Aziraphale's quiet moans are muffled in their kiss, hand gripping at Crowley's hair with familiar gentleness, not aiming to sting, not yet, not now. Just another point of contact, as if they didn't have enough already, as if they weren't intrinsically connected in ways very much beyond the physical, as if that wasn't enough. Maybe it's not, yet. Maybe he's still far too hurt for what he saw, but what should have been - that empty, emptying ache from those seconds he almost gave up didn't make any kind of clean exit, leaving behind a wound that may take a rather long time to heal. Longer if he doesn't tend to it like he should.
He grips Crowley's hand tight in his, feeling an urge to move along and hurry things, this deep, barely hidden need to cling to him, to forget, to feel only, to feel them together. To rush through. But it's not really hunger, it feels like. Not the kind they sometimes feel. No, it's something else. It's dark. Invasive. He doesn't like it or trust it.
He feeds it only through their kiss, refusing to give it what he wants. Through the way he grips at him, and everything else he controls. They control. They decide. They won't let anything else win.
I love you. Only you. Like this, only you. Forever you. Always you.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-04-09 01:45 am (UTC)Aziraphale's quiet moans are muffled in their kiss, hand gripping at Crowley's hair with familiar gentleness, not aiming to sting, not yet, not now. Just another point of contact, as if they didn't have enough already, as if they weren't intrinsically connected in ways very much beyond the physical, as if that wasn't enough. Maybe it's not, yet. Maybe he's still far too hurt for what he saw, but what should have been - that empty, emptying ache from those seconds he almost gave up didn't make any kind of clean exit, leaving behind a wound that may take a rather long time to heal. Longer if he doesn't tend to it like he should.
He grips Crowley's hand tight in his, feeling an urge to move along and hurry things, this deep, barely hidden need to cling to him, to forget, to feel only, to feel them together. To rush through. But it's not really hunger, it feels like. Not the kind they sometimes feel. No, it's something else. It's dark. Invasive. He doesn't like it or trust it.
He feeds it only through their kiss, refusing to give it what he wants. Through the way he grips at him, and everything else he controls. They control. They decide. They won't let anything else win.
I love you. Only you. Like this, only you. Forever you. Always you.