faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

Crowley has no doubt they'll figure this out, not when just that light kiss on his palm could undo him, just Aziraphale smiling at him like that. "Wherever you want," he manages, and it comes out a little croaky because his mouth's gone dry. He takes Aziraphale's hand, lets himself be pulled to his feet. "Though...can we put the wings away, for now? Happily to explore them as much as you want later, if you like, but..." He slinks an arm around Aziraphale's waist, kisses at the other ear, the one that hasn't received as much attention. "Bit in the way, for a bed."

Aziraphale takes a moment to reply, distracted as he is by Crowley's arm around his waist, that kiss upon his ear. He hums softly in acquiescence, his wings shaking out one last shiver before folding tightly against his back and then disappearing entirely. "I was thinking the same thing," he admits. "It's a bit cramped up there."

He slips out of Crowley's grasp, but only so he can take his arm and lead him more effectively to the back room of the shop, and then through a door and up a stairway to a flat that clearly doesn't get much use based on the amount of books covering nearly every available surface.

There is a bed underneath all that, over in the corner. It's a Victorian style, because that's the era that Aziraphale got it in his head to try reading in bed for the first time. It's only covered in a few books, so Aziraphale moves them by hand and uses his miracle to clear away the dust. What's left is a full-size bed with a plush headboard and footboard, soft white sheets and duvet and a plethora of pillows. Aziraphale slips out of his jacket and folds it over the back of a nearby chair, then takes a seat on the edge of the bed, wiggling a little to test its resistance.

"Well?" He smiles up at Crowley and pats the space next to him. "Care to see if it meets your standards?"

Crowley makes a disappointed noise when Aziraphale moves out of close reach, even if it's temporary, even if they're walking upstairs to his bedroom, an idea his mind is barely able to wrap itself around. So much time waiting, and wondering, and being more than half-convinced what's happening now was never, ever going to be a possibility, much less a reality...

Crowley's more than a little dazed, and the fact that he and Aziraphale have been rolling on the ground snogging each other senseless is only part of why.

He perks up a little upon seeing the room, though, natural curiosity coming into play. Looks unused, and unused by the sort of mind that thinks every available flat surface is a bookshelf. Crowley finds it amusing. He usually hates clutter--Hell was cluttered, crowded, dirty and dark and no space to breathe anywhere--but Aziraphale's clutter feels...well. Homey. Comfortable.

...bless it, he really is smitten. The way his heart flutters when Aziraphale sits on the bed and pats it for him to sit just confirms it, as though the question were in any doubt whatsoever. "You're in it, angel," Crowley says, smiling and taking Aziraphale's hand. "S'already the best bed ever."

It's flirting at its finest, and Aziraphale is far from immune, blushing and dropping his gaze sweetly to their joined hands. "I think it's even better with you here with me," he replies, his voice gone husky. The reality of the moment is catching up to him, but he's leaning into it instead of shying away. He wants this, and whatever comes next.

Once Crowley's sitting down, he tugs him a shade closer and kisses him slowly. Purposefully, as he has a better sense now of what he can do with his mouth to draw out all those sounds from Crowley that he likes best. He keeps his hand in Crowley's while the other moves to the small of his back, then underneath his black jacket. He's not so bold as to ruck up his shirt, but he does confidently run his hand up and down Crowley's spine between those layers of fabric.

"I believe you were doing something interesting with your tongue earlier," he murmurs, when the kiss ends. "Shall I return the favor?"

"Well, obviously," Crowley teases, just before their mouths meet again. His low laugh gets caught up in another kiss. All of Crowley gets caught up in it, nothing left unclaimed, nothing that doesn't want to be loosed in any way.

