faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

It's a great comfort and relief to have Crowley support him. His bones feel like jelly and Crowley has only worked two fingers in. As his prostate is so exquisitely stroked yet again, he moans and clings even more tightly to Crowley's lean frame. His cock is untouched and yet somehow throbbing as if it were, and he squirms in a vain attempt to get himself under control.

"Yes, still good. In fact, I think you'd best get on with preparing me. I'm very close."

The combination of those words going to his head--both heads-- and the way Aziraphale is clinging to him, not to mention the sheer blissful intimacy of it all, means Crowley's not all that far off either for all that he hasn't done anything but rub himself against Aziraphale.

He doesn't even nod, just seizes Aziraphale in another kiss. Less slow now, less deliberate, he's been trying to be patient but the smell of sex and the warmth around his fingers has been driving him mad all along. He slides another finger in, stretches, even as his tongue plunders Aziraphale's mouth, this time without mercy. It's all so good, is the thing, he'd thought he'd imagined how good this would be but nothing he ever dreamt of came close to the reality. He makes a low whimpering noise into Aziraphale's mouth and clutches at his hip with his free hand, encouraging Aziraphale to move against his fingers. "Want you," he manages breathlessly somewhere between increasingly messy kisses. "Fuck, angel, so much--"

Aziraphale returns the kiss greedily, bucking back against Crowley's fingers once he's added the third one. Now that he understands the mechanics, he finds himself desperately impatient for Crowley's cock to be inside him. Not that the demon's fingers aren't blissfully attentive, but he wants to be closer, as close as their bodies can fit.

There's another great shiver of his wings when Crowley says that he wants him.

"Then take me, I'm ready." He feels ready, comfortably snug around three fingers. Surely that's enough, and a generous addition of lubrication to Crowley's cock will likely take care of the rest. He slides his lips up to Crowley's ear and whispers hotly, "Get inside me, Crowley. I want you."

The groan that rips from Crowley's throat is raw with need. He'd meant to take longer at this, be absolutely certain, but he's only a demon and no one, now one could resist that demand in that voice from this angel. No one. Least of all him.

He withdraws his fingers, gets them oiled up again, and takes himself in hand. Another groan as he slicks himself up. The temptation to just keep going is there, fuck both their cocks in his hand, Satan, it'd be so easy, they'd come so quickly...

Get inside me.

Crowley's breathing is already wrecked with impatience as Aziraphale lifts himself up on his knees, as Crowley helps him get positioned, gets his cock in place. Rubs the reddened head of it against the the pucker he's been stretching and exploring.

Fuck, this is probably going to kill him. What a way to go. Discorporating from pure overwhelming lust and adoration...Crowley breathes in deep, tries to focus, tries to think of something horribly unsexy so he doesn't finish before they've even started. Crayfish. Gabriel's teeth. Hastur in a bikini.

As dizzy as he is with arousal, he can't help but smirk at the sound Crowley makes in response to his demand. He'll have to file that information away for later. Right now, he's feeling unpleasantly empty once Crowley removes his fingers, so he's quick to rise up on his knees and let himself get positioned. It takes the edge off a bit, trying to find the best angle, although his arousal flares back to life the moment that he feels Crowley's cock pressing against his slick ring of muscle.

Oh, goodness, this is it. It shouldn't feel so momentous -- they've switched souls in these bodies, this really shouldn't compare -- and yet he finds himself trembling with anticipation, anyway.

He looks up at Crowley and sees how much this is affecting him, too. It fills him with a sudden swell of intense affection and he presses a kiss to that beautiful, inviting mouth.

"I love you," he whispers into it, and then he lowers himself onto Crowley's cock.

There's an initial resistance, but Crowley prepared him well and the head slides in a moment later. He presses down, slowly taking more of Crowley inside him. There's no pain, no irritation, only a feeling of fullness that grows and grows the lower he sits, until he bottoms out and rests flush in Crowley's lap once more. His eyes flutter shut and his mouth forms the loveliest little smile. "Oh, my dear... you feel so good..."

Tentatively, he rocks back and forth, just a touch, getting used to the sensation.

Crowley keeps still, lets Aziraphale choose the pace and control this part, even if the effort leaves him trembling from the sheer intensity of it. His fingers flex against Aziraphale's hips as he tries not to just...just grab him and pull, or hold him in place while he thrusts up, or anything. Just, being still, but the need to move escapes in shaking and twitching fingers and rivulets of sweat running down his neck and back.

But worth every bit of self-restraint, because Aziraphale's face is a wonder of concentration and amazement, and he feels so good around Crowley's cock, dear Sa--Go--Somebody. Aziraphale is hot and welcoming and surrounding him, and Crowley wants to tilt his head to kiss that sweet smile.

But then Aziraphale moves, and Crowley makes another embarassing keening noise as he rests his head against Aziraphale's shoulder. "Angel--" he whimpers, moving only a little, trying to match what Aziraphale is doing. "Fuck, angel, you--you're--"

Aziraphale slides an arm around Crowley's shoulders, the other reaching down to cover Crowley's hand on his hip. He lets those twin points of contact be his anchor as he continues to rock himself in Crowley's lap. It feels like he is being touched everywhere, by the cock inside of him and the wings surrounding him. All he can feel is Crowley.

"You're magnificent." It comes out as a hushed gasp, as if they are in the middle of a sacred ritual. He kisses the demon's hairline and licks the sweat from his skin. "Glorious." He lifts up an inch and settles back down, then does it again. He's so full, but it's a smooth thrust each time. Oh, yes, that's it. With any luck he'll find that spot that made him see stars earlier, but it's already worth it to hear the sounds Crowley is making. He could climax from that alone.

Crowley wraps one of his arms around Aziraphale's waist, splays his hand against his back, fingers digging in to his spine below his wings. Aziraphale's hand covers his on the angel's hip, and he squeezes their fingers together. They're entangled and joined and surrounding each other in so many places. Aziraphale's lips taste his forehead; Crowley sucks another love-bite into his neck. "Perfect," he gasps afterwards, looking up at Aziraphale with breathless adoration. "Perfect, you're--this is--"

His eyelids flutter shut and he groans as Aziraphale takes him in to the root again. "--love you--" he manages, barely knowing what he's saying, barely knowing anything aside from the overwhelming pulse of pleasure he's drowning in. "Aziraphale. Angel. Love you." It's all around him, so much love, he can feel it, he can feel it, inside and out.

Aziraphale gets lost for a moment in Crowley's eyes. He's never felt so adored, and yet he knows that Crowley has wanted to love him like this for so long. It's as if he's thrown open the shutters of his heart and finally let all that light pour in and set everything aglow.

"You're perfect, too," he pants as he moves, each lift and fall more rhythmic than the last. If he had the power to think past the pure raw pleasure between them, he'd be impressed with how easily he's getting the hang of things. "All of you, inside me and around me, you're --"

A sudden bright spark of pleasure rushes through him and he sobs out loud. Ah, found it. "Right there," he whimpers, clutching tightly to Crowley as he shifts his hips to keep that angle. "Darling, right there, please."

He'll never get used to all these new let names, the darlings and dearests. He doesn't want to get used to them. They send nervous thrills down his spine, even now.

Crowley groans when Aziraphale sobs, because fuck, how it possible he did something to cause that noise? He swivels his hips, finds the right angle, and then he's hitting it on every stroke, trying to get more of that needy wail.

Crowley is in for a treat, then, because once their hips align, Aziraphale loses whatever shred of composure he had left and moans with abandon, a wanton song of praises for his beloved. There are darlings and dearests interspersed with yes and don't stop, and -- on one particularly splendid thrust -- a sharp, uncensored fuck! that leaves his mouth when all other words fail him.

White-hot pleasure pulses underneath his skin, quivers in every feather of his wings. It presses against him from the inside, rises and rises. He rides on the precipice of his climax, but is afraid of letting go of Crowley to touch himself, needing that anchor, that grounding to his live wire. "Crowley -- please --" he sobs. "I'm -- I'm so close --"

If Crowley ever prayed, he'd pray never to forget this. He wants it written on his skin, on the backs of his eyelids, he doesn't want to see or hear or feel anything else again, just this, just Aziraphale. all those needy gasps and endearments and swear words and please and his name, his name, mixed in with all of it. Six thousand years to get to this point and it was worth every blessed second.

"Yes--yes--" Fuck,he won't last either, not with Aziraphale begging him like this, not while he gets to move and bury himself to the hilt inside his angel. His angel, and Crowley groans, wraps a hand around Aziraphale's cock and strokes in time with his thrusts. "Yes, angel, come on, come for me, stay with me, stay with me--"

Later he might be embarassed by that last, because those three words are the ones he'd had to hold back all this time, all these centuries. Not saying I love you was easy in comparison to not asking for what he really wanted. But nothing's held back now, nothing, and Crowley gives and takes pleasure with equal abandon as those words pound in his veins.

Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me.

Crowley's hand on his cock sets him further on the edge, but it's those words -- stay with me -- that tip him over. He cries out once more, eyes shut and head tilted back, all the lovely marks that Crowley has sucked into it on display. It feels like it goes on forever, long after he's finished spilling out over himself and Crowley's hand, the aftershocks sending out great shivers through his wings, pressed up as they are against Crowley's.

He slouches forward, holding onto Crowley while he continues to ride him, aching for the demon to release inside of him, to experience that exquisite bit of claiming. "Always," he gasps. "Always and forever, I'm yours."

Crowley keeps ahold of himself long enough to see Aziraphale lose control, to hold him and push him through it, rambling nonsense encouragement and praise all the while without any real awareness of the words. His thrusting eases while he's distracted with watching Aziraphale, feeling the angel's wings trembling against his. Feeling his whole body shake with ecstacy.

If anything on Heaven or Earth is a blessing, this is. Of that he's sure.

But he's wrong, because then Aziraphale collapses on him, clutching, and says I'm yours, and that's it for Crowley. He cries out, suddenly thrusting just a few more times up into Aziraphale, hard and deep, and comes with the word angel in his mouth. And oh God and Satan and everything, it's perfect, it's the most miraculous thing ever to happen, and he shudders in Aziraphale's arm and collapses on him in turn and it's a wonder they don't both just fall over.

But they're supporting each other, balancing each other. As they always have, he thinks, returning to some sort of dizzy awareness.

It's a while before Crowley is able to raise his head enough to meet Aziraphale's eyes, and he's not even aware that his own are wet with tears.

Somewhere in that dizzying haze of post-orgasmic bliss, Aziraphale feels those final hard thrusts and distantly thinks that he might like a round of love-making where Crowley does that the entire time. It's a short-lived thought, replaced with the nearly indescribable sensation of Crowley coming inside him. He keeps the strength to support Crowley in his arms, marveling at how fortunate he is to share this moment with the being he loves more than anything.

With wings cocooned around them and limbs holding one another steady, the angel hoards this precious moment as he does any other, committing it to memory, letting the sound of Crowley's breathing keep him in the present, savoring every last drop of it. When Crowley finally looks up to meet his eyes, he kisses each cheek, and then his forehead, before tilting his head and nuzzling the snake tattoo at Crowley's temple.

He wishes he had the words to express the profoundness of what they just shared, but when his mouth opens, all that comes out is a soft, plaintive, "Dearest."

Crowley makes a small whimper of a sound, closing his eyes as Aziraphale brushes angelic lips over the tattoo. The kisses to cheek and forehead felt a little like benediction, but this feels a little closer to blasphemy.

But it's neither. None of these kisses and caresses are either, every gesture belongs just to them. It's all theirs, and that's why Crowley will hold it sacred. He bends his head, leaning in to that touch. "Been wanting you to call me that for a thousand years. Two. More."

"Then I'll have to make up for lost time. Dearest." He presses another kiss to Crowley's tattoo, then across his face again, each one followed by a dearest or my dearest. More than a mere pet name, as Crowley truly is the most loved and cherished in his angelic heart.

Wrapped up as he is in Crowley's embrace, Aziraphale never wants to let go, but his thighs are starting to ache from how he's perched in Crowley's lap. "Can we lie down for a little while, darling?"

Crowley shudders at that repetition of dearest, clutches at Aziraphale's skin as the word washes over him. Dearest. Unloved and unforgivable and unwanted in the eyes of God and Heaven and Hell, but dearest here.

Nothing has ever felt this perfect or precious.

But he's exhausted too, drained physically and emotionally. "Yeah..." It only sounds a little reluctant. He turns his face and steals another kiss, sweet and lingering, before sighing and bringing his hands back to Aziraphale's hips. "Yeah. So long as I still get to hold you while we do it." He smiles, his face tired but open, easy to read. "Been waiting for that darling, too."

