[ 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. ]
[ Oh, Crowley is watching alright, as though he could ever peel his eyes off Aziraphale. And he is so close to losing it, he actually has to bite down on his knuckles. Those little glances as Aziraphale lets go and enjoys pulling his own theatrics - Crowley loves every second of it. ]
Methinks this kestrel angel has a voracious appetite for serpents. No snake's sweet swallow art thou, but a swallower of snakes?
[ He wraps Aziraphale in his arms, kissing into the crook of his neck. It's so lovely and warm to hold him while dressed in his cardigan. ]
My coils keep you, and we'll see what dove's down doth disguise.
Crude as thou art, thou will not find a fox here under cover of feather, merely a rabbit!
[ As if rabbits are a paragon of chastity and virtue. He bites back a mean as Crowley starts to kiss him, but he can't disguise the heft in his breathing.
He locks eyes with Crowley, and the look in his eyes is plain: fond, loving, waiting on bated breath for more; his hands tremble not with nervousness but with holding back from guiding Crowley's touch.
Caught in the moment, he carefully scans Crowley's face and feels his traitorous hand on Crowley's cheek before he realizes that it's moved at all. Fully entranced, he breaks his character, whispering: ]
[ Crowley knows exactly what rabbits get up to in their little dens, which makes them much more apt an association with Aziraphale. He's about to say as much when the angel gives him that look, touches his cheek just so - he pulls him close, leg thrown over him as well, and presses the softest of kisses to his lips. ]
I love you too, Aziraphale.
[ He tilts his head, kissing into the palm that had rested on his cheek. ]
[ He scrunches his nose and pulls Crowley in for a kiss that lingers just the slightest bit longer than the one he'd just been given. He's greedy like that. ]
And you...
[ He pauses for a second, pointing a finger accusingly on Crowley's chest. ]
Are a menace! Do-I-swallow-snakes, could hardly keep a straight face!
[ With a hand on Crowley's shoulder and a leg around his waist, he gently shoves him over onto the bed and crawls over him on hands and knees. There aren't any angles he doesn't enjoy Crowley from, but he has a particular enjoyment of this one, in part because typically when Crowley is under him, he's moaning and writhing like his soul is too big to be caged in his body and rattles against it. His face contorted in pleasure could drive Aziraphale to ruin, he's exquisite.
There he is, looking down at Crowley as a starved lion does a fresh kill.
A thought passes through his mind, and his look snaps back to normal. ]
--Surely, people could have found a phallic symbol slightly more poetic than an aubergine. An eclair, perhaps!
[ Crowley chuckles into the warmth of Aziraphale's shoulder. ]
Only a bit. You do love your little plea-
[ Crowley finds himself quite suddenly flat on his back, and his breath leaves him at the sight of Aziraphale giving him the same look he has when they come around with the dessert tray at the Ritz. Crowley is all too happy to tempt him to a helping or two, letting his hands fall to the angel's hips.
And then they're back to their prior discussion, and scrunches up in a fit of silent laughter, pulling Aziraphale down into his arms. ]
An eclair! I never would of thought of it, but it's a better match; got the cream filling and doesn't taste like absolute rubbish.
[ Aziraphale was so lovely like that. Passionate and enthusiastic, and then sultry. And then so prim and fussy. There was so much he loved about him, he doesn't know where to start.
Well, he does, actually. He had interrupted his snack after all.
A snap, and the dessert appears on one of his lovely antique breakfast trays, along with a bowl of chips, and two smaller ones full of salsa and queso. ]
And if I recall, you had a dreadful day. Rather impertinent of them, thinking they could buy a book. From a bookshop. I did promise a good pampering.
[ He gives Crowley such a lovely look and then sits up to get his legs under the tray so he can tuck in. He thinks about what he wants first, and then--]
[ Crowley stretches and sits himself at Aziraphale's side, plucking the fork from the breakfast tray. This is both calming and familiar, and yet dazzlingly new. Their millennia-spanning friendship had involved many little dining excursions, where one or the other might offer up a forkful of something from their plate. The new bit is Aziraphale explicitly asking for this treatment from Crowley, and the demon couldn't be happier to oblige.
He uses the side of the fork to cut through the soft, rumsoaked sponge and layers of fruit, before offering up the morsel to Aziraphale. ]
Principality, indeed. All you need's a little crown.
[ At the suggestion, Aziraphale miracles a little crown onto his head. It's imperial style, bedecked in jewels, with cushy blue velvet in the center.
After that, he presses his hands together and delicately takes the offered bite. His lips come together in a cute little smile, and he practically bats his lashes the way that old cartoons with shiny eyelids do. ]
[ Crowley quickly stifles a laugh, and affects the demeanor of a prim and proper butler. Or at least, Crowley's idea of a prim and proper butler, as Crowley was absolutely none of the above. ]
My lovely liege - how may I serve you?
[ Crowley dissolves into a fit of snickering. That lasted all of, maybe, three seconds. ]
Stopped by the cottage to drop off cleaning supplies and decided to head into town to get a better feel for the area. Got themselves a charming Italian bakery; been in the family generations. 'Course I couldn't not pick you up a little treat.
[ Aziraphale cracks up too, half because of the words that he says, and half because of the way that he says it. Finally, when their laughter subsides, he says, in between little upstarts of giggles: ]
I do love a... a good Italian bakery.
