Muffled as they are against his shoulder, her lustful cries sink through the fabric of his clothes and into his skin, stirring little warm waves of tingling down his spine. She's desperate, squirming, thrusting, fucking herself on his fingers right here against a wall in front of God and everyone. Not that anyone is watching--but then Aziraphale doesn't entirely care whether they have an audience.
And then he feels her gasp and shiver and jerk, squeezing his fingers, and this time he does murmur hushed tenderness in her ear. Little shushing noises, meant to soothe and settle, the hand not buried between her thighs sliding around to stroke the small of her back.
As her lips brush his neck, lazy and satisfied, he begins to ease his fingers out of her. His thumb, index, and middle finger are decadently slick.
"Didn't I tell you I'd bring you off with my filthy mouth?" he teases, gently, and drops a kiss at the side of her jaw.
My Aziraphale's a switch who enjoys being a bastard, so I think this works out nicely.
And then he feels her gasp and shiver and jerk, squeezing his fingers, and this time he does murmur hushed tenderness in her ear. Little shushing noises, meant to soothe and settle, the hand not buried between her thighs sliding around to stroke the small of her back.
As her lips brush his neck, lazy and satisfied, he begins to ease his fingers out of her. His thumb, index, and middle finger are decadently slick.
"Didn't I tell you I'd bring you off with my filthy mouth?" he teases, gently, and drops a kiss at the side of her jaw.