Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

[questionablewit]

Want to tag someone? Tag someone. Put the character you want in the subject line.
Leave a starter, or leave a prompt and I'll start.
Brilliant ideas and clueless flailing all welcome.
AUs and cross-canon, drama and comedy and shipping.
Just throw stuff at me. It's all good.

Comments

[duckshaveears]

The longer they wait to talk about this, the harder it will be, for multiple meanings of the phrase. Better to do it now while there's still some change of Crowley being capable of rational thought, as much as he can be with Aziraphale (Aziraphale! Without a shirt!) leaning over him and beaming down with unquestionable affection (ngk) while talking about cocks and bathing naked (NGK).

"...right." He's saying that a lot. More words needed. The sooner he can words, the sooner they can go back to kissing, and other things. "Right. Cock is probably easiest then, you've had one before and they're not hard to figure out. I'm happy with anything."

He stops again, takes a long halting breath, looks up more seriously. "You know that, yeah? I mean it. Whatever you want to try, or not try, I'm fine with it. Cock or cunt or both or neither, on either of us, anything. If you want me to change what I'm sporting, I will. Just say the word. I haven't got a preference, I just want you. Whatever you'll give me. "

[sohoangel]

Aziraphale listens patiently, giving Crowley a chance to answer him, and then answer him again with even more reassurance. It warms his heart, this acceptance of Aziraphale's inexperience with basic anatomy, and it excites him, too. There's so much that they can try, so many ways they can fit together. And at the core of it, wanting only one another.

Leaning back down, he kisses Crowley softly, out of love and gratitude.

"I'll go with what I'm used to, then," he replies after a moment's thought. "And you keep what you have, darling, I quite like the way it feels against me."

[duckshaveears]

"Yeah?" Crowley's grin is pleased but also thoroughly wicked, and he squeezes his hands where they're still resting on Aziraphale's hips. "Hurry up then, so we can get back more pressing matters."

He raises his hips and tiwsts a little, so he can press against Aziraphale's thigh. Innuendo intended, of course. All the innuendos intended.

[sohoangel]

It's a terrible pun, but Aziraphale laughs anyway, at least until Crowley presses up against him, and then he makes a small, happy hum while pressing right back against him in return and wiggling his hips a little.

"Be patient," he fondly admonishes, after another quick kiss. "I need to concentrate." Although, once he decides to manifest genitalia, it isn't nearly as effortful as all that. He's done it before on multiple occasions, after all.

This is not like those other occasions.

For one thing, he's fully aroused immediately, his corporation taking into account his emotional state without him realizing. For another, he's pressed right up into Crowley's denim-clad thigh, and the contact sends him into a deep shivering paroxysm of pleasure. He whines like a teakettle about to boil over and hides his face in Crowley's neck, hands clutching at the demon's narrow hips so nobody has the bright idea of moving or else he will not survive it.

"I--" He swallows and gasps. "J-just need a moment."

[duckshaveears]

Honestly, Crowley needs a moment too. First there's the pressure of Aziraphale's body in general, which is more than enough in its own right to be thrilling, and then suddenly there's more and it's hard and right there and Crowley swallows hard and doesn't move except to rest his head against the angel's. "S'okay," he says thickly. "'m not going anywhere. Take your time."

He doesn't really remember what it was like having a hard-on for the first time, it's much, much too long ago. But he can make some educated guesses.

It's pretty good! I like Bourne's work, he's a good storyteller.

[confoundthemighty]

The little ripple of warmth that laps at the underside of his skin whenever they kiss also stirs to life in Aziraphale at the sight of that smile, the one that neither smolders nor scalds but bathes him in a perfectly comfortable glow. Every time there's a touch of wonder in it: you're happy, here with me, and I'm happy with you, the simplest and most profound of human joys.

He reaches over to tuck a stray lock of red hair behind Crowley's ear. He's been growing it long, lately; it feels wonderful to run fingers through.

"You'll look splendid." He can't help himself--he drops a kiss on the end of Crowley's nose before settling into the comfortable circle of intimacy, both their heads on the same pillow, limbs and bodies tangled without the urgency of sex. "I'll have to dig out something suitably elegant, to match you."

Not for the first time, Aziraphale wishes stockings on men would come back into fashion. He misses the dashing suits and ruffled cravats of the eighteenth century--you can get away with a waistcoat and a high-collared shirt, but these days it's a highly conspicuous silhouette. Still, he's got plenty of good options, and he knows that he'll walk taller for having Crowley on his arm.

"Shall I do crepes for breakfast?" he murmurs, punctuating the question with a kiss brushed against Crowley's throat as he leans in to tuck himself closer still. "Or will you keep me here till the last possible moment?"

