faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

Crowley whimpers. There's no other word for the sound he makes, embarassing as it is. It's ridiculous to find this feeling so intense and intimate, especially after having had Aziraphale's mouth on his cock only a few minutes ago. But it is, unquestionably. No wonder Aziraphale reacted as he did downstairs when Crowley did this, if it felt the same...

"...yeah," he manages, after a minute of almost gasping from the spine-tingling pleasure of it. It's so light a thing, but almost agonizingly effective... "Yeah. That'd--that'd be good--fuck, angel, that feels--"

He bends his head down again, captures Aziraphale's mouth in a series of hungry, needy kisses, trying not to whimper again.

Angel (and by extension, demon) wings are funny things. A bit of a celestial's being essence made corporeal, not something made for touching unless a bond of trust has already been forged. Like sharing one's vulnerability, if said vulnerability could be held and caressed. Aziraphale is awed by the privilege, made humble by the sweet whimpers and stammered reply.

He kisses back, one hand slipping from feathers to shoulder so he can hold on as he pulls himself into Crowley's lap, getting even closer. His other hand keeps stroking those ephemerally soft feathers. "Beautiful," he whispers between kisses. "I want to touch every feather."

The thing about Hell is that only an idiot would let themselves be vulnerable in any way whatsoever. It's partly where the idea that demons can't love came from. They can, obviously, but most would never let it happen. Might as well paint a target on your back and be done with it.

Touch is hardly a thing either, not casual or affectionate touches. It took Crowley a long time to get used to those. And this, this is something else again.

All the more so when Aziraphale, still entirely without clothes, straddles Crowley's lap. Crowley groans and buries his face in his angel's neck, almost panting for breath. "Won't stop you," he manages. One hand strokes at Aziraphale's back, and he turns his head to kiss his neck. "Bring out yours again? Just--for a minute."

It should be no surprise that Heaven isn't much better. Perhaps there are angels here and there who had a close enough friend to groom their wings, but Aziraphale was never one of them. Even ostensibly friendly touches always had a whisper of control behind them. A handshake a little too tight; a shoulder clap a little too hard. Stay in line, little angel. Know your place.

This sort of touch, now that he allows himself to indulge, is effortless. He rubs the back of Crowley's neck, thick thighs bracketing the demon's narrow hips as if he's always belonged there. The request makes him shiver in anticipation. "Oh, my dearest," he sighs, voice laced with affection. "For you, anything."

He materializes his wings -- carefully this time, keeping them nestled within Crowley's feathery cocoon. The sensation of their wings brushing together leaves him momentarily breathless, much like the moment that they lay together without clothes. He shuts his eyes and nestles close, letting the feeling wash over him.

It's almost too much--too much sensation, too much intimacy. It's only a few hours since a kiss was about as much as Crowley would let himself actively hope for, and now this...

It's overwhelming. Everything is bare skin and feathers and touching, everywhere, and Aziraphale's breath and warmth, and there has never, ever in Crowley's long existence been a moment to match it in terms of pure bliss. Not during the earliest days when he was still content in Her grace making stars, even. Nothing compares or even comes close.

For a while he just holds Aziraphale, lets himself be held, is still and trembling and aware of every place where they're connected, every beat of his heart. The sheer intimacy of it would be painful if it weren't so wonderful.

After a long time Crowley lifts his head and kisses Aziraphale's cheek. "Ani L'Dodi," he whispers in Hebrew. "V'Dodi Li."

I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine.

Aziraphale wraps an arm around Crowley's back, the other sliding into his hair, twin anchors for them both as they ride this new wave of intimacy. White wings brush against black as he nuzzles into Crowley's bare shoulder and breathes deep. He is trembling only slightly less than Crowley, this melding of earthly and celestial bliss almost too much for an even an angel to contain.

It is the line of love poetry (from the Bible, no less) that has tears appear in Aziraphale's eyes, an outlet for his joy. He is glowing -- literally glowing with his personal grace. "My beloved," he murmurs, tilting his head so he can capture Crowley's lips in a soft kiss. "'Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.'”

It's from the Bible, yeah, but it's also from Solomon, and Crowley always got along fine with him. Clever guy, Solomon. And with a gift for words, him and his wife both. The phrase he quoted isn't just poetry. It's used in weddings, has appeared on nearly every ketubah since Solomon first wrote it down.

This isn't a wedding. The bond between them is more profound than any earthly equivalent could be given their nature and how long they've known each other, for all that they've been enjoying each other in a very human way. It's the closest approximation he can find, however.

