[ He did already invite a demon into his life, and as far as he knows, he hasn't left yet. ]
I'm not sure it would be so dreadful.
[ He twirls Crowley in his arms, and after he does, Crowley's miraculously in a cardigan that's several sizes too big for him, better suited to a fussy bookseller, and smells like a very familiar cologne.
The impression it gives takes Aziraphale's breath away, since the sleeves hang off Crowley's hands, going past his wrists. He looks swallowed by the jumper, so cozy and thin under it, as if enveloped by a hug. ]
[ Crowley blinks and suddenly he's even more enveloped in Aziraphale's scent and warmth. Only when he looks down does he realize what just happened.
He can feel his face doing that thing, where it goes all soft and smiling. It's been doing that a lot more frequently these days and he's starting to suspect it might be Aziraphale's doing. ]
S'cozy. Always loved this one.
[ He pulls Aziraphale back close to him, nosing into his hair. ]
Every time I saw you in it, you always looked extra soft.
[ A snap of his fingers and a scarf - practically a shawl - appears, wrapped loosely around Aziraphale's neck and shoulders. It's one of the few real garments Crowley owns, and it's one of his favourites. It's black as night, with flecks of red, and the softest pashmina. It's light, sheer and yet warm.
Crowley adjusts it, so that it drapes elegantly over Aziraphale's shoulders. ]
I think this is the first time we've miracled clothes on one another. Mind you, I'm not complaining.
No, I'm not either. This is lovely. Where'd you get this?
[ He hugs it tighter around himself, and then lifts part of it to his nose and takes a deep breath. Ah, yes, there's just the lightest hint of a spicy, creamy burning wood. It's intoxicating.
He follows his nose to Crowley's neck, by his pulse, mouth precariously close to his throat. ]
[ Crowley beams, carding his fingers through the mess of soft curls. They're at the point where they're wearing each other's clothes. That didn't take long at all. No complaints on Crowley's end at all. ]
Don't even remember. Some gift shop, I think? Hmmrgh - that feels good, angel.
[ Slotted together like this, drifting together through the warmth and safety of the shop with the music in the background - Aziraphale's nose tickling against his throat - Crowley's eyes flutter close. ]
Might just have to whisk you away. Ensnare you with my devilish wiles.
[ As if Crowley doesn't already know that Aziraphale is ensnared by him. He tangles his hands in Crowley's hair and pulls him down for a lingering kiss, drinks him in like his favorite wine.
And then he ends it, clearing his throat and motioning away. ]
Shall we... the cake?
[ He starts to move upstairs, hand on Crowley's chest as he moves. ]
[ Crowley spins on his heel after Aziraphale, following him up the stairs. The light touch to his chest may as well be a vice for how obediently Crowley follows. ]
I should have learned by now I can never distract you long from cake. Go get yourself nice and comfortable, angel, I'll bring you your goodies and help you unwind.
Oh. And what of your aubergine, dear? You seemed to express some interest in that and some donuts.
I admit, rather an odd combination, but perhaps it goes well with the chips.
[ He'll keep an open mind as he takes the cake out. It's almost too pretty to cut up and eat. But... not quite, and Aziraphale helps himself to a slice. He offers one to Crowley. ]
Just a little one for me, love. It'll be at least another week before I binge.
[ Crowley had put his odd metabolism down to just being one of his snakelike qualities, like his eyes and tongue. For a couple of days every handful of months, he'd be insatiable; snacking constantly, and eating full meals. And then he'd become lethargic, nap for a day or two and wake up feeling refreshed.
He's fishing out the wine when Aziraphale brings up the aubergine. And then bursts out laughing. ]
It - Aziraphale - it's - I wasn't actually talking about an actual aubergine. I was being cheeky. It's innuendo.
[ Aziraphale is more than familiar with Crowley's eating habits and napping habits, so he makes a very small slice for him and wonders what he's going to binge on this time. His appetite and cravings are... sometimes odd, to Aziraphale, but he never questions it, really.