And a... thoughtful lover.
[ He makes eyes at Crowley one more time before tearing his gaze away and then taking up the fork to continue dessert. He insists on his snack, of course. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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[ He throws his arm back and dramatically looks away, though sometimes he glances back towards Crowley to see if he's still watching. ]
Dost thou question an angel of his innocence? His chastity?
[ He can't even manage to fake a blush, though he's trying very hard to keep from laughing. ]
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Methinks this kestrel angel has a voracious appetite for serpents. No snake's sweet swallow art thou, but a swallower of snakes?
[ He wraps Aziraphale in his arms, kissing into the crook of his neck. It's so lovely and warm to hold him while dressed in his cardigan. ]
My coils keep you, and we'll see what dove's down doth disguise.
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[ As if rabbits are a paragon of chastity and virtue. He bites back a mean as Crowley starts to kiss him, but he can't disguise the heft in his breathing.
He locks eyes with Crowley, and the look in his eyes is plain: fond, loving, waiting on bated breath for more; his hands tremble not with nervousness but with holding back from guiding Crowley's touch.
Caught in the moment, he carefully scans Crowley's face and feels his traitorous hand on Crowley's cheek before he realizes that it's moved at all. Fully entranced, he breaks his character, whispering: ]
I love you.
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I love you too, Aziraphale.
[ He tilts his head, kissing into the palm that had rested on his cheek. ]
...Fluffy rabbit that you are.
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[ He scrunches his nose and pulls Crowley in for a kiss that lingers just the slightest bit longer than the one he'd just been given. He's greedy like that. ]
And you...
[ He pauses for a second, pointing a finger accusingly on Crowley's chest. ]
Are a menace! Do-I-swallow-snakes, could hardly keep a straight face!
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[ Crowley is promptly silenced by Aziraphale's kiss, and happily leans into it. His lips part to welcome him in, and his fingers slide into his hair.
When they break away, Crowley looks incredibly smug over the angel's faux outrage. ]
In my defense, I nearly discorporated when you mentioned your 'innocence'.
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[ With a hand on Crowley's shoulder and a leg around his waist, he gently shoves him over onto the bed and crawls over him on hands and knees. There aren't any angles he doesn't enjoy Crowley from, but he has a particular enjoyment of this one, in part because typically when Crowley is under him, he's moaning and writhing like his soul is too big to be caged in his body and rattles against it. His face contorted in pleasure could drive Aziraphale to ruin, he's exquisite.
There he is, looking down at Crowley as a starved lion does a fresh kill.
A thought passes through his mind, and his look snaps back to normal. ]
--Surely, people could have found a phallic symbol slightly more poetic than an aubergine. An eclair, perhaps!
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Only a bit. You do love your little plea-
[ Crowley finds himself quite suddenly flat on his back, and his breath leaves him at the sight of Aziraphale giving him the same look he has when they come around with the dessert tray at the Ritz. Crowley is all too happy to tempt him to a helping or two, letting his hands fall to the angel's hips.
And then they're back to their prior discussion, and scrunches up in a fit of silent laughter, pulling Aziraphale down into his arms. ]
An eclair! I never would of thought of it, but it's a better match; got the cream filling and doesn't taste like absolute rubbish.
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[ He looks up from where he is, and grins, doing his best impression of a constrictor as he wraps himself around Crowley once pulled forth. ]
I do like eclairs.
[ Then, with his voice lowered and his eyes half-lidded, he adds: ]
I do like your eclair...
And you have interrupted my snack. As I recall, we were about to have cake. And chips.
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Well, he does, actually. He had interrupted his snack after all.
A snap, and the dessert appears on one of his lovely antique breakfast trays, along with a bowl of chips, and two smaller ones full of salsa and queso. ]
And if I recall, you had a dreadful day. Rather impertinent of them, thinking they could buy a book. From a bookshop. I did promise a good pampering.
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[ He gives Crowley such a lovely look and then sits up to get his legs under the tray so he can tuck in. He thinks about what he wants first, and then--]
I think you ought to feed me.
I'd feel very pampered then, I think.
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[ Crowley stretches and sits himself at Aziraphale's side, plucking the fork from the breakfast tray. This is both calming and familiar, and yet dazzlingly new. Their millennia-spanning friendship had involved many little dining excursions, where one or the other might offer up a forkful of something from their plate. The new bit is Aziraphale explicitly asking for this treatment from Crowley, and the demon couldn't be happier to oblige.
He uses the side of the fork to cut through the soft, rumsoaked sponge and layers of fruit, before offering up the morsel to Aziraphale. ]
Principality, indeed. All you need's a little crown.
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After that, he presses his hands together and delicately takes the offered bite. His lips come together in a cute little smile, and he practically bats his lashes the way that old cartoons with shiny eyelids do. ]
Oh my dear, that's glorious.
Where did you get that?
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My lovely liege - how may I serve you?
[ Crowley dissolves into a fit of snickering. That lasted all of, maybe, three seconds. ]
Stopped by the cottage to drop off cleaning supplies and decided to head into town to get a better feel for the area. Got themselves a charming Italian bakery; been in the family generations. 'Course I couldn't not pick you up a little treat.
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I do love a... a good Italian bakery.
And a... thoughtful lover.
[ He makes eyes at Crowley one more time before tearing his gaze away and then taking up the fork to continue dessert. He insists on his snack, of course. ]
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