Date: 2020-04-02 12:23 am (UTC)
duckshaveears: (~ listen)
Another invitation, and Crowley smiles. His hand slides from hip down to thigh, around, lifts Aziraphale's leg so it's hooked over Crowley's shoulder. Crowley turns his head and kisses Aziraphale's knee, still meeting his eyes, his own still glinting warm and wicked. A few more kisses up the thigh, slow and suggestive; a bite, sharp rather than hard.

He doesn't need to ask. He knows Aziraphale is ready. More than ready; expectant.

Crowley shifts, keeps Aziraphale's leg on his shoulder; balancing it will help him get a better angle while also distracting him enough that this won't be over as soon as it starts.

He goes slowly, almost agonizingly slowly, penetrating Aziraphale gently and carefully. A little, then back, then further, then back. He could just sink in, knows his angel could take it, and sometimes they prefer it that way. Hard, fast, rough, hungry.

Not this time. This is about more than hunger, much more, and he wants it to last as long as possible. Hours, weeks. Forever. Sweat beads Crowley's forehead and he welcomes it, one hot rivulet sliding down his face as he forces himself to keep absolutely in control of each tiny movement.

Forward. Back. A little further. Back.
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musebox for Ashfae's minions

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