He doesn't think the aubergine is that odd, but-- ]
Innuendo? For what?
[ He can't imagine what a gigantic purple vegetable is supposed to represent. Perhaps it refers to its cousin, the white eggplant, which resembles an egg, and does quite look like... a nice round shape, he supposes. ]
[ Crowley is still chuckling as he takes the offered plate. ]
Years of being friends with Wilde, the master of double and triple entendres, and yet the significance of the aubergine eludes you. Mmm, to tell or not to tell - ?
[ Crowley rests his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the skin over his collar. ]
[ He stands in mock offense that Crowley would question Aziraphale's ability to understand such visual play on words, particularly since he was very good at hieroglyphics. ]
Will you just be out with it? What is the aubergine? And where are your donuts?
[ Crowley flings himself from Aziraphale to drape over the countertop and languish. The theatrics, of course, stop almost as soon as they start, because Crowley is always eager to explain things. Humanity's first teacher indeed. ]
It's meant to be an erection. The little leaves at the top look like the crown, and the bulbous base, a lovely set of purple balls.
Edited (1am and my brain can't grammar) Date: 2020-03-30 05:11 am (UTC)
[ Crowley looks puzzled because, quite frankly, what he'd texted was nothing they hadn't already done to each other before, in varying positions, and on most available flat surfaces in the shop (including the ceiling). And they had certainly laughed and joked about it in far more open terms than emojis.
Which meant there was a miscommunication. Not the kind that led to Aziraphale thinking Crowley was resorting to desperate measures and then the demon taking an overlong nap about it. This was a fun miscommunication, and Crowley slithers back on over to the angel, grinning devilishly. ]
Ohh yessss, angel.
[ And he draws out the hiss, snaking his long arms around Aziraphale's shoulders. ]
Whatever you're imagining, that's definitely it.
[ He'd love to know what's so scandalous to Aziraphale; a hedonist among hedonists who got up to who-knows-what in his Discreet Gentleman's Club. ]
[ He relaxes a little, though he's bright red still. And even though he doesn't bat an eye whenever discussing sex acts in a general sense, he does when they pertain to him. Imagining himself and Crowley engaging in such acts is a much less clinical, much more personal thing.
Aziraphale takes a long gulp as he tries to quell his imagination from running away, though his hand trembles as he fruitlessly offers Crowley some cake. ]
Naughty boy.
[ He starts, smiling, exasperated. ]
I admit, I do miss the fashion of... more descriptive erotic letters.
Certainly wouldn't have sent you to the grocery if I knew your intentions.
[ Crowley kisses the back of Aziraphale's neck and then his rosy cheeks before taking a nibble of cake. ]
Can't help it. You bring out the devil in me.
[ He hums, returning his chin to Aziraphale's shoulder. For a demon, Crowley is really quite clingy. ]
Should I be a bit more verbose with my sexts from now on then? O angel, unto thee I beseech - thine eyes, turquoise pools, thine arse, a perfect peach?
Two can play at this game, as Aziraphale dramatically swoons. ]
Lustful demon! I resist, and yet, thy heated look doth hypnotize, and thy arms a fire stoke, til I, dove in the venomous mouth of a serpent, am succumb.
Haven't got venom, m'a constrictor. Could definitely eat you up though, dove.
[ And thus Crowley constricts, hugging Aziraphale close and mouthing exaggerated 'bites' over the side of his face, his ear, down his neck and over his shoulder. There is nothing Crowley is more enthusiastic about putting in his mouth than Aziraphale. ]
Mmm - very tassssty. Whatever shall you do in my wicked clutches...?
[ Crowley likes this game. They've played it a long time, long before they ever got together. Get thee behind me, foul fiend and such. It carried about as much malice as 'my dear boy' from Aziraphale, and so it had never once bothered Crowley. ]
A sweet surrender to thine lusty foe; be strong, o dove, besieged by temptations I will bestow.
