Another Year, Another Open RP Post

[duckshaveears]

Currently offering: Crowley, angel!Crowley, Haleth. Will update this if that changes. If you want one of those three, have at it.

Comments

So glad you and Aziraphale approve ;) I love the Bookshop headcanon here and have a story to tellyou

[duckshaveears]

Physical strength isn't an option Crowley usually needs to take advantage of, but it has its uses. Or maybe he was just inspired by the moment. Hardly matters, so long as something got them here to this point, this utterly perfect moment. Exquisite as the meal was, Aziraphale tastes better. Michelin-starred chefs would weep.

Not that they'll have a chance. This, all of this, is just for Crowley.

He hooks his ankle around his chair, pulls it in place so he can sit back down. Means he's not bending over at such an awkward angle, which leaves him free to shove Aziraphale's thighs further apart, bury his face between them even more thoroughly. Aziraphale's laid out on the table as the final course of the best meal Crowley's ever had and he intends to appreciate every single nuance.

He teases, plays, explores, researches. Flicks his tongue over Aziraphale's clit, then kisses it. Circles the vulva with fingers and tongue and a ring of kisses. Presses his tongue deep into the cunt, replaces it with a finger when he withdraws to suck at the clit again. Anything that earns an approving or desperate sound gets repeated. Aziraphale rolls his hips against Crowley's mouth and Crowley loves it, would happily sit here feasting for the rest of the night. All the nights.

Crowley feasts.

Tell! Also heh welcome to this headcanon. And WANTON MODE UNLOCKED.

[confoundthemighty]

During lockdown Aziraphale had experimented with more human skills than cooking and programming and crafting. For about a fortnight during the summer he’d spent his nights reading several human books about self-pleasure and putting their techniques to use into the small hours. Ultimately it had gotten a bit lonely, so he’d gone back to once every few days, but he’d gotten to a point where he could tease himself for quite some time without losing control.

This is an order of magnitude hotter than anything he could do on his own, though.

Crowley slides a finger inside him (oh fuck yes his fingers are slim but they’re long and he can slide deep) and suckles his clit, and Aziraphale sobs out a rising crescendo of approval. His cunt squeezes tight and there’s pressure against a spot that makes his thighs shudder, and suddenly it feels like every swipe of Crowley’s tongue across his clit is a separate orgasm.

He can’t count them all. He can’t control himself. He loses track of the wanton things he’s whispering or shouting or begging. He just hangs onto Crowley’s hair and gives into the shattering ecstasy of being worshipped.

This isn't the D/s food feeding thing we planned but boy am I loving it, possibly even more.

[duckshaveears]

He feels the first climax hit, which is a thrill. It's a fluttering around his finger, a change in the taste, more liquid to ease his way. It's Aziraphale crying out his name in a broken sob.

Crowley hums his approval, right against Aziraphale's clit where he knows the vibration will be felt. And keeps going. Aziraphale's fingers are buried in his hair, gripping and pulling, and he hums again again for that, a quiet moan to show his own pleasure. Never occurred to him he might like having his hair pulled, but turns out he does, which is convenient.

Aziraphale is vocal, which is no surprise to someone who's shared meals with him for millennia. Yes and please and more, directions that Crowley follows, Crowley's own name. There's even a fuck or two, and sometimes it just dissolves into a quick whispered ohgodohgodohgodohgod. Such sweet blasphemy.

They stay like that for who knows how long, could be hours, until Crowley's tongue finally starts to tire despite himself. Even then Crowley doesn't stop, though he does remove his mouth and sit back. He wipes his mouth with his free hand while the other is still buried three fingers deep in Aziraphale, thumb gently pressing on what must be a hellishly (literally) overstimulated clit.

Crowley takes in the view with evident satisfaction. Aziraphale's body is limp, blasted with rapture, though he still trembles at Crowley's ceaseless touch. "All right there, angel?" he murmurs quietly.

Same. And C can ask for anything here, A’s absolutely drunk on him.

[confoundthemighty]

If he were human he’d likely have begged Crowley to stop a while ago. But after literal ages of wanting, it takes quite some time for both of them to get to the point of needing a break. Though he groans when Crowley’s mouth pulls off of him, the sound is edged with gratitude.

The sight that greets Aziraphale when his hazy eyes find a focus is the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. Crowley’s jaw is almost dripping and his hair is a wreck; his own inner thighs nearly shine with wetness. His clit is swollen, red, stiff against the pad of Crowley’s thumb.

“Fuck,” he manages. Tries again: “Bloody hell.” A dizzy laugh. “S’incredible.” Does he sound drunk? He feels drunk. Not on alcohol, but on the sheer release of finally getting to this. (And however many times Crowley’s made him come. Dozens, it feels like.)

