Hawke (
questionablewit) wrote in
faemused2018-11-11 03:46 pm
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Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

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He leans forward, resting his head against Aziraphale's, smelling his breath, the angel's taste still lingering in his mouth. There's still a pull towards Aziraphale's lips as strong as any suction from a black hole, and Crowley resists just for the moment because this time he knows the resistance is temporary and therefore sweet with anticipation of more. "Better than crepes?" he teases, still breathless. His hands are splayed on Aziraphale's black, one between the shoulderblades and the other at the base of the spine, and there's no space between them at all.
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He laughs softly into that little space between them, his breath warm and sweet with a lingering note of sake. "Better than crepes," he murmurs. "Better than brioche." He presses a kiss to the corner of Crowley's mouth. "Better than my first taste of honey, my first sip of wine, my first bite of fruit." His voice trembles, not from uncertainty, but the sheer joy of sharing this with Crowley. "Better than anything."
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And then another kiss, and another, until he's dizzy with them, much more intoxicated than he was by the sake, and somewhere in the middle he manages to say, very quietly, "Love you too. Hadn't said yet."
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And then Crowley says that he loves him, and the doves in his heart are all a-flutter, a wild beating of wings against his chest. He feels like he might discorporate, and leans into Crowley that much more, chasing each kiss as if it might be the last.
When they take another break, he's flushed and disheveled, like he's just gotten out of Crowley's Bentley after another harrowing speed race through downtown. Excepting he's smiling, practically glowing. Scratch that, he may actually be glowing a little. "I know you do. It's wonderful to hear. And to say. I love you, darling."
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And then another kiss, another, maybe they'll tell his side of the story better than these words do. None of it seems to be enough.
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He slides his arms from around Crowley's shoulders so he can cup his face with both hands and delicately stroke the sharp angles of his cheeks. "I'd give that to you now," he says in the gap between one kiss and another. "If we weren't standing in the middle of Soho Square."
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Crowley doesn't stop kissing Aziraphale, because he can't, wouldn't if he could but he can't, not after so much time spent trying to get to this point and never managing it. But one of the hands pressed up against the angel's back let's go, shakes itself out, snaps fingers, and then they're just outside the bookshop. Can't appear inside directly, there are wards and protections up to prevent that sort of thing, but outside he can do.
It drains him, and he sags a little in Aziraphale's embrace, but it's worth it. And if some humans notice two people suddenly appearing and disappearing...fuck it, it's London. All sorts of weird shit happens in London, everyone knows that, especially Soho.
He's still kissing Aziraphale. He'll never stop unless he has to, or is asked.
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It's still a struggle to get inside, what with him not wanting to stop kissing, either, and the inherent clumsiness of two people trying to get through a doorway together, one forwards and one backwards, but they manage, and as soon as they're through, the door slams shut. Aziraphale leaves the lights off, his only desire to get to the clear open space in the middle of his shop.
Once there, he manifests his wings. Magnificent and pristine, stretching out to their full span before wrapping themselves around Crowley, a cocoon of gleaming white feathers. Distracted as he is by Crowley's mouth, he overcompensates for the demon's slacked weight and loses his balance, tipping forward with a muffled note of alarm. Whoops!
At least his wings will cushion their fall.
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A very good thing, because it means that after the initial break of surprise and impact, he can just pick up right where he was: kissing Aziraphale. But Christ, it's better like this, in private, and lying down where he can just twine his leg around like this, and wrap his arm around Aziraphale's waist like this to pull him even closer, and then reach up with his other hand and caress those wings, the soft arc of them above his head..."Fuck, angel--" he manages, somewhere in the midst of all this, utterly overwhelmed and not wanting to change anything about it. Not a thing. "Have you any idea, any idea at all--" He can't finish the sentence. Aziraphale's mouth is in the way. Good.
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At least until Crowley caresses his wings. No one has ever touched his wings before, save himself, and the sensation is so intimate that it sends a great shiver down them, feathers rustling like a rainstorm. "Crowley," he whimpers against his lips. He turns his head and presses a kiss against the soft skin underneath Crowley's jaw. "Oh, my love. I think I rather do."
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"What do you want?" he manages to ask, tilting his head back as Aziraphale's lips brush along his jaw, and fuck, fuck, this will kill him, he wants it so much. "Just ask, angel, I'll do it, I'll do anything."
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"I..." He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "My wings. Can you...?" It feels selfish to ask, he brought them out to shelter Crowley, not for his own pleasure. But now that he's had a taste of what it feels like, he wants more. "Keep touching them. Please."
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Gorgeous...? Aziraphale opens his eyes, looks down at Crowley as if he can't believe it. He's been complimented before, there were times in history in which his form was considered attractive, but none of that meant much to him. Not the way Crowley says it, as if he's the most beautiful thing in the universe.
"Is it the wings?" He flexes them against Crowley's hands, urges him to continue. He keeps cradling the back of Crowley's head with one hand while the other tenderly traces his snake tattoo, then nudges on the frame of his sunglasses, a silent request to remove them. If Crowley is going to look upon him, he wants to do the same.
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He lifts his head up an inch again, seizes another kiss, hungry and wanting. His fingers still dance lightly along bone and feather, careful, but the rest of him, the rest of him tells a different story of wanting. The way his leg tightens around Aziraphale's, the way his body rises under his, the way he tilts his head into that touch next to his ear, the slight whining keen he makes.