[sohoangel]

There's about half a minute in which there are nothing but deep, slow breaths coming from the angel, face tucked out of sight in the crook of Crowley's neck. He hadn't expected it to be quite so intense, all his desire suddenly focused on a single region of his body, one that hadn't existed mere moments before.

It feels so good, but it aches, too, like whatever he's experiencing is only the tip (ha) of the iceberg, and he needs more of it.

Eventually, he carefully lifts his upper half to look at Crowley, his eyes bright and his fluffy curls matted down with a bit of sweat. "Goodness," he breathes. "How do humans go about like this without exploding?" He feels Crowley beneath him and flushes. "How do you not explode? Especially in those trousers of yours."

[duckshaveears]

Crowley, also flushed, laughs. It's more than a little breathless. "Don't tell me, angel, that you've lived six thousand years on this planet and never heard about a little thing called 'masturbation'?"

[sohoangel]

"Of course I have," he replies, trying not to sound petulant about it. "I meant currently." He pushes down with his hips a little, to make his point. It backfires, of course, because the sensation that results is akin to stars exploding underneath his skin.

"Oh --" he gasps. He takes a moment to recover, and the look he gives Crowley afterwards is very, very intent. "Is that what you've been doing? For how long? Do you know how you like to be touched then?"

[duckshaveears]

Crowley bites his lip on a groan as Aziraphale leans into him. "I--yeah, that part I know," he manages, trying to concentrate on talking and breathing evenly and not on the truly divine hard-on so near to hand. "And since...fuck, I don't know, 1000BC or so? Only a couple times back then, was just curious. 's ramped up a bit in the past few centuries."

He's trying hard not to move his body, as requested, but one hand strokes along Aziraphale's back absently. He has to touch something, or he really will burst.

Noted! I know it's on dvd, I'll keep an eye out.

[duckshaveears]

Crowley nearly purrs when Aziraphale tucks a short wave of hair behind his ear. Gestures like that are the foremost reason he's growing it again; he might be cheating a little to speed up the process. The kiss on the nose earns a chuckle. This is favourite time, more than any other, alone in the heart of the night, talking amidst easy caresses. It's comfortable, intimate, peaceful in a way nothing ever has been.

A demon, wholly at peace and happy. Talk about miracles.

"Mm..." He doesn't really want to move, but at the same time the kiss to his throat catches his attention in particular ways, even after hours of such activity. "Could you really blame me if I picked the latter? Especially if you're going to encourage me like this..."

It's easy to roll a bit, turn his twining into blanketing, steal a few unhurried, thorough kisses. Nuzzle Aziraphale's nose again, then take another kiss. "Compromise?" he murmurs eventually. "Crêpes for brunch, instead of breakfast."

[sohoangel]

Aziraphale's gaze flickers when Crowley mentions the increased frequency of his self-pleasuring. It can't be mere coincidence that they were seeing one another more frequently, too. "Because of me?" he asks softly. It's all too easy to imagine Crowley stretched out on his bed, wound up from another clandestine meeting, reaching down past his waist and --

With a groan of his own, he lifts himself up and off Crowley, but only to resettle at the demon's side. He kisses his neck, fingers tracing lines across his chest. "Will you show me? How to pleasure you?"

[duckshaveears]

"Yes," Crowley says at once, more a breathless whine than a word, answering all the questions at once. Yes, because of Aziraphale, always. Yes, he'll show him how it's done. Yes everything. Yes.

Aziraphale moving off him is only acceptable because it means Crowley can turn on his side and take a kiss, urgent and hungry, his hand coming up to cradle Aziraphale's face and keep his mouth upturned to his. "Could show you yours first?" he manages, somewhere between messy, eager kisses. "Take the edge off a bit." He already knows how to wait, he's been waiting for millennia, he'll manage. Won't be long now either way.

[sohoangel]

Good, that's good, he thinks, because now that he has that image in his mind of Crowley touching himself, he has to satisfy his curiosity or he'll never be able to think of anything else again. He trails his hand around to Crowley's back as the demon shifts to face him, a soft, warm sound leaving his lips while they kiss.

"Oh, yes, yes, whatever you like." Every kiss from Crowley's hot, wet mouth, every brushing of their hips together is increasing that ache within him until it's nearly stifling. He runs his hand up and down Crowley's spine restlessly. "Please, show me."

I like his Sleeping Beauty best, personally, which is also on dvd!

[confoundthemighty]

Aziraphale loves this time of night too--this warm intimate space where they can touch and tell stories and hold one another, where even in the dark there's a lucent joy behind Crowley's gold eyes and in his smile. There's a quiet beneath everything that has nothing to do with the ambient noise of London: it's in their hearts, in the gentle tangle of their bodies, in their knowledge of one another.