He grins down at Crowley, more satisfied than he’s ever been after any meal they’ve shared, any act of self-pleasure. “What about you?”

exactly as Crowley wants.

[duckshaveears]

"Oh, I'm all right, angel. I'm more than all right." Which isn't what Aziraphale meant and Crowley knows it, but it's also true. He's more than willing to ignore his own hard-on for a while longer in order to appreciate the view. Crowley's eyes rake over Aziraphale with a mix of greed and smugness. "Just wish I had a photo of this. No, a painting. Think you'd be willing to pose for one of the Italian masters like this? Still life with debauched angel?"

He leans forward and kisses Aziraphale's thigh. "I'd hang it on the wall and look at it for days."

“huge slut for the love of your life” is a flavor I REALLY enjoy

[confoundthemighty]

He shivers at the kiss—with his nerves lit up firework-bright by an unprecedented amount of stimulation, even a touch that nearly approaches chaste is enough to send little shocks dancing up to the base of his spine.

“And you’d let me languish in the meantime, would you?” he teases. The demon could bring him back to the brink of orgasm in seconds and they both know it, and yet some dizzy part of Aziraphale’s mind is just as eager for laughter as he is for sex. “What am I meant to be doing while you’re—ahh—staring at this painting?”

(Actually, he can think of a few things he could be doing, all of which make him almost painfully aware of the quick thump of his pulse in his clit.)

Applies to both! ...and dammit C was supposed to be submissive idk what happened!

[duckshaveears]

Greedy, greedy, sensualist angel. A disheveled half-dressed heap on the table, ruined by countless orgasms, and already teasing about being deprived. God, but Crowley loves him.

He grins and kisses Aziraphale's thigh again, a little further up.

"Sitting in my lap, maybe?" he says, the words slow and thick like honey. "Keeping my cock warm."

ah, the joys of switches + threads with a mind of their own

[confoundthemighty]

There’s a filthy delight in knowing their comfort with one another—and their banter—translates to flirtation and sex. Aziraphale grins right back, his head lolling on one shoulder, mischief in his eyes.

“It must be freezing now.” He doesn’t care whether he looks silly; he feels bold and wanton, tipsy with how much he now knows he’s desired. “I feel I’d be a terribly rude host if I didn’t offer to help you out with that.”

he'd love to be dommed, I swear! and HAH your icon!

[duckshaveears]

The best thing about spending time with Aziraphale had always been that it is, quite simply, fun. It's no surprise to Crowley that that extends to this. Bit of a surprise that they've actually reached this point, but that's one thing he'll never complain about.

"Definitely not cold." He stands up, smirking as his hands go to his waist and start undoing his belt. "If anything it's much too hot just now. Could probably do with an airing. Bit of a breeze..."

The sentence drifts off as he pulls out his cock because oh fuck, just having it freed from the confines of his denims and in his hand feels better than it has any right to. He's suddenly viscerally aware that he's been aroused for hours without relief, and the need to do something about it is overwhelming.

Crowley leans forward, one hand on the table next to Aziraphale's leg, to support his weight. He begins fisting himself with the other, in a slow, hard grip. "Fuck, angel--" he gasps, staring at the lewd vision in front of him. "You look good enough to eat, you know. Just need--nghh--a few finishing touches--"

OH HE WILL BE. and HEE it is such a cute expression

[confoundthemighty]

The second Crowley leans forward, Aziraphale scoots himself closer, almost to the edge of the table. He spreads his thighs a little wider, licks his lips—more for Crowley’s benefit than his own; after an evening spent teasing he wants to reward his demon as thoroughly as he can. Whatever that includes, he wants to provide.

“Tell me,” he purrs, low and commanding. Tell me what I can do for you now. He reaches out, manages to grasp at Crowley’s sleeve—just to be able to hold on to some part of him.

[duckshaveears]

"Want to paint you," Crowley rasps. His voice is already ragged and no wonder, after so long being wound up and ignoring it it's no surprise how needy he is. This won't take long at all and he doesn't care. "Mark you up, splatter my come all over you like icing. You're the last course of this feast, Aziraphale. Want to decorate you and lick it all off, and--ahh shit, fuck, fuck--!"

He'd started slow but sped up his fisting as he talked, and orgasm catches him by surprise, bending him over as he jerks and spills over his hand, Aziraphale's cunt and belly in long white stripes.

[confoundthemighty]

Aziraphale watches the realization hit, watches the wide-blown pupils of Crowley’s eyes roll upward and a beautiful warm expression blossom across his sharp features. He watches, rapt, relishing the heat that bursts across his bared skin as he drinks in the most incredible sight he’s ever seen—the last course of his own private feast, and an appetizer for the bounty that he hopes the rest of his existence will be.