Aziraphale is quickly learning the art of kissing, that's for sure, his tongue delving and exploring in delicious ways, and fingers teasing up his spine somewhere between layers...Crowley likes his clothes but he's never been more interested in getting out of them in his life. "Yeah--" he manages, more than a little breathless. Did the kiss end? Because Crowley's still chasing after it. His mouth lands somewhere on Aziraphale's chin, and that's fine too, and hey look, a jawline...he's supposed to be letting Aziraphale turn the tables on him but the angel is just so damn kissable and his neck is right here so really, what's a poor demon to do but take advantage?

Aziraphale lets out a soft groan as Crowley utterly ruins his plans and greedily continues to kiss him, but he can't find it in himself to be annoyed. Not when Crowley is pressing his mouth so tenderly above the line of his collar. "You... oh. Oh, Crowley..."

Of course, he's not about to let his newfound confidence fizzle out. Not when desire is so thoroughly stirred up within him. He lets go of Crowley's hand so that it can join the one underneath his jacket, and this time he lets both explore with impunity, running down Crowley's spine and along his sides, tracing out all those delightfully sharp, narrow lines. And if he finds a particularly sensitive or ticklish spot, well, the demon only has himself to blame.

If Crowley's hands are free, he can use them to take his jacket off. That's a good plan. He hisses a little as Aziraphale finds a sensitive spot down the side of his ribs, something not-quite-ticklish, and distraction from that means he bites at Aziraphale's neck instead of kissing. Whoops. But then biting seems a good plan too, so a few more of those, just small little nibbles...the angel has to understand that need, given how much he likes tasting things...

And once his jacket's off his hands are free again, to do things like undo fiddly waistcoat buttons, but at that point Crowley stops. He might actually be blushing. "This--" He nods his head towards the waistcoat. "...can I?"

...yes, it's ridiculous, but he's been wanting that waistcoat our of the way for centuries, bless it. Aziraphale not in the waistcoat has become the equivalent of other people looking at their partners in lingerie.

There's a sharp gasp at the accidental bite, but all is forgiven as Crowley continues nibbling at the soft skin of his neck. It's not enough to hurt, but the angel's skin is so sensitive; it blooms pink with every little nip. It makes him forget to exploit that spot on Crowley's ribs, simply holding onto the demon while he makes a soft sound of approval.

He's vaguely aware of Crowley removing his jacket and then going for the waistcoat buttons. When Crowley stops and asks permission, he blinks out of his haze and looks at him in mild surprise. Not because he asked, but because of the blushing. What has Crowley so bashful? It's just his waistcoat. His favorite waistcoat, yes, but he trusts Crowley with the buttons.

It's rather endearing, whatever the cause. "Sweet boy." He kisses the color on Crowley's cheeks, hands sliding onto his back and rubbing lazy circles there. "Of course you can."

Crowley growls a little. "Shut it. 'm not either of those." Sweet or a boy, he means. Though he is flushing a bit more from that kiss on the cheek, the warmth of hands stroking at his back.

He looks down at the waistcoat, watches himself undo the buttons, black fingernails pushing cloth-covered circles through buttonholes. Aziraphale will never understand just how significant that is for him, he's sure, never. Second only to removing the tartan bowtie. Stuffy buttoned-up angel, finally letting himself be loosened and vulnerable and approachable and oh Christ, now every button's undone and Crowley can slide the waistcoat off entirely and he makes a small mewling sort of noise as he steals another kiss, lapping at Aziraphale's mouth with his tongue.

He holds Crowley a little tighter, though not enough to interfere with waistcoat removal. "Precious demon, then," he says, with another kiss to his cheek. "Lovely occult being. Dearest. Dearheart." He's not about to ease up on the compliments just because Crowley growls about it. In fact, that little growl might have only spurred him on.

Perhaps Aziraphale understands the significance, just a little, because once his waistcoat has joined Crowley's jacket, he reaches up and undoes his bowtie, all on his own. If Crowley can let his guard down with such soft, needy noises, he can do the same.

