"Hey, no insulting the mustache," Crowley protests, somewhat distracted by the nearness of Aziraphale's mouth and the hands splayed on his back. "Height of style, that was. At the time. Why are we talking?"
Another kiss, and another, and he'll never get tired of the way they just blend into one another. Kiss after kiss after kiss, sometimes interrupted by a gasp or an "oh" or a name, but mostly it's just their mouths meeting, their hands wandering, their bodies shifting against each other. He'll never get tired of any of it.
"At least a week," he murmurs finally, somewhere in this dizzying array. "Not letting you out of this bed for at least that long." One hand rests on Aziraphale's hip, strokes down his his thigh, squeezing. Just feeling that is enough to make Crowley groan. "Fuck, could just stay between your legs forever...what do you want next, angel? Say the word and it's yours, I'll make it happen. Anything."
Dammit phone why couldn't you have been a PlayStation
Another kiss, and another, and he'll never get tired of the way they just blend into one another. Kiss after kiss after kiss, sometimes interrupted by a gasp or an "oh" or a name, but mostly it's just their mouths meeting, their hands wandering, their bodies shifting against each other. He'll never get tired of any of it.
"At least a week," he murmurs finally, somewhere in this dizzying array. "Not letting you out of this bed for at least that long." One hand rests on Aziraphale's hip, strokes down his his thigh, squeezing. Just feeling that is enough to make Crowley groan. "Fuck, could just stay between your legs forever...what do you want next, angel? Say the word and it's yours, I'll make it happen. Anything."