He's learning, now, that there are shades to Crowley's smile he never knew could exist. That sometimes he laughs in his sleep, or twitches and frowns and curls in tighter against him, or murmurs Aziraphale's name against his shoulder. That he clings to Aziraphale from the moment he drifts off till the moment he wakes. That the rhythm of Crowley's breathing while he's asleep is the most soothing thing in the world, a tide as soft and steady as the sound of the ocean, and that many nights when he'd meant to lie awake reading he'll find himself collapsing gently into a doze, where dreams are no longer agony.

There are a lot of things Aziraphale means to do that get derailed spectacularly within the confines of this bed.

His kisses are drowsy, slow, lingering. One more before I sleep. Just one more. Just one. It may be greedy of him, but Aziraphale knows there are worse sins than this sort of gluttony.

At the offered compromise, he smiles, slides his palms up the long line of Crowley's back in a fond caress.

"Brunch, then," he says, eyes warm. "I'll do Crepes Suzette. See if I can't get the flambé right this time[1]."




[1] To his credit, there's only been one flambé-related disaster to date, and as far as disasters go it was relatively minimal, but it did result in a flaming dish towel being hurled out of a window in Crowley's flat. Aziraphale is sure if he lives another ten thousand years he'll never live it down.

[duckshaveears]

Aziraphale whispering Yes, please, show me has haunted Crowley's fantasies for centuries and it turns out the things his mind conjured all those times isn't a patch on the real thing.

He groans into their kiss, slides his hand from Aziraphale's face down his chest. "I'll make it good for you," he promises, maybe a little recklessly but it's still hard to believe he doesn't still need to ask permission, that it's already granted. "Swear I will, I swear..."

And then his hand is there, covering and cupping that hard length in Aziraphale's trousers, grinding the heel of his palm just a little against it. Crowley groans again and pulls back to see how the angel reacts. Is this all right, is it too much, too fast, can I, please...

[sohoangel]

"I know, I know, my love. I know you will." He breathes it out between one kiss and the next, warm and reassuring even as he tenses in anticipation of Crowley's touch. He trusts Crowley with this as he trusts him with everything else, the only one he'd trust with his heart, his body, his very soul.

And then Crowley's hand is upon him, and that sharp, star-exploding feeling is back. His eyes shut and he moans softly, his hand clutching onto Crowley's shoulder. It isn't just the electric pleasure-shock of it, it's the intimacy, the feel of Crowley's hand molding around him, pressing into him, the loose fabric of his trousers barely an impediment.

"Oh... oh, that's lovely..." His other hand, trapped between them, pets awkwardly at Crowley's chest. "Please... keep touching me..."

[duckshaveears]

He should do more foreplay, he knows, if he were doing this properly. Take time, do it properly. But they're both near frantic with millennia of pent-up need and it's hard to remember. And there will be other chances to take it slow, later.

Fuck, that thought is the best of all, that this is not just for now but for later, even for always.

Crowley can't quite wrap his head around that idea yet. Just the now is almost too much to handle.

"Fuck, yes," he whispers. His free hand snakes under Aziraphale, wraps around him, pulls him in closer, splays against his back. "Can I--" Fuck, he can't believe he gets to ask this. "Clothes," he manages. "Need those gone. Can I?"

[sohoangel]

If given the chance, Aziraphale would have read a countless number of books, even suffered through an educational movie or two to adequately prepare, and it would have taken ages, and it wouldn't have made a lick of difference except to make him that much more self-conscious.

So far as he knows, this is perfect. And somehow, impossibly, it will get even better.

He pulls Crowley in as well, flush against him, their other hands trapped in between, and kisses him soundly. "Yes," he whispers. "Yes, all of them, please." With a miracle or the old-fashioned way, he'll give Crowley the space to maneuver if necessary, but please.

[duckshaveears]

A miracle it is, because while they were enjoying slowly undressing each other earlier the pace has stepped up a bit since then. Crowley lifts his hand and snaps and then there's skin against skin, his leg wrapping around Aziraphale's, their cocks pressing against each other, and oh heaven it's amazing.

He pulls Aziraphale in as close as possible, not reaching to stroke him again yet, not even kissing him again yet, just savoring the heat of their bare bodies next to each other. Head to toe and all parts in between, touching and twining and tangled and wondrous.

[sohoangel]

Aziraphale shuts his eyes and groans, enraptured by the sensation of their bare lower halves entwined. His groin throbs in time to the heavy thumping of his heart, amazed that he and Crowley are this close, that it is possible to be this close, to feel every nerve in his corporation revel in it.

Slowly, reverently, he runs a hand down Crowley's back and over the swell of his backside. "You feel amazing," he whispers, his hand continuing its journey along his thigh before traveling back up again. "I love you so much, Crowley. I love every part of you, inside and out."