[ In one swift motion, Crowley scoops him up, grinning from ear to ear. ]
[ Crowley wheezes incredulously, nearly stumbling into a stack of books from the angel's outrageous assessment of himself. The valiant attempt at an eyebrow waggle really sells it. ]
Oh dove, I suspect thine innocence a ruse to hide a harrier.
[ Finally, Crowley deposits the angel on their bed in their nest of pillows. Truly the perfect lair for such a wicked creature. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I'm not sure it would be so dreadful.
[ He twirls Crowley in his arms, and after he does, Crowley's miraculously in a cardigan that's several sizes too big for him, better suited to a fussy bookseller, and smells like a very familiar cologne.
The impression it gives takes Aziraphale's breath away, since the sleeves hang off Crowley's hands, going past his wrists. He looks swallowed by the jumper, so cozy and thin under it, as if enveloped by a hug. ]
Dear...
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He can feel his face doing that thing, where it goes all soft and smiling. It's been doing that a lot more frequently these days and he's starting to suspect it might be Aziraphale's doing. ]
S'cozy. Always loved this one.
[ He pulls Aziraphale back close to him, nosing into his hair. ]
Every time I saw you in it, you always looked extra soft.
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[ He nuzzles into Crowley's shoulder, by the soft fabric. Aziraphale gives him a good long squeeze and sways with him. ]
And it does look very good on you.
[ He musses Crowley's hair up a bit. ]
Casual.
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[ A snap of his fingers and a scarf - practically a shawl - appears, wrapped loosely around Aziraphale's neck and shoulders. It's one of the few real garments Crowley owns, and it's one of his favourites. It's black as night, with flecks of red, and the softest pashmina. It's light, sheer and yet warm.
Crowley adjusts it, so that it drapes elegantly over Aziraphale's shoulders. ]
I think this is the first time we've miracled clothes on one another. Mind you, I'm not complaining.
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[ He hugs it tighter around himself, and then lifts part of it to his nose and takes a deep breath. Ah, yes, there's just the lightest hint of a spicy, creamy burning wood. It's intoxicating.
He follows his nose to Crowley's neck, by his pulse, mouth precariously close to his throat. ]
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Don't even remember. Some gift shop, I think? Hmmrgh - that feels good, angel.
[ Slotted together like this, drifting together through the warmth and safety of the shop with the music in the background - Aziraphale's nose tickling against his throat - Crowley's eyes flutter close. ]
Might just have to whisk you away. Ensnare you with my devilish wiles.
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And then he ends it, clearing his throat and motioning away. ]
Shall we... the cake?
[ He starts to move upstairs, hand on Crowley's chest as he moves. ]
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[ Crowley spins on his heel after Aziraphale, following him up the stairs. The light touch to his chest may as well be a vice for how obediently Crowley follows. ]
I should have learned by now I can never distract you long from cake. Go get yourself nice and comfortable, angel, I'll bring you your goodies and help you unwind.
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I admit, rather an odd combination, but perhaps it goes well with the chips.
[ He'll keep an open mind as he takes the cake out. It's almost too pretty to cut up and eat. But... not quite, and Aziraphale helps himself to a slice. He offers one to Crowley. ]
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[ Crowley had put his odd metabolism down to just being one of his snakelike qualities, like his eyes and tongue. For a couple of days every handful of months, he'd be insatiable; snacking constantly, and eating full meals. And then he'd become lethargic, nap for a day or two and wake up feeling refreshed.
He's fishing out the wine when Aziraphale brings up the aubergine. And then bursts out laughing. ]
It - Aziraphale - it's - I wasn't actually talking about an actual aubergine. I was being cheeky. It's innuendo.
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He doesn't think the aubergine is that odd, but-- ]
Innuendo? For what?
[ He can't imagine what a gigantic purple vegetable is supposed to represent. Perhaps it refers to its cousin, the white eggplant, which resembles an egg, and does quite look like... a nice round shape, he supposes. ]
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Years of being friends with Wilde, the master of double and triple entendres, and yet the significance of the aubergine eludes you. Mmm, to tell or not to tell - ?