He returns the kiss, lips parting, then moves his mouth to Crowley's jawline, up to his ear, finally returning what has been so sweetly given to him, gentle nips and soothing licks, his hands wandering up and down Crowley's back, tugging absently at the fabric of his shirt.

Crowley might snort at the first two, not unamused by this retort, but his breath catches noticeably at dearest, and dearheart earns a slight whimper. Aziraphale undoing his bowtie earns another. Aziraphale's lips brushing along his face and earlobe causes a sound that can only be described as a moan.

Oh well. He knew as soon as he agreed to go out for karaoke that his dignity was going to be an inevitable sacrifice to the evening, and this is the best possible way for it to die. Buried under angelic kisses and endearments.

Crowley turns his head and this time the kiss he steals is openly needy, hungry, back to the way they were downstairs. He pushes Aziraphale back down on the bed and follows after, leaning over him, one hand cradling the angel's face as he takes kiss after kiss after kiss, or gives them, or both.

He can't help but smile, lips curving up against the shell of Crowley's ear, in response to all the lovely sounds that his demon makes. "My love," he murmurs throatily, before Crowley captures his mouth and silences his litany of verbal affection. Oh, it feels so good to call him such things, to kiss him back just as hungrily, to no longer deny the love he has for Crowley, fit to overflowing.

There is only a soft note of surprise when he's tipped back onto the bed. In another context, a demon looming over an angel would be considered threatening, but Aziraphale feels as safe as he's ever been, the comfortable mattress below him and Crowley cradling his face while they exchange kisses. Distantly, he congratulates himself on suggesting the change of venue as he tries to emulate Crowley's position from earlier. A leg hooks around the demon's and his hands tug more purposefully on Crowley's shirt, trying to untuck it from his pants.

"May I?" he asks breathlessly between kisses. Caught up in the pleasure of Crowley's mouth, he hadn't thought to ask initially, but Crowley did, so he assumes he should as well.

Edited 2019-10-27 03:02 (UTC)

"Ngk," is the only answer to that 'my love', but it's a fervent one. Just as fervent as the "God, yes, anything," response when Aziraphale pulls on Crowley's shirt. He's pretty sure it's wanting permission to undress him, but honestly it doesn't matter. Whatever Aziraphale is asking, the answer is yes.

Crowley pulls up for a minute, helping to pull the relevant garments off. Shirt and his own waistcoat all at once, and he tugs off the small scarf thing and the chain while he's at it, flinging the lot off somewhere to the side. Normally he's more neat, but at this moment neatness is so very, very unimportant. Especially in comparison to kissing Aziraphale some more, and starting to undo his shirt buttons, because now that Crowley is half-naked all he can think about is getting Aziraphale into the same state.

Despite asking, he's not much help as Crowley essentially strips his upper half in one go. In truth, he only wanted access to Crowley's skin, but this! This is good. This so good. He rests his hands on Crowley's newly bared waist and looks up at him with a dopey expression on his face. "Good Lord, you are beautiful, darling."

He could go on, but Crowley is kissing him again, and there is all that naked torso to explore, which he does. Liberally. His hands slide and stroke, relearning how all those lines and edges feel without fabric in the way. It's so blessedly wonderful that it takes him a while to notice his own shirt buttons being undone. It causes him on a moment of uncertainty -- oh, but Crowley has already told him how much he loves his softness. His hands resume their unabashed exploration.

Crowley may have made a terrible, terrible, wonderful mistake, because now that he has Aziraphale's hands all over his skin he's never going to be able to think straight again. His fingers keep slipping off the buttons on Aziraphale's shirt as he arches into all that touch, warm and caressing and fuck, he almost wants to purr, but he wants at Aziraphale's skin to return the distraction much, much, more.

Four buttons done is enough to let him kiss Aziraphale's upper chest, and from then on every button undone earns a kiss to follow, as he travels lower on Aziraphale's stomach. There is no question given the reverence in his lips, the low pleased sounds he makes, that he absolutely loves what he finds, all that smoothness and softness and Aziraphale. Once he gotten down to the belly button he surges back up, catches Aziraphale's mouth in an urgent kiss, puts his hands on the angel's hips and rolls them over on the bed.

