Date: 2019-12-05 11:09 pm (UTC)
duckshaveears: (~ thirst)
Crowley has never, in six thousand years on the planet, had a better view. It's fantastic. He's seen Aziraphale, happy, angry, upset, nearly the full gamut of possible emotions, but this is entirely new and better than he'd ever imagined (and oh, he'd imagined, often and in great detail). And the sounds, Satan be merciful. Crowley hasn't touched himself at all yet and at this rate he won't need to, he'll come just from listening to this. He'll never be able to go to dinner with Aziraphale again without thinking about this, and it might even be worth it.

He keeps up a small, steady stream of encouragement as they go. Doesn't even think about it, just babbles what's on his mind. How well the angel's doing, how good he looks, how good he sounds, how much it's turning Crowley on to watch, how perfect he is. He can't tell if Aziraphale's really taking it in, but that doesn't matter.

When Aziraphale tugs at his hair again Crowley groans, bends his head down and kisses him lightly on the mouth, mindful of how breathless he is. "S'okay, if you want to," he says. "We have all night, angel, we have forever, this is just the start. You can come if you want." Fuck, he can't believe he gets to say this, he can't believe he gets to do this. "Do you want to come for me, angel? Right now, all over my hand?"
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