[duckshaveears]

"Angel--" Fuck, what can he say to that? It's too much, those words combined with the reverent way Aziraphale touches him, reverence like that isn't made for someone like Crowley. He closes his eyes as he drinks it all in, the caresses and the smell and the heat, Satan, they're both burning up...nothing holy or hellish about this burning, just human. Who says Above and Below have a monopoly on miracles?

"Aziraphale." He catches Aziraphale's mouth again, kisses him slowly, rolls the angel onto his back and leans over him. Their lips tug at each other, tongues darting and tasting. "Love you," he whispers, palming his free hand down Aziraphale's chest, drifting a little to rub circles around the nipple with his fingers, flick the nub lightly with his thumb, taking cues from how Aziraphale reacts. "Could say it in every language there's ever been and it wouldn't be enough, but I love you."

Stroking over the soft belly, dipping his thumb into the bellybutton a little playfully, and then--he's so careful at first, keeps his touch so light, as he palms over Aziraphale's cock, barely touching then gradually letting his hand rest there, wrapping fingers loosely around him.

[sohoangel]

He doesn't have to say anything; it's enough to feel the heat of his body, the way he molds himself against Aziraphale, as if their corporations were made to fit together. The way he kisses, as if love was something that can be tasted. Maybe it is, Aziraphale thinks dizzily as Crowley rolls him onto his back without breaking apart. His senses are full of Crowley, and he never wants to be rid of it.

Aziraphale opens his eyes and looks up at Crowley in adoration, nearly misses what he's doing until the demon touches his nipple with clever fingers. He bites his lip and makes a thrilled little whine, the sensitivity surprising for such a superfluous part of his body. "You clever, beautiful creature," he whispers back. "You show it better than anyone has ever said it."

He means to touch Crowley in turn, to explore more of his newly exposed skin. But then Crowley lays a hand on his cock and his hands lay uselessly at his sides, clutching the sheets as he moans out Crowley's name. It's so gentle -- almost too gentle -- and he arches his back instinctively. "Please," he begs, not even sure what he's asking for, only that he wants more of it. "You are so good to me, my darling. Please."

Must....catch up....on everything....!

[duckshaveears]

Everything is so soppy lately that Crowley sometimes works a little harder at justifying it to himself in his head, even though he's no longer accountable to anyone but himself. This hedonism is easy to categorize, however: indulgence, pure and simple, both of them greedy as the ocean for as much as they can get. Sure, the kisses are sweet and loving, but they're also addictive, which makes them sinful enough.

They usually end up with at least a hint of pure unbridled lust in them too, which helps. He and Aziraphale have worn each other out already, sated themselves on one another, but he still arches his back with pleasure as palms stroke up his spine. "Mm," he agrees; despite the arch it's more sleepy than sparked with renewed interest. "But not without me around. To rescue you from the threat of flaming dish towels."

<3 Take your time!

[confoundthemighty]

He loves the way Crowley reacts to being petted--that he leans into affection, doesn't brush it off the way he so often does with compliments. Touch makes him happy, and he doesn't bother to hide it. And in the past few months he's been relaxing into it; the bursts of fear are still there, but he allows Aziraphale to comfort him, doesn't push him away. And as wonderful as their journey of mutual discovery is, Aziraphale finds that the quiet moments like this are every bit as delightful, that a single sleepy caress before bed can leave him smiling like a fool the next day.

His palms come to rest just over where wings would sprout on Crowley's back; his smile is wry.

"I will remind you," he says, "that I managed cherries jubilee without starting a second Great Fire, but if you insist on supervising, you can lounge around with your feet up giving a running commentary."

*

This is, in fact, almost exactly how things play out the next morning.

The warm words and touches grow slower as they drift into sleep together; Aziraphale wakes first, as he always does, and spends a little while just watching Crowley. Even in sleep he looks less troubled--not soft, he can be kind and good and incredibly solicitous but never soft, just... better. Healthier. More at ease. It's a beautiful sight.

He can't help himself. He kisses Crowley awake after a small eternity of admiring him.

They don't get out of bed for another four hours.

Aziraphale is nearly alight with energy as he cooks and dishes up the crepes; it's finally really registered that today is the day of his Big Surprises. He's only told Crowley about one of them, but he has three planned, with the other two to come after the ballet. Nerves are starting to creep in, but not the old kind--now, instead of fretting about how he's going to get away with all of it, what might happen if someone from the head office saw them out together, he just hopes he can get it all right. That what's in his heart will come through clearly.

He's fluttering through his last few phone calls: to the Ritz, to confirm tonight's dinner reservation; to the will call box at the theatre Artemis Warehouse has moved into, to make sure he has the curtain time correct. Surreptitiously he texts the young woman in charge of the other project to make certain she knows where she has to be and what her window of time is to get her job done; she texts back almost immediately with a photo of her assembled materials and a cheerful message to the effect of "just say when".