[Crowley adores Aziraphale's curves, all of them, has never touched them with anything less than worship. They're soft and safe and welcoming, always welcoming, and he loves them. He might not love the scars except in that they're part of Aziraphale, but he's never shied away from them either. His lips know the feel of every line of scar tissue, he's done his best to overwrite whatever memories they hold with an imprint of himself, with loving hands and loving tongue. Always love, always.]
Except the other way around. More me getting you into the bath and rubbing your shoulders, and your everything else, and teasing you until you can't stand it anymore and take me up against the wall. Or on the floor. Or both. The point is, no stealing my plan, I had it first.
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[Crowley adores Aziraphale's curves, all of them, has never touched them with anything less than worship. They're soft and safe and welcoming, always welcoming, and he loves them. He might not love the scars except in that they're part of Aziraphale, but he's never shied away from them either. His lips know the feel of every line of scar tissue, he's done his best to overwrite whatever memories they hold with an imprint of himself, with loving hands and loving tongue. Always love, always.]
Except the other way around. More me getting you into the bath and rubbing your shoulders, and your everything else, and teasing you until you can't stand it anymore and take me up against the wall. Or on the floor. Or both. The point is, no stealing my plan, I had it first.