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The answer surprises him, makes him want to giggle because it sounds like Crowley is describing a down-filled duvet, but it also twists at him in a tantalizing sort of way, knowing how much Crowley is reveling in his softness. He meets Crowley's kiss and swallows up that sweet keening. One hand holds his head close, the other runs down his side soothingly, settling on his hip and squeezing gently.
"You're so good to me," he whispers against Crowley's lips, wings trembling from each careful touch. "No one could ever love me like you do."
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But someone saying they're beautiful, Aziraphale calling any part of him beautiful...oh, that makes him groan. "They'd better not," he manages, his voice rasping. "Because I am not sharing now that I've finally got you. Just so we're clear on that." Hands on wings are good, but it's not enough now, and they wander along Aziraphale's upper back, his neck, and one goes lower back to his waist and starts teasing at all those too-neatly arranged clothes, waistcoat and tucked in shirt and there are buttons pressed between them that he has had honest-to-Lucifer erotic dreams about undoing, sometimes with his teeth.
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"You have me," he breathes, his grip on Crowley's hip tightening as if needing to anchor himself against the tempest of passion within him. "And I don't intend to share you, either. You're all I've ever wanted, Crowley. There's never been anyone else."
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It's one of the problems of wings, that they really get in the way, and stop you doing things like flipping your angel onto his back so you can ravish your way down his chest, and woe betide things like waistcoats that inhibit your progress. Pinned as he is, Crowley has to get more creative.
Fine. He can do creative. He can nip at Aziraphale's neck, nibble and suck his way up to the ear, flick his tongue sinfully into the lobe. He can sneak one of those hands under all the layers and press it to the bare skin at the base of Aziraphale's spine. He can rub and move and press, and he can do all those things at once, and how will sensual, hedonistic Aziraphale, who makes noises that are almost bloody orgasmic while eating sushi, react to those? He's wondered since forever.
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From Crowley, it's another matter entirely.
"Crowley~" he moans, stretching out the demon's name into at least three or four syllables. "Oh... oh you wily serpent..." The tip of his wings skate the floor as he unconsciously presses into that touch against his back, overcome by its intimacy. It sets alight a heady sort of anticipation within him, this drag and tug of clothes as Crowley attempts to get at more of his bare skin, pinned down though he is by a softly keening angel.
He squeezes Crowley's hip again, his other hand roaming aimlessly, wanting to touch in return but not knowing where to start. Everything is so new, an exotic banquet that he's only read about, never experienced for himself, not until now. "Should we get up?" he queries with a quick gasp. "Do this -- oh -- somewhere properly?"
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He used to read in bed on occasion, as it seemed like a pleasant place to do it. He never slept in it, and he certainly never imagined taking Crowley up to it, curling up around him in the flannel sheets, exchanging kisses while they... well, that's as far as his 'never imagining' went, but now it's quite likely to become a reality, and his heart pounds wildly at the notion.
His wings are in the way, his clothes are in the way, but his skin breaks out into gooseflesh anyway from Crowley's touch. "I haven't done anything," he protests weakly. He places a hand on Crowley's shoulder and pushes himself up enough so that he can look down at him, eyebrows tilted up worriedly even as the rest of his face glows with absolute adoration. "I haven't even made an Effort yet. I want to do things to you, too, but I don't know how."
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But Aziraphale leans up and Crowley leans back so they can get a look at each other, and even as Aziraphale speaks Crowley reaches up a hand and brushes fingers over those eyebrows, trying to soothe them back into place. "Don't look so worried, angel. You've read more books than anyone else on the planet, and I know how salacious some of the classics are, you know more than you think. Probably more than I do." Yes, he just admitted he hasn't done this either. No, he absolutely does not give a blessing. "We'll just...figure it out, yeah? As we go. Both of us."
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It's why he's worried, why he wants to argue that there's so much he doesn't know, but that soothing touch to his face calms him, gives him pause while Crowley reassures him in so many words. "They're novels, not instruction manuals," he retorts, but the anxious note in his voice has already melted away, replaced with soft humor. He can read between the lines; Crowley has never done this before, either. The thought fills him with tenderness. "But... yes, you're right. We'll figure it out together, as we always have."
He turns his head to kiss the palm of Crowley's hand, as if in promise, then gets off of him and onto his knees. His hands remain on Crowley, beckoning him to get up off the floor. "If it's all the same to you, dear, I'd like to figure it out on my bed." He smiles, face flushed and clothes disheveled. "I'll even miracle the books off of it."
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The first time Crowley has ever interrupted Aziraphale in the middle of eating. XD
oh GOD that's awful and also true
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Sonic?!? Stupid autocorrect, sorry. :(
No worries! At least it was an entertaining autocorrect fail.
Sonic, grumble grumble grumble...seriously phone, why...
No more video games for your phone, it's picking up the wrong words. XD
It used to be a Sega Genesis but has been reincarnated as a phone.
It's clearly having flashbacks to its former life.
Dammit phone why couldn't you have been a PlayStation
It would have snuck in a "crash bandicoot" when you weren't looking.
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thanks for the mental image of Hastur in a bikini. :P
It was too good to keep to myself. ;)
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headcanon: for Christmas he absolutely gets them gag t-shirts along these lines.
Headcanon accepted! Aziraphale can wear his with his house cardigan. :)
Two t-shirts, two buttons, so they can do both at once. ;)
Brilliant! XD
I want art of it. Also sorry so slow.
No worries! I hope you're staying safe and healthy wherever you are. <3
Scotland, and yup. We started isolating early. Hope you're safe and well!! Also do we continue/stop?
Massachusetts, 3 weeks so far. :/ But we're healthy and safe!
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