He smiles a little when Aziraphale continues the quotation, and takes it as a command, leaning forward and kissing his angel with slow, thorough sweetness. "'Thou art all fair, my love,'" he says softly, breathing the words into Aziraphale's mouth. The devil can quote scripture to suit his purpose indeed. "'And there is no spot in thee.'"

Crowley's eyes are shut, but instead of darkness he sees a silvery glow. He smiles and opens his eyes, leaning his forehead against Aziraphale's. "Never knew afterglow was supposed to be a literal thing, angel. Won't complain, though."

There are some experiences too profound for mere words to fully encapsulate, but this phrase comes so very close. Aziraphale knows the significance, knows what sort of a connection and commitment they represent, and what Crowley means to whisper them to him. Maybe he should have them drawn up and hung above this very bed. What are they doing now, after all, if not celebrating their union?

Crowley may quote scripture all he like, as Aziraphale is quite fond of the purpose. He returns the kiss, far better than any wine, then blinks at the comment that follows. Afterglow...?

"Oh..." He blushes, adding a pink undertone to the glow that emanates from all of him. "I suppose I'm simply so happy that my corporation can't contain it all."

What response can Crowley possibly make to that, except to kiss him again? So he does. Thoroughly, sliding his tongue in to caress against Aziraphale's as Crowley pulls him in closer, settles Aziraphale flush on his lap. A vantage point that makes it clear Crowley's interest is already roused again. How it could it not be, with Aziraphale straddling his legs and quoting poetry and literally glowing with love?

Aziraphale most definitely notices Crowley's arousal, which perks up his own anatomy considerably. He squeezes a little with his thighs, ostensibly for balance, although considering that he already has two arms and a pair of wings to do that already, it's more for show than anything else. Or possibly a preview?

"Crowley..." He pulls out of the kiss to speak, although it's another few moments before he says anything else. His fingers gently brush at a few of Crowley's feathers. "Would you... that is, do you think we could make love like this?" He's blushing more than he's glowing now. "It feels so lovely like this, I don't want it to end, but... I want you, too."

Crowley groans into Aziraphale's mouth at that squeeze of thighs, dear Satan but he loves Aziraphale's thighs. Then there's fingers softly brushing against his feathers and that has almost the same level of effect despite being a completely different type of touch. Turns out intimacy is arousing as Hell.

"Like this," Crowley agrees at once. He reaches up and strokes Aziraphale's face, then his shoulder and down his arm. "Fuck, like this, please. Could use our hands again, or--" He has to stop and swallow before he can say it. Suggesting sodomy to an angel, Christ. His hand drifts back down to Aziraphale's hip, curves around to his back and dips a little lower. Not far, just enough to show a direction. "Could fuck you on my lap. If you want."

Aziraphale leans into the touch, at least when it lingers on his face. As Crowley's hand drifts lower, his wings rustle slightly, still nestled up against Crowley's. That pause has him looking up hopefully, like all the times he's wished for something and is waiting for Crowley to suggest it.

What's different this time is that he immediately says, "Yes!" No coaxing or wheedling necessary. "Oh, I... I think I'd like that very much. Can you reach to prepare me?" The little wiggle he gives is not the least bit innocent. "Or should I...?"

The wiggle and the immediate Yes! make Crowley groan again and bend his head forward to rest against Aziraphale's forehead. "--got it," he manages, sliding his hand further down, slicking his fingers with a thought. There is no way in Heaven, Hell, or Earth that he's going to break this moment to go looking for some other form of lubrication, and he knows they'll need it. "Got you covered, angel."

And then he does, quite literally. He has long arms, he can reach. Might be easier if he went from the front but he can do it this way for a bit. Carefully he feels his way around the entrance, the small ridges of Aziraphale's pucker under his fingertip, giving him time to get used to it. Slow, he has to go slow here. It's not as difficult as going slowly sometimes is, not with his arms around Aziraphale and their wings enclosed around them both. This isn't a bad place to wait, not at all.

Crowley pulls in a long, shuddering breath. "All right so far?"

If they have to change positions, Aziraphale won't complain, but he's delighted that Crowley is giving it a go like this, both of them wrapped up in each other. He leaves a trail of kisses along Crowley's neck as encouragement, shifting his rear slightly so that Crowley can do... well, whatever it is he needs to do. Aziraphale has a vague idea of the mechanics, but more importantly, he trusts Crowley to handle him properly and with care.

He makes a soft, almost questioning sound when Crowley finally makes contact. Having never touched himself there, he's surprised by how it feels. "Oh... that's different... not in a bad way, though." He breathes the last as quick reassurance, not wanting Crowley to stop. "Yes, it's all right."