Back to the position they were in downstairs, but fuck, this is better. There's a soft mattress under him and a soft angel above him and they're skin to skin, chest to chest, hands everywhere, and Crowley groans. "You are perfect," he whispers into Aziraphale's mouth. "You, you're--fuck, angel, you're everything--"

Aziraphale continues to map out the beauty of Crowley's torso until he's undone by those precious, reverent kisses to his chest. He shuts his eyes, holding back a sudden well of tears at how tender it is. This is love, it's all he feels with each bit of himself exposed, no longer shy, but humbled by the depth and breadth of it.

He's rolled over without complaint, although his shivering returns, and if his wings were out, they'd be quaking hard enough to shed feathers. It's nearly too much, the press of all that skin together, and, oh, it is perfect. He moans helplessly at Crowley's words, swept up in the pleasure of it.

"It feels so good," he whimpers, kissing back haphazardly, his hands sliding into Crowley's hair and holding fast. "I swear, Crowley, I never knew it could feel like this --"

"Me neither," Crowley rasps. "Thought--hoped it would, thought about it all the bloody time, but--"

This babbling is interrupted by a sudden groan, his whole body shuddering as Aziraphale grips his hair, fingers tangling and holding and, intentionally or not, pulling a little. "Oh, oh fuck, do that again, with the hair--" His body lifts under Aziraphale's, and they're going to need to do something about that, about, about the clothes and the things that go under the clothes, but there's fingers in his hair and Aziraphale's breath in his mouth and it is so hard to think right now.

Aziraphale makes a sound of questioning surprise when Crowley bucks against him, but all is revealed to him soon enough. That request -- in that voice -- following that groan -- well, honestly, how can he possibly refuse?

One hand grips tighter in his hair, pulling experimentally, just short of actual pain. The other he places flat on the bed to give him enough leverage to push up and watch Crowley's reaction. It must be important to demand something that specific, he wants to see what effect it has on Crowley. Dimly, he's also aware of the clothes between them, as well as the fact that he hasn't bothered to shrug out of his shirt yet, but this is far more important.

Something else that was revealed during that unintentional buck: one of them, at least, already has something under his clothes, and it's already hard and insistent and demanding attention. It's a visible thing now as well as something that can be felt, for all that Crowley's jeans are still in the way.

But for now he groans again, a blatantly needy noise, as the fingers tugging on his hair send spikes of fire racing through him. Go--Sa--Fuck but it feels good, it feels amazing, and when he thinks of combining it with other things..."Angel--" He reaches back up, pulls Aziraphale's mouth back down, tugs a little on those curls to see if Aziraphale will react the same way.

Aziraphale watches, delighted, whatever worry he might have had about the tightness of his grip vanishing in the wake of Crowley's needy groan. He lets out a quiet oof when he's pulled back down to Crowley's mouth, quickly followed by a groan of his own when his his curls are tugged.

"Naughty," he murmurs, and gives Crowley's hair another sharp pull, the same as before. This time, he keeps the demon's head tilted back so that he can suck a love bite onto his exposed neck -- or tries to, anyway. He's never done this before, and the novels he's read aren't very specific about the mechanics...

As he presses his weight against Crowley to keep him still, he finally becomes aware of the demon's hardness pressing into him. Oh, that's not his hipbone, is it? Sweat prickles down his back, his open shirt suddenly much more of annoyance. A quick gesture with the hand not in Crowley's hair and he miracles it away. Good riddance.

"Crowley," he whispers into his ear. "Should I -- Is this a good time for me to make an Effort?"