[ Crowley rests his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the skin over his collar. ]
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[ He stands in mock offense that Crowley would question Aziraphale's ability to understand such visual play on words, particularly since he was very good at hieroglyphics. ]
Will you just be out with it? What is the aubergine? And where are your donuts?
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[ Crowley flings himself from Aziraphale to drape over the countertop and languish. The theatrics, of course, stop almost as soon as they start, because Crowley is always eager to explain things. Humanity's first teacher indeed. ]
It's meant to be an erection. The little leaves at the top look like the crown, and the bulbous base, a lovely set of purple balls.
1/2
I... suppose.
[ He pulls out the phone and re-reads the message. ]
...So... you want to--
[ He gestures vaguely ]
--While I eat a--
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Crowley! My goodness!
[ He goes to nervously adjust glasses that aren't on his face and turns bright glowing red. ]
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Which meant there was a miscommunication. Not the kind that led to Aziraphale thinking Crowley was resorting to desperate measures and then the demon taking an overlong nap about it. This was a fun miscommunication, and Crowley slithers back on over to the angel, grinning devilishly. ]
Ohh yessss, angel.
[ And he draws out the hiss, snaking his long arms around Aziraphale's shoulders. ]
Whatever you're imagining, that's definitely it.
[ He'd love to know what's so scandalous to Aziraphale; a hedonist among hedonists who got up to who-knows-what in his Discreet Gentleman's Club. ]
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Aziraphale takes a long gulp as he tries to quell his imagination from running away, though his hand trembles as he fruitlessly offers Crowley some cake. ]
Naughty boy.
[ He starts, smiling, exasperated. ]
I admit, I do miss the fashion of... more descriptive erotic letters.
Certainly wouldn't have sent you to the grocery if I knew your intentions.
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Can't help it. You bring out the devil in me.
[ He hums, returning his chin to Aziraphale's shoulder. For a demon, Crowley is really quite clingy. ]
Should I be a bit more verbose with my sexts from now on then? O angel, unto thee I beseech - thine eyes, turquoise pools, thine arse, a perfect peach?
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[ He playfully swats at Crowley's arm.
Two can play at this game, as Aziraphale dramatically swoons. ]
Lustful demon! I resist, and yet, thy heated look doth hypnotize, and thy arms a fire stoke, til I, dove in the venomous mouth of a serpent, am succumb.
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[ And thus Crowley constricts, hugging Aziraphale close and mouthing exaggerated 'bites' over the side of his face, his ear, down his neck and over his shoulder. There is nothing Crowley is more enthusiastic about putting in his mouth than Aziraphale. ]
Mmm - very tassssty. Whatever shall you do in my wicked clutches...?
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--That tickles!
[ Though he happily tries to catch Crowley's mouth with his. ]
I suppose now, bringer of evil, harbinger of ruin, that I must do whatever it is pleases thy wretched heart.
[ He pauses to check that he hasn't gone too far. ]
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A sweet surrender to thine lusty foe; be strong, o dove, besieged by temptations I will bestow.
[ In one swift motion, Crowley scoops him up, grinning from ear to ear. ]
A lair! A lair! Oh my kingdom for a lair!
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Victory is yours, evil most foul. If thou takest innocence mine, be swift as a bull and gentle as a tortoise!
Or, o, on another thought, be gentle as a bull and swift as a tortoise.
[ He attempts to waggle his brows.
He is not good at it. ]
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[ Crowley wheezes incredulously, nearly stumbling into a stack of books from the angel's outrageous assessment of himself. The valiant attempt at an eyebrow waggle really sells it. ]
Oh dove, I suspect thine innocence a ruse to hide a harrier.
[ Finally, Crowley deposits the angel on their bed in their nest of pillows. Truly the perfect lair for such a wicked creature. ]
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