faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

Crowley is a little reluctant for either of them to just wave away the evidence, this first time. But it is rather a mess. So he nods.

Once they're free if all the stickiness, he's quick to pull Aziraphale back down into his embrace, roll them back over so he can be on top, his slighter weight pinning the angel to the mattress as Crowley attempts to kiss him breathless. "That was--" Another kiss. "Perfect. You're perfect. Fuck, I love you." And another, and another. "Can't believe I get to say that now. Can't believe I get to do this. If this is a dream, angel, don't wake me up, 'kay? Don't wanna wake up." And more kisses. He'll never have enough of them, not if they're in this bed for another thousand years.

With a snap of his fingers, the mess is gone. Almost as an afterthought, he snaps again, and the knocked over books right themselves in the corner and the vintage lamp is back on the nightstand, although he doesn't fix the obvious dent in the frame of the fringed shade.

A souvenir, he'll tell Crowley, if he asks about it.

He is indeed rendered breathless by those kisses, little gasps of 'love you, too' and 'can do whatever you like' all that he can barely manage. His hands rub firm strokes up and down Crowley's back, not wanting to neglect a moment of touching between them, finally settling over the swell of his buttocks. He squeezes there, affectionately, before lightly pinching a bit of flesh between thumb and forefinger.

"See, my dear boy?" Pure laughter bubbles out of him. "Not a dream at all."

There's a joy to this that's as good as what came before it, this unhurried stroking and new familiarity, the easy kisses and caresses and endearments without the push of immediate need behind them. Light and giddy and wonderful.

Crowley yelps at the sudden sharp pain, then laughs, leaning up a little so he can smirk down at Aziraphale. "Angel, if you really think I've never dreamt about you pinching my arse, you've got another thing coming.'

Aziraphale's laughter peters out, a rosy blush blooming on his face as if he were the one who was pinched. He stares up at Crowley, eyes innocently wide as he absently soothes the squeezed spot on Crowley's backside before drawing up his fingertips in restless lines over his back and sides.

"Is that so?" Clearly, he has a lot to learn about what his lovely demon has fantasized about over the centuries. "What else have you dreamt about me doing to you?" His blush deepens, as does the look in his eyes. "Because I'd very much like to make your dreams come true."

Crowley groans a little. "Careful what you offer, angel," he manages, a little breathless between that admission and the fingers trailing along his back. "It'd take a year or two just to tell you the list, and a few centuries at least to actually do all of them. You don't know what you're getting into."

He steals another kiss, sliding his tongue easily now into Aziraphale's mouth, the feel of it already wonderfully familiar and welcoming.

Aziraphale returns the kiss, his mouth open and inviting. His fingers continue to trail over Crowley's skin, firm enough to avoid tickling, but much more adventurous than earlier, luxuriating in this newfound closeness.

"As it happens," he says when his mouth is finally free, words tumbling out breathlessly. "My schedule is clear. But if you'd rather skip the telling and go right to the showing, I won't complain."

He shifts his hips underneath Crowley's, his Effort already interested in this several century to-do- list, and smiles at Crowley beatifically. If the demon somehow anticipates Aziraphale not being up to the challenge of loving Crowley as thoroughly as he deserves, he's quite happy to prove him wrong. "I only ask that for anything beyond the basics, you give me a chance to do a little research beforehand. I like to be prepared, you know."

Edited 2020-01-03 18:12 (UTC)

Crowley lifts an eloquent eyebrow, feeling the stirring underneath him, feeling himself already reacting to it. If they were fully human refractory periods might be a thing, but as it is those are optional. And the two of them have waited such a long, long time to get to this point...

Crowley leans down again, brushes his nose against Aziraphale's, gives him another light kiss. "Hands-on demonstration, maybe?" he murmurs, more huskily than before.

Then he rolls them over, deepening the kiss again as he lets his hands roam, tracing light, teasing patterns down Aziraphale's back before reaching down and cupping his buttocks, pulling him down flush against him, their hardening cocks rubbing against each other.

Aziraphale has never even heard of a refractory period, and if he had he'd promptly disregard it as a human inconvenience. Crowley's tender nose brushing and kiss make him giggle softly, but before he can say anything in reply, he's being rolled over and atop his partner. To what end, he wonders curiously, before Crowley grabs his literal end and presses their growing erections together.

The sound he makes is swallowed up in their kiss, but he clearly enjoys the sensation, rutting instinctively to feel it again. How ingenious, to stimulate one another like this. "Lovely," he gasps, pulling his mouth away only to plant a line of sucking kisses down Crowley's throat and along his collarbone. "Although I hope the demonstration isn't limited to only hands..."