"You knew that," Crowley retorts, though it breaks off into another raw, needy sound as Aziraphale pulls his head back and sucks on his mouth, fucking Christ that feels better than it has any business doing...Crowley's had that done to him before back in the day, but it did not feel like this, it did not inspire anything like this sort of reaction--

It takes a good deal of effort to draw his attention back to words, to make sense of what Aziraphale is saying. "Ngh?" he manages. Realizing this is unhelpful, he tries again. "Yeah, might--might be handy--'f you want--don't have to, 'm good--"

Honestly if Aziraphale doesn't want to and just wants to use hands and mouth, Crowley will be more than fine with that option, provided they don't have to stop. Especially since that shirt is gone and it's suddenly much easier to run hands all over Aziraphale's back, tease nails down the spine, pull him in and suck on his neck in return to see how he likes it.

One way or another, the angel gets a handle on his technique. He pulls back a moment to admire his handiwork before kissing the spot soothingly. "Beautiful," he murmurs against his skin. "You're so beautiful." All of him, he means, as his mouth travels down his neck, along his collarbone, nipping and licking wherever he fancies. Crowley is a temptation merely by existing, but his body, the sounds he make, they feed into his desire and entwine with his feelings of love until it's all the same.

Which is why, when Crowley stutters out his mangled reply, he also wonders if it's necessary. He has all he wants right here. He feels his own passion burning bright when Crowley runs nails down his spine, when his own skin is sucked hard, a sharp snap that has him moaning, not only in pleasure but at the implication that Crowley is leaving evidence of their love-making.

But Crowley feels so good beneath him, so urgent and needy. He wants to experience that, too. "I-- I'd like --" he gasps, squirming a little as Crowley has his way with him. "--to know what it's like for you."

Of course, he'll need to be able to concentrate to do so. So perhaps not quite at this particular moment.

"--right," Crowley croaks, trying to rein himself in a little, which is difficult when Aziraphale's been mouthing all over his chest and calling him beautiful. Not a word that would have affected him much from anyone else, but this is Aziraphale. "Right, should--we should talk about that." Because they should, this is important, and yeah he's eager but he can wait a few minutes. Aziraphale isn't going anywhere and Crowley will keep hands firmly on him to make sure of that.

So he rests his hands on the angel's waist, touches their foreheads together, catches his breath for a minute. "Right," he manages again. "Let's...let me get the run of things, here. You've never manifested anything at all, there? Either way?" Male or female parts, he means.

Oh, they're going to talk about this now. Aziraphale pushes himself up on his elbows, hands splayed against Crowley's shoulders so he can look down at him with wide, attentive eyes. He smiles without meaning to, so ridiculously besotted that Crowley is taking the time to ask. "I've manifested male genitalia before. Back when public bathing was popular and it would have led to too many questions if I didn't. Oh, and occasionally while wearing certain styles of trousers, they don't fall right otherwise."

He blushes and swallows. The love bite on his neck has blossomed quite nicely. "I was never... ah, aroused, while having one. I'm curious what that's like, although if... if you prefer female genitalia, that wouldn't be any trouble for me, either."

Edited 2019-11-19 17:07 (UTC)

The longer they wait to talk about this, the harder it will be, for multiple meanings of the phrase. Better to do it now while there's still some change of Crowley being capable of rational thought, as much as he can be with Aziraphale (Aziraphale! Without a shirt!) leaning over him and beaming down with unquestionable affection (ngk) while talking about cocks and bathing naked (NGK).

"...right." He's saying that a lot. More words needed. The sooner he can words, the sooner they can go back to kissing, and other things. "Right. Cock is probably easiest then, you've had one before and they're not hard to figure out. I'm happy with anything."

He stops again, takes a long halting breath, looks up more seriously. "You know that, yeah? I mean it. Whatever you want to try, or not try, I'm fine with it. Cock or cunt or both or neither, on either of us, anything. If you want me to change what I'm sporting, I will. Just say the word. I haven't got a preference, I just want you. Whatever you'll give me. "

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject