[It's barely a matter of seconds before he's melting happily into Crowley's arms--the angel rubs his nose gently against the soft thin skin behind one of Aziraphale's ears, and it has roughly the same effect on him that Crowley's excellent cat-petting skills have on his feline form. Which is probably cheating, and he would bring it up, but he's extremely comfortable as he is just now.]
What, at your mercy? [The tease is soft and drawling, almost drowsy, and there's no heat in it at all.] S'a nice place to be.
no subject
What, at your mercy? [The tease is soft and drawling, almost drowsy, and there's no heat in it at all.] S'a nice place to be.