Crowley gasps and tilts his head back as Aziraphale's mouth sears down his skin. "Nghh..." he manages. "...no, no it definitely isn't...Satan below, that feels amazing...!" His nails dig briefly into Aziraphale's arse, and he then scrapes them up the angel's back, not hard enough to leave marks but enough to be felt.

"I'd rather you left your former boss out of this," Aziraphale says matter-of-factly, although he's smiling when he peeks up at Crowley, obviously pleased with the demon's reaction. He sucks one more love bite before lifting up his head and examining his handiwork. His technique is definitely improving; those last two marks might last a few days if Crowley doesn't miracle them away.

The scraping of nails up his back sets all his nerves alight and he arches into it with a surprised moan. "Oh, darling." But he doesn't let it distract him from his earlier intention to put his mouth to good use. He kisses lower, capturing one of Crowley's nipples between his lips, a hand sneaking up to the other.

Crowley laughs at this request, breathless, and breathless again as Aziraphale sucks again on his neck, and then all over again at the way the angel looks down at him with a mixture of satisfaction, pride, and what Crowley recognizes all too well after centuries of dining with him as appetite.

Fine by him. Lay him out on a plate and give Aziraphale a spoon.

Nngh, no, nevermind, no spoons, all hands and mouths here, with the attendent nails and teeth, much better...Crowley trickles his fingers back down Aziraphale's spine more lightly and then repeats the scrape, hoping to earn another moan like that first one. Except now his nipple is being sucked on and how in the infernal pit can that feel the way it does, that little nub has no purpose at all on his body, how can it feel so fucking good...

"Gonna discorporate me, angel," he manages, after a number of undignified high-pitched sounds as Aziraphale experiments. Crowley's hands have gotten tangled up in the angel's hair somewhere along the line. He doesn't really remember when. "For the record, it'll be worth it."

Aziraphale certainly sounds as though he's enjoying one of his favorite meals, lips and tongue sliding over Crowley's nipple, a purely cosmetic adornment on even the body of a human male... such a funny thing, these corporations, but so utterly delightful. He breaks off a moment while his spine is scratched a second time, all shivers and pleased noises, before alternating his mouth and hand, the tips of his fingers now slick with saliva from his earlier work.

"If we're to make any headway on your list, my darling, you'd best not." His words are muffled as he is not at all inclined to pull away from Crowley's chest a second time. His mouth and hands wander, tasting more of the demon's skin. It's earthy and salty and so distinctly Crowley. What a joy, to now know what Crowley tastes like.

Well, his skin, anyway... blushing, he looks up rather shyly for someone who recently had his mouth all over a demon's bare chest. "Crowley, dear... would you... that is, I'd like to, ah... pleasure you orally now. If that's something you'd like?"

Having Aziraphale make all these particular too-familiar noises while his mouth is on Crowley is something of an erotic dream come true. Crowley is trembling underneath him, his breathing erratic and ragged and often interrupted by needy little noises that would utterly embarass him if he weren't so distracted. The way Aziraphale says pleasure you orally earns another one, it has no right to sound so hot when it's put so ridiculously formally.

"Christ on a--" Crowley groans and swallows. "Yes, fuck yes, and yes I know we should leave him out of it too, just don't stop?"

Crowley's self-admonishment comes dangerously close to giving Aziraphale the giggles. He smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, before resuming his path downward, planting luscious kisses on the elegant concave of Crowley's stomach. He takes his time, hands lightly gripping the demon's hips, wiggling himself into position between those long legs, lips trailing affection closer and closer to their intended goal.

It's possible that he's teasing. It's more likely that he's stalling a little. He's not a total neophyte when it comes to the act of fellatio -- he's read about it, certainly, and caught a glimpse of it on occasion. (Impossible not to, when living among humans who forget to close curtains/tie tent flaps/lock doors, etc. And don't get him started on the humans who wanted to be caught in the act.) But it's one thing to learn about a skill secondhand, and another to actually perform it, especially on a demon that you love very much and want nothing more than to make happy.

But... how else can he learn if he doesn't try? He props himself up on an elbow, wrapping his hand around the base of Crowley's cock, and tilts his head forward just enough to bring the tip into his mouth. He's surprised by the flavor -- still Crowley, but muskier. Just as irresistible as the rest of him.

He sucks gently before lowering his head a bit more, trying to put what knowledge he has to good use. Thankfully, the warning to not use teeth somehow made it to the angel, who is very careful to only use his lips and tongue. Mouth occupied, he squeezes Crowley's hip with his fingers, hoping to get his words across anyway. Tell me what feels good. Am I doing this right? Let me live up to your fantasy.

That mouth will be the death of him. Crowley's known it for years and now he's sure. One way or another it was always going to be his doom. It'll be this way, with plush lips sampling his skin, his abdomen, tasting him and lingering appreciatively, tongue dipping briefly into his navel, and then Aziraphale licks the slit of his cock, sucks him briefly, takes him in and all Crowley can do is keen and dig his hands into the sheets.

He tries not to claw holes in the fabric. He'll wreck the bed at this rate. He doesn't care. Fingers ask silent questions, request feedback, but all Crowley's words are gone, swallowed somewhere. There's just heat and wet suction and he's a God-blessed mess of desperate needy ecstacy and it's amazing and it's going to kill him and he does. not. care. Anything, so long as Aziraphale doesn't stop. Anything.

Somewhere along the line the high-pitched whimpers become words, a nonstop litany of praise, yesGodangelyespleasesogoodhardermoreplease. It'll have to be enough. He can't be more coherent than that. He's not even aware he's using words, all his being is reduced to more, please, yes, yes, yes...

It's not the explicit hand-holding feedback like earlier, but it's more than enough for Aziraphale to go on, and he listens eagerly. More? He can give more. No one warned him about a gag reflex, so it isn't much trouble to take all of Crowley down his throat -- slowly, of course, building up to it as a human might, more for Crowley's pleasure than his own comfort. Harder...? He's not sure what to do about that. He can suck harder, which he does whenever he pulls back.

Is this good? He thinks so, based on the sounds that Crowley's making. He hazards a glance up, and oh yes, Crowley is definitely enjoying himself. It fills him with a deep sense of contentment. A human might call that pride, but an angel is never prideful. And isn't it an angel's role to serve? Never mind that the feeling of Crowley's cock brushing his soft palate, the weight of it against his tongue, isn't satisfying in its own right.

Rhythm established, he grips both of Crowley's hips with his hands, holding him steady against the mattress, thumbs tenderly brushing the jut of his hipbones. I'm here, he tries to communicate via touch. I'll give you whatever you need.

The greatest act of self-control Crowley's ever done is taking Aziraphale's head in his hands and pulling him back up, and he groans as he does it, missing the heat of that mouth as soon as it's gone. "Not--not yet," he manages by way of explanation, seizing Aziraphale's lips and kissing him deeply, tasting himself in the angel's mouth. "S'good, fuck, it's perfect, but not yet, I want--"

He rolls them over again, then it's his turn to move down, kissing and biting and sucking on his way. "Want to taste you," he says between bruising open-mouthed kisses on Aziraphale's chest, before latching on to one of his nipples. "All of you, I want...fuck, angel, want you so much...!"

Aziraphale makes a small, questioning sound as he's pulled up and away from pleasuring Crowley, but any concerns are silenced with that kiss. He would have brought Crowley to climax, would have swallowed his spend -- in fact, he was looking forward to it -- but if this is what his demon wants, who is he to argue?

He's rolled over, helpless under the onslaught of Crowley's mouth. His arousal, formerly a steady, pleasant background noise, flares to the forefront of his mind now that he's the focus of such ardent kissing. Crowley latches onto a nipple and he cries out, hips twitching.

"You have me," he gasps, a hand reaching into Crowley's hair and gripping tight, the other pressing itself against the space between the demon's shoulder blades. "My darling, you have me. Whatever you want from me, it's yours."

Another time Crowley will let Aziraphale finish him, over and over if the angel wants. There will be other times, he'll make sure of it. But for this one, he wants something else more.

Besides, he's only had a taste of Aziraphale's skin, the barest beginning. There's so much to explore, and he's ravenous for all of it. "Want everything," he says, the words muffled. His mouth is busy, moving from one nipple to the other, still sucking and biting and kissing, seeing what affects Aziraphale the most. What actions result in what noises. One of his hands rests on Aziraphale's hip, pressing it to the mattress, his thumb idly caressing the skin there. "'m a demon. 'm greedy. It's the definition."

Aziraphale tugs on his hair and Crowley moans, his hand tightening on Aziraphale's hip. "Want to stay here for weeks, fucking you, being fucked by you. Wreck the bed. Wreck the whole room." He slides his hand down Aziraphale's thigh, moves lower, kissing Aziraphale's belly. "Make you come so many times you destroy all your furniture with your wings and half-pull my hair out with the force of your grip." Lower. He nudges against Aziraphale's cock with his nose, lips at it. "All that, angel. More."

And then he's returning the favor, opening his mouth and taking Aziraphale's cock in. Slow at first, so slowly, but deep. Gag reflexes are optional and he's got no use for his.

"Then you'll have it." His words come out breathless, caught between whimpers as Crowley explores his chest, hand tightening in that silky hair. Every touch is wanted and cherished; high-pitched moans escape him when Crowley focuses on his nipples, his fingertips digging into the muscles of Crowley's back with each sucking kiss, as if afraid he might stop at any moment. "All of it, everything, oh, Crowley...!"

At the first gentle mouthing of his cock, Aziraphale nearly sobs, overcome with pleasure. It doesn't matter that he's intimately familiar with his arousal, this is an entirely new experience. It takes all his self-control not to thrust into that mouth slowly descending upon him, to yank any harder on Crowley's hair, both hands in it now. "You --" he pants. "Oh, oh my love --"

No wonder Crowley had so much trouble with his words earlier.

Crowley makes an urgent, pleased noise at that oh, my love-- and takes him in a little deeper, pulls back a little faster, makes his mouth a little more wet so that the slide is easier. Every time he's nearly withdrawn he swipes around Aziraphale's tip with his tongue, or sucks, or both.

He takes one hand and wraps it around the base, squeezes a little to hold things back, releases Aziraphale from his mouth with a small wet pop. "Don't hold back," he says, voice more harsh than usual. He's been trying to stop Aziraphale from being so contained and self-restrained for almost as long as they've known each other, and the taste of Aziraphale's self-control waning is as intoxicating as the salt-taste on his cock. "Don't hold back, angel. Fuck my mouth if you want. Pull my hair. All of it, if you want it then do it, do it for me, let me have it."

And with that he's back, the hot press of mouth and tongue suddenly there again, taking Aziraphale in deep and moving faster. He pumps with his fist at the same time. Give it to me, give it to me, all of you, all of it.

Aziraphale's thighs tremble every time Crowley puts his clever tongue to use. He lifts his head up a little to watch and groans, almost regretting laying eyes on the sight as it is simply too much; he drops his head back onto the pillows and shuts his eyes, fingers twisting in Crowley's hair.

He's not shy about the praise he moans, although his eloquence is limited to "you're so good, my darling" and variances of such, too addled for much else. When Crowley pulls off, he whines loudly, and then blushes in embarrassment at his poor etiquette. That blush only grows with Crowley's request. He looks down at Crowley, wide-eyed, as if ready to deny, but --

Oh, the look in those yellow eyes. The want. The love and trust to make such an offer. The angel's cock twitches in clear interest. Yes, Aziraphale wants this, too.

When Crowley's mouth is on him again, Aziraphale grips tight with both hands and thrusts upward in time with the stroking, giving in to the sensation and fulfilling some deep need within both of them to love one another with abandon.

Crowley closes his eyes, writing everything about this into his memory: Aziraphale's trembling body, the painful grip on his hair, the breathless needy compliments. The complete lack of any inhibitions. No fetters, not on either of them, not of any sort, and Crowley groans his pleasure at the thought, and the wild shameless way Aziraphale takes him at his word and fucks his mouth.

His hands go to Aziraphale's hips, not to hold him down but just to hold on, to grip. His mouth is loose and wet, and he alternates between swiping with his tongue at the end of each withdrawl or sucking hard. He groans again, and every noise he makes says yes, I love this, I love you, don't stop.

Good Lord, Crowley's mouth. How does the demon know exactly what to do to make Aziraphale moan with every thrust and succumb to wave after wave of hot pleasure. Is it instinct? Or has he fantasized about this for so long that he's bound to get it right?

It doesn't matter. It feels so blessedly good, Crowley groaning with want, his hands holding onto Aziraphale's hips, so open and giving. The angel doesn't hold back, but he doesn't give more than Crowley can take, he makes sure of that.

The litany of praise starts up again, a sweet contrast to the demanding pace of his hips. But all too soon, he feels his climax building, and his words dissolve into a near frantic whine. And then, suddenly:

"Crowley! Crowley, wait --" He pulls tight on Crowley's hair, pulls him off his cock and up towards his lips for a desperate kiss. "Please, I want --" He fumbles with Crowley's hips, trying to align them like earlier, their arousals caught between them. "Can we -- that is, can we climax together?"

Crowley's groan turns to frustration as he's pulled up, but he goes without a struggle, kisses just as desperately. It takes a moment for the words to penetrate his lust-addled brain, but his arousal spikes again once they do.

"Yeah--" He swallows, breathing hard. He slides off of Aziraphale, lays next to him, pulls the angel to face him. Then he wraps his long fingers around both their cocks together. "Like this?" He hisses a little, because fuck, it does feel good, their cocks pressed together, hard and hot. "Your hand too, angel, both of us--"

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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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