Aziraphale returns the kiss, chasing Crowley's lips before laughing quietly at himself. They'll never lie down at this rate, but, God, he really needs to. "Of course," he replies, scoffing at the very idea that they wouldn't remained entwined with one another while horizontal. "Let me just --"

He rolls his shoulders and his wings disappear. He shivers a bit as Crowley's feathers brush his bare back and he murmurs, "Leave those out, if you like, darling." The logistics of two sets of wings out while lying down is too much for his tired mind to handle, but he likes the idea of remaining curled up in all that soft warmth.

With a soft sound of disappointment, he shifts up and feels Crowley slide out of him. As he lies down, he miracles away the mess, but not the ache that remains. Once he's settled comfortably, he holds out his arms, beckoning Crowley into them. "Anything else you've been waiting to be called, my beautiful treasure?"

There's not an easy way to do this part, it seems, this messy disentangling. It's both a relief and a loss when he withdraws. Aziraphale handles the mess before Crowley can decide what to do about it, then lays down. Reaches up for him. Aziraphale, reaching out to him.

Crowley is losing count of how many things he's wanted that he's suddenly been granted.

He does put his wings away. He's too tired, and he doesn't want to deal with them at present, he wants to be as close to his angel as possible for as long as possible as comfortably as possible. Aziraphale getting to used him as a feathery blanket will need to wait for another day.

There will be another day, there will be more of this, and Crowley still has a lump in his throat as he lies down and lets Aziraphale wrap arms around him. He buries his face in the angel's chest, under his chin. "Anything where you call me yours." He chuckles suddenly and kisses the skin near his mouth. "Though I never thought of that one. Beautiful treasure, really?"

Having Crowley wrapped up around him more than makes up for the lack of wings. Besides, the bed has regular blankets to keep them cozy, one of which (a soft gray, not tartan) he pulls over them. He knows that Crowley has plans to make love to him for days on end, but there's time enough for a relaxing cuddle here and there, in his not so humble opinion.

"Yours," he agrees, nearly melting at the words. Crowley's question makes him smile innocently. "What? You most certainly are both." He laughs quietly and runs a hand along his sinuous spine in long, thoughtful strokes. "I've been calling you whatever comes to mind, although I suspect certain terms of endearment are off the table. You aren't a pumpkin or a dumpling. No one says chuckaboo anymore, do they? It's too bad, I would have liked to have called you that when it was in fashion."

Crowley has always been willing to make time to curl up under a blanket, and doing it with his angel is a dream come true. More sex is definitely on the cards, but this is part of lovemaking too. One of his favorite parts, already. He all but purrs, curling into those strokes along his back.

"Definitely not pumpkin," he murmurs, drowsy and content. "And I'll curse you if you try dumpling. Sweetheart would be good. And..." He clears his throat. "...might not mind chuckaboo. Coming from you. Very you sort of word. But not too often. Let me keep a few shreds of my dignity."

Aziraphale nuzzles into his hair, trying to hide his smile when Crowley confesses to his preference. "Only on the most special of occasions, then." He kisses the top of Crowley's head, and then whispers into his ear, "My darling chuckaboo."

He'll have to keep 'dumpling' in his back pocket for occasions when a little revenge is in order.

Wiggling a bit into the sheets, he strokes Crowley's back and rolls slightly to the side, the better to look his beloved in the face. "Will you keep your dignity if I call you dearest in public? My dearest? I want everyone to know that you're mine."

There's nothing for it. Drained as he is, Crowley still has to dive in for another kiss at that, fervent and passionate.

"Sod my dignity," he manages somewhere during this activity, pulling Aziraphale in as close as he can manage. "Tattoo it on my forehead. Dearest Crowley, if found please return to Aziraphale. Call me it everywhere, all the time. Never stop."

Oh, that is the most lovely response he could have ever asked for. He returns the kiss as best as he can while smiling like a lovesick fool. "All right, then, my darling. Dearest. We can skip the tattoo, although that does have a nice ring to it."

He cuddles close, hands shifting to the small of Crowley's back, tucking the demon's head back under his chin. "Now, then. I do insist on a proper snuggle, at least for a short while, before we get back to that checklist of yours. I know it's not a particularly racy fantasy, but I've dreamed about doing this for quite some time, and you are especially warm and cozy right now."

Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

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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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