There's a tide to this. The rhythms of the body have their own currents, and while they might be eldritch beings of supernatural power there are some instincts it's hard to ignore. He could, probably. He could try harder than he does. (He does try, he does.)
But it's so good, it's so good, all that heat and tension and tightening, and Aziraphale arching and groaning to the air, openly. Crowley tries to focus on breathing, on balancing, whatever it takes to prolong this as much as possible. But it overpowers him sooner than he wants. He has enough presence of mind to keep the angle Aziraphale needs once he's found it, so he finds that sweet spot with every stroke, but he's panting for breath, snapping his hips in hard, a continuous litany of angel on his tongue.
Another groan, and this time the kiss he sucks into Aziraphale's leg will bruise, florid and painful and real. "Can't--" he huffs against Aziraphale's thigh. "Angel, angel, I can't--need to--"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2020-04-22 12:59 am (UTC)But it's so good, it's so good, all that heat and tension and tightening, and Aziraphale arching and groaning to the air, openly. Crowley tries to focus on breathing, on balancing, whatever it takes to prolong this as much as possible. But it overpowers him sooner than he wants. He has enough presence of mind to keep the angle Aziraphale needs once he's found it, so he finds that sweet spot with every stroke, but he's panting for breath, snapping his hips in hard, a continuous litany of angel on his tongue.
Another groan, and this time the kiss he sucks into Aziraphale's leg will bruise, florid and painful and real. "Can't--" he huffs against Aziraphale's thigh. "Angel, angel, I can't--need to--"