In a rush of tenderness, Aziraphale leans forward to pull him into a loose embrace, one hand cradling the back of Crowley’s head and the other stroking gently along his back. His lips write wordless praise on whatever part of the demon’s face or neck he can reach, kisses curved with an impossibly fond smile. Little tastes of the boundless affection he no longer has to hold back.

hah, you caught me right as I was doing threads :) and hooray, one where Crowley DOESN'T go maudlin

[duckshaveears]

Crowley stays curled and panting for a minute, staring at the absolutely astonishing sight of his spend on Aziraphale's skin. For all his debauched fantasties and despite the past several...however long it's been...it still seems impossible.

Then Aziraphale reaches for him and pulls him down, taking some of his weight as Crowley leans limply (in more than one sense) against the angel. There's tender touches and strokes of fingers, and finally Crowley regains his senses enough to wrap an arm around him and hold him back. It's a ridiculous uncomfortable position for both of them, they're both something of a wreck, and he can't help but laugh. "Fuck, Aziraphale." He turns his face, kisses Aziraphale's cheek. Breathes in the smell of him, cologne and sweat and sex-musk. "That was quite the meal."

hopefully this doesn’t alter that TOO much ;)

[confoundthemighty]

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it.” Aziraphale’s smile is very nearly a grin, wide and beaming and giddy with pleasure. As awkward as the embrace is, it’s real, some invisible and imperceptible gap between them finally and blissfully bridged.

That sense of connection, along with the drunken rush of having finally (finally!) made his intentions known and confirming that his feelings were reciprocated, makes him braver than he’s felt in millennia.

“We didn’t actually finish the crêpe, but… we could have it for breakfast, if you like.”

nope he's beyond content. no angst for him this time.

[duckshaveears]

Crowley belatedly remembers the crêpe, which he never properly tasted and then shoved onto the floor in his haste to get at Aziraphale. Whoops. Though he can't say he has any regrets whatsoever.

"Angel," he says, a slow brilliant smile blooming in his face. "Are inviting me to stay for the night?"

aww. that makes two of them. <3

[confoundthemighty]

No one else, Aziraphale is sure, has ever gotten to see Crowley smile like this: delighted, unguarded, unshadowed. This is just for the rare moments between them that matter.

“Seeing as the social distancing guidelines haven’t actually lifted, you’d better make it the full two weeks of quarantine.”

As confident as the words are, there is something hopeful in his tone, something that hints at, please? He’s already offered himself up—every month of the year, every inch of his body—but after millennia of longing capped off by nearly a year in lockdown, he’s greedy for all the new intimacy that comes with this change, including a certain degree of reassurance.

they deserve purely happy/horny threads sometimes!

[duckshaveears]

Aziraphale's not wrong. No one has ever delighted Crowley the way Aziraphale does, so no one else has ever inspired this sort of smile. Though the sight of it is almost immediately lost as Crowley lunges forward to take another kiss, deep and passionate.

After several minutes of that he leans back just far enough to breathe. "Crêpes for breakfast sound perfect. I'll feed them to you in bed, even, if you want."

Speaking of which.

THEY ABSOLUTELY DO

[confoundthemighty]

“I’d love that,” Aziraphale sighs. “But we’d better clear the dishes first. And make sure the crêpe actually survived. I did make backup crêpes, but it’d be such a shame to lose that one before we’ve properly finished it.”

Do we want to let this wind down or keep going?

[duckshaveears]

"Yeah..." Crowley's reluctant to let go, even for just a few minutes. But they both have their trousers around their ankles and are frankly a mess, even without the need to clean up after dinner. "Yeah, fair enough."

He stands up properly, stretches his back, pulls his denims back up and re-buckles his belt. Then he helps Aziraphale start putting himself to rights. "I'd apologize for ruining your dessert course, but given the circumstances I'm not in the least bit sorry."

wind down, I think? Then we can do a sequel to the dream thread!

[confoundthemighty]

A bright, merry laugh breaks free of Aziraphale, and he takes a moment to grip Crowley’s shoulder. Just to make sure he has the demon’s full attention.

“My dear fellow.” His eyes are fond, but his grin is smug. “You didn’t ruin dessert. You were dessert. And if I may be so bold, you were delicious.”

first we have to finish the dream thread! but yes I agree :)

[duckshaveears]

Crowley laughs, then bends in to take a kiss. Without the frantic need of earlier driving it's a simpler but confident thing, affectionate and sure.

"I think you were the dessert, personally," he murmurs. "After all, you haven't had a taste of me yet. But perhaps we can amend that, in a little while?"