Aziraphale's thighs tremble every time Crowley puts his clever tongue to use. He lifts his head up a little to watch and groans, almost regretting laying eyes on the sight as it is simply too much; he drops his head back onto the pillows and shuts his eyes, fingers twisting in Crowley's hair.
He's not shy about the praise he moans, although his eloquence is limited to "you're so good, my darling" and variances of such, too addled for much else. When Crowley pulls off, he whines loudly, and then blushes in embarrassment at his poor etiquette. That blush only grows with Crowley's request. He looks down at Crowley, wide-eyed, as if ready to deny, but --
Oh, the look in those yellow eyes. The want. The love and trust to make such an offer. The angel's cock twitches in clear interest. Yes, Aziraphale wants this, too.
When Crowley's mouth is on him again, Aziraphale grips tight with both hands and thrusts upward in time with the stroking, giving in to the sensation and fulfilling some deep need within both of them to love one another with abandon.
no subject
He's not shy about the praise he moans, although his eloquence is limited to "you're so good, my darling" and variances of such, too addled for much else. When Crowley pulls off, he whines loudly, and then blushes in embarrassment at his poor etiquette. That blush only grows with Crowley's request. He looks down at Crowley, wide-eyed, as if ready to deny, but --
Oh, the look in those yellow eyes. The want. The love and trust to make such an offer. The angel's cock twitches in clear interest. Yes, Aziraphale wants this, too.
When Crowley's mouth is on him again, Aziraphale grips tight with both hands and thrusts upward in time with the stroking, giving in to the sensation and fulfilling some deep need within both of them to love one another with abandon.