an encouraging squeeze.
Crowley adjusts his jaw, the flat of his tongue flexing hard up against the underside of Aziraphale's cock, and then pulls upward, dragging the wet heat of his mouth over the length. And then, demon that he is, begins his torment in earnest, licking and sucking to vary the degrees of stimulus, occasionally pulling away to nip at his hipbone, or kiss his belly and thighs. ]
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My darling, your mouth is a miracle... I'd be so lost without you...
[The stacks of books around him, he thinks heretically, are nothing but wasted paper, now that he knows what it's like to be with the one he loves.]
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Could stay down here forever, angel. Take care of this any time you want - never tasted anything better.
[ As if for emphasis, he licks a bead of pre from the tip, before engulfing the entire length of Aziraphale's cock in his mouth once more. There's no more teasing, tortuous medley of sensations, but now the demon is sucking greedily in earnest, tongue stroking up and down the shaft. ]
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I love you.
[He says it again on the tail of whimper while he watches Crowley lick the tip of his cock, he says it again with a groan when Crowley swallows him down. He says it over and over, gasps it like a mantra, as Crowley brings him to the peak of ecstasy. When it nearly gets to be too much, he pulls at Crowley's hair with a little more intent, heels digging into the mattress as if bracing himself for his climax.]
Oh... my dear... I'm so close -- !
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Between that, and the firm grip on his hair makes it very hard for him not to press his hips into the duvet and take his pleasure on the blanket. Six thousand years of pining and watching the sheer eroticism of Aziraphale's dining indulgences, however, has left Crowley with a will of tempered steel and he keeps his hips firmly elevated. ]
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He lays there in the aftermath, panting, his hand not tucked into Crowley's hair pulling gently but insistently on the demon's arm, urging him back up for a proper kiss.]
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Look at you; utterly gorgeous.
[ And how can he resist kissing? After all, there's no place on Aziraphale he doesn't want to put his mouth, and he hungrily presses their lips together. ]
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Look who's talking, my dear.
[He places a hand on Crowley's shoulder and strokes him all along his side, down to his hip, his thumb rubbing that tantalizing crease between hip and groin.]
You're glorious.
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He muffles a high, thin sound in the crook of Aziraphale's neck, hips rocking and jolting involuntarily. He knows he shouldn't be so acutely aware of every touch from Aziraphale, but he is and his body responds accordingly. ]
Angel -
[ His voice sounds so little like his own he can hardly believe he managed to utter a word. He almost looks around for some intruder, but no, that definitely came out of his mouth. ]
- You definitely make me feel glorious. Let's never stop doing this. Just - just live in your bed and never let go of each other.
[ He knows it's ridiculous. There are a million and one things he can think of off the top of his head that he and Aziraphale would like to do that don't involve fucking each other senseless. But here, in this moment, surrounded by love, Crowley can't bring himself to want anything else. ]
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I think you'll find my schedule to be free and clear of anything but you.
[If it's ridiculous, then let them be ridiculous together. Right now, there's nothing more that Aziraphale wants, either. He slides his lips to Crowley's neck, exploring there with teeth and tongue while one of his hands teases circles on the inside of his hip.]
If I can bring you a fraction of the pleasure you bring me, we'll never want to leave.
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More koala than snake at the moment, Crowley's arms and legs wrap almost instinctively around Aziraphale as his world is turned upside down. For an instance, he feels like he's falling again, and his back hits the soft surface of the mattress and the plump pillows.
What a lovely fall, wrapped so nicely in Aziraphale's embrace. ]
Fffuck, Aziraphale - you feel like a furnace -
[ This is, apparently, a good thing with the way Crowley is wriggling against him, trying to nose into his neck and frantically running hands up and down the soft skin of his back. ]
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'Love is a spirit all compact of fire. Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.'
[Good old Will, a quote for every occasion. Crowley's writhing reignites his passion, although having already been sated, it's easy for him to concentrate on the demon in his arms, committed to savoring every inch of him. Ignoring the frantic nosing, he kisses lower, along Crowley's collarbone, and then across the flat planes of his chest, paying particular attention to his nipples, making the same sounds that he does during a fine meal. Because what could be finer than the salt of Crowley's skin and the sweetness of his love?]
My dear, you are positively scrummy.
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[ Crowley flails, and gasps, rutting up against the angel's chest as he moves lower. He's leaking, and torn between his blind arousal and being utterly infuriated. ]
You can't just say that! You can't make scrummy a sexy word! Fuck! You're going to say it in the middle of dessert and I'm - I'm going to have associations like Pavlov and his bloody dogs! Only it's not going to be about bells and food, it's going to be about you - ahhh - doing that and the word scrummy!
[ He falls limp and breathless, his brief fury momentarily abated, but given the rocking of his hips, his erection still has a bit of a ways to go. ]
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Considering how you watch me eat, I think that ship has already sailed.
[Yes, he had noticed. Or at least finally put two and two together. Looking down, he marvels at how Crowley's body responds to him. He runs a finger over the head of Crowley's cock, unable to help himself, catching a bit of pre-come on the tip of his finger and sucking it into his mouth.]
I'll try to think of a better word to describe how good you taste to me, but no promises.
[And with that, he's back to exploring Crowley with his mouth and hands, lower and lower, until he has his tongue sliding up the length of his erection.]
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He chances a peek down, only to glimpse that pink tongue raking up his cock, and he gasps, hips stuttering upwards involuntarily as he tries to think of something utterly unsexy - and the word scrummy is now apparently off that list because Aziraphale had to go and make it a sexy word. ]
Angel - you're gonna ruin me - fuck - !
[ Crowley finally finds some kind of equilibrium, and manages to get his fingers buried in Aziraphale's soft curls, stroking him encouragingly. ]
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Oh, I intend to. As well as spoil you senseless. You deserve it.
[And, then, finally, he takes Crowley into his mouth. It's all entirely new to him, but between what he's read and otherwise gleaned from the humans around him, he's hopeful that he can live up to his words. The hand in his hair is a comforting weight, and with a surprising amount of grace, he bobs his head up and down, the flat of his tongue running along the underside of Crowley's cock, a hand wrapped around the base for added stimulation.]
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The combination of Aziraphale's hand and the heat of his mouth has Crowley reeling and every muscle feels tight, and his body feels too small around him, like a sweater that just shrunk in the wash.
He'd been cracked open once before, torn apart and cast away. This feels similar and yet somehow the very opposite. Aziraphale has gathered him up, taken him apart slowly and methodically, and replacing what was lost with something new and wonderful.
He chokes out a warning, though it's probably too late; his thighs shake as his back arches, and his orgasm rips through him so suddenly that his vision whites out.
He comes to shortly afterwards, feeling like a bowl of gelatin, and swearing intermittently between emphatic declarations of love and devotion, pawing feebly at Aziraphale's head to coax him back into the demons arms. ]
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Gliding his free hand underneath Crowley's buttock, he holds him securely and increases his pace once he finds a comfortable rhythm. Crowley's orgasm surprises him, but he's quick to recover, swallowing hurriedly enough that he manages only to spill a little. He's quick to lap up what he's missed, caught up in the moment of Crowley's beautiful release.
My dear, you are exquisite.
The pawing at his head makes him giggle and he places a quick kiss on Crowley's stomach before crawling up to face him once more, wrapping him up in a proper embrace.]
I'm here, darling. I'm here.
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