Crowley finds himself held not just by arms but within a cocoon of feathers, and laughs again at the wonder of it--the softness of Aziraphale's wings grazing his skin, the strength hidden under down and pinion. Crowley can never see them as corroded or tainted, whatever Aziraphale says; to him they're perfect. How could they be anything else, when they're used to hold him as sweetly close as this? When every brush of feather is another caress to tell him how much he's cared for?
All that on top of the love he can still feel radiating from Aziraphale is frankly intoxicating, in a lighter but even more dizzying way than mere alcohol could ever hope to achieve. Crowley reels with it, breathes even more of it in through their mouths, passes it back with each press of lips, and for the first time in centuries remembers what it is to feel hunger. His fingertips press into Aziraphale's scalp, and he moans a little, leaning further into the kiss.
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timeasmymeasure
What I said last time, and yay wings!!
Date: 2025-03-08 01:25 am (UTC)All that on top of the love he can still feel radiating from Aziraphale is frankly intoxicating, in a lighter but even more dizzying way than mere alcohol could ever hope to achieve. Crowley reels with it, breathes even more of it in through their mouths, passes it back with each press of lips, and for the first time in centuries remembers what it is to feel hunger. His fingertips press into Aziraphale's scalp, and he moans a little, leaning further into the kiss.