"...good." The word sounds a little choked. Crowley swallows and tries again. "Right, that's...that's good." He kisses Aziraphale's neck, closes his eyes, focusing his attention on Aziraphale. Only Aziraphale.

He's so very careful about it. Aziraphale has no experience with this and Crowley no experience with doing it to someone other than himself, and he was much more willing to be rough with himself than he is here and now. Slowly he rubs his finger there on the spot, in small circles, then just as slowly he pushes in, breeching it with just the tip of his finger. He stops there, waits, then moves his finger again--not further in, but still in small circles, stretching. So slowly.

That's how he continues, moving in a little at a time, stretching a little at a time, making sure the way is slick and relaxed before he goes further. "If it hurts," he says softly in Aziraphale's ear, "if anything hurts, if it's uncomfortable, tell me." The last thing he wants is to hurt Aziraphale, the absolute last thing. He has to make this good, or he's stopping before they start.

Aziraphale runs his fingers through Crowley's hair in reassurance, as if Crowley was the one being penetrated. "I trust you," he says. He trusts him as much as he loves him, or perhaps when it comes to Crowley, trust and love are two sides of the same coin.

As Crowley slowly breeches him and stretches him open, his breath changes, sounds of pleasure escaping on the exhale. "I will," he promises, turning his head to kiss Crowley's cheek. "It's -- oh -- it's very nice so far." He had no idea the human body was so sensitive there. Already relaxed and content in Crowley's embrace, he stretches open easily, taking more of Crowley's finger without any discomfort or resistance.

Crowley's breath catches noticeably as Aziraphale strokes his hair, and his finger's movement falters for a second. Fuck, that felt much, much too good...

It catches again when Aziraphale says he trusts him, and the arm still wrapped around the angel's chest tightens for a moment. He'll need to...unpack that one later, maybe, a lot of things happening he'll need to unpack, and now..."Fuck," he breathes, biting lightly at Aziraphale's neck as his finger strokes in up to the second knuckle. "You're opening up so well for me, angel...think you can take another yet?"

Aziraphale keeps that hand in Crowley's hair, toying with the red strands, hopefully not too much to distract Crowley from his task. He simply can't sit there and not repay his lover's affections.

"Oh, yes," he answers, whining softly at the feeling of Crowley's mouth on his neck. He shivers at the praise, then relaxes even further, shifting his hips in an effort to take more of Crowley in. "Please, I'm ready for more."

Crowley leans in to the hand on his hair like a cat being stroked. He might even purr if he weren't distracted.

But he has a task, and is attending to it diligently. He kisses Aziraphale's neck again, then sucks on the same spot as he carefully adds another digit. Not as deep, the same slow thrusting as before, and then as the angel opens up he scissors his fingers to stretch them further. By this point he's left what will be a very pretty bruise on his lover's neck, and kisses the spot again lightly.

There's no pain, not even discomfort, as Crowley opens him up, but it still takes some getting used to, a few seconds to accommodate that second finger. He suspects that if tried to do this himself, on his own, it wouldn't be as enjoyable. Maybe if he was preparing himself for Crowley...? Although if given a choice, he knows he'd prefer Crowley's clever fingers inside of him.

He gasps softly at the love bite, reflexively gripping Crowley's hair. His eyes shut and he rests more of his weight against the solid planes of Crowley's chest, succumbing to the sensations. "Such clever fingers," he murmurs, unable to keep from voicing his thoughts aloud. "You feel so good inside of me, Crowley..."

Crowley groans, and it sounds more broken than it did. He's hard already, pressed up against Aziraphale and wet at the tip, and Aziraphale keeps saying these things...deliberately Crowley curls his fingers, looking for a place with slightly different texture, and strokes gently when he finds it. Watches with eyes wide and lips parted to see how the angel will react to that.

No one's ever explained to Aziraphale the finer points of male anatomy, so he's completely unprepared for the pure unadulterated shock of pleasure that comes from Crowley's fingers stroking gently on his prostate. He cries out, his wings rustling and ruffling like a startled bird. It's a good thing Crowley has his wings wrapped solidly around them both or that bedside lamp would be toast.

"What -- oh, dear Lord --" he gasps, voice high and thready. It's a bit like Crowley sucking on the tip of his cock, except all of that intense pleasure is inside him. "Please, whatever you're doing, k-keep doing it..."

Crowley grins against Aziraphale's skin, loving the sounds Aziraphale makes. "Thought you'd like that," he murmurs, kissing Aziraphale's shoulder again. He keeps his wings firmly cocooned, a steady cage around Aziraphale's, not trapping but offering support. His fingers stroke the prostate again, a third time, then press down a little harder. "Still good, angel?"

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--"

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