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.

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I have Opinions about Crowley and temptations.;) And yesss Mia Sara, Joanne Whalley, Carrie Fisher<3

[duckshaveears]

"Is that what you think this is about? Conquest? How little you understand, for all your intelligence."

Crowley leans in, intent and unblinking. This isn't the hold him down and struggle oh-no-you-big-bad-villain scene he was intending and debateably was asked for, but even so... "I have done all this only for love of you," he says, voice as dark and rich as Turkish coffee. I have made myself powerful in order to obtain you, sought riches that I might adorn you with them, turned to darkness solely that I might approach your light."

Does that last line make any sense? Never mind, it sounded good. He reaches for one of Aziraphale's hands and places it against his bare chest. Which is, of course, glistening in the firelight. "This heart beats only and ever for you, my angel. Do you think it is your kingdom I want? No. Only you." He leans in closer, still holding Aziraphale's gaze, until they can feel each other's breath on their lips. "There is nothing I would not do, if I could only call you mine."

okay so I would understand if you want to scrap this thread but here’s the take

[confoundthemighty]

A wave of emotion, heavy and thick as a summer heat wave, rolls off of Aziraphale. In a flash the white-hot core of the fantasy is exposed: he wants all his barriers, not just his excuses and ditherings but the real fears that have haunted him, to be swept aside by the force of Crowley’s love for him. He’s a being who has, by accident and on purpose, developed a capacity to love on par with what humans believe of angels—and in his most secret dreams, he aches to be overwhelmed by a strength of feeling that can match his own. And specifically by the one being he’s learned to love most over the millennia.

His eyelashes flutter. His posture softens. When he speaks it’s a sigh into Crowley’s mouth, the ghost of a kiss.

“Is this sorcery, or is this true passion at last?” Aziraphale breathes the words almost to himself, as if he’s voicing the inner monologue of a protagonist (which, considering they’re in his dreams, is entirely thematically appropriate). The tips of his fingers stir over Crowley’s heart, carrying echoes of that heat-wave arousal.

excuse you they will pry this thread out of my cold dead hands

[duckshaveears]

Crowley moves infinitesimally closer. Their breath mingles, but they still aren't touching. Not yet. It has to be Aziraphale who gives in, who makes the first move, or else it doesn't count. The trick is in convincing Aziraphale to make the choice, not in Crowley taking the choice from him. That's always been true.

"Kiss me, and you will know," he whispers, the Serpent of Eden offering an apple.

I WAS WORRIED, THANK YOU

[confoundthemighty]

A pause—not a hesitation, more like the breath before a dive into some deep pool—and then Aziraphale sways through the slight distance between them, lips brushing Crowley’s.

Where Eve tasted the apple in innocent curiosity, Aziraphale accepts this temptation out of yearning. He’s always wanted it, even before he knew he did, always been so starved that he can’t stop to think about the depths of his hunger. But it’s always been there, vast as the ocean of Crowley’s own need: a parched sea-bed gasping for a filling tide.

There’s a sort of immaterial tremor in his kiss that suggests the sharp crack of thunder in a heavy sky. Angels aren’t supposed to want anything for themselves, but here in his own mind the sheer depth of his desire pulses and crackles, a storm cloud shivering on the brink of downpour.

pffft have you met me this is my jam as much as yours

[duckshaveears]

The kiss is light, at first, the nearest brush of lip on lip. But it's enough for permission. Enough that Crowley can take control of it, cup Aziraphale's face in his free hand and slide a tongue into Aziraphale's willing mouth.

And oh, for all the fun of this scene they're playing, their mouths know each other. Crowley tries to draw it out, keep it slow and lingering, but there's hunger in his throat and belly that can't be denied, and Aziraphale can match it.

And while this was Aziraphale's fantasy, there's part of Crowley that craves it as well, he's finding. Being the seductive demon who can't be resisted, after so many centuries of being refused...feeling Aziraphale yield to him so sweetly, his desire almost a tangible presence in the room with them...something in Crowley howls, wanting more.

He leans in, deepening the kiss further, pressing Aziraphale's hand against a heart that beats wildly.

HEY SO GUESS WHAT I FOUND IN MY NOTES

[confoundthemighty]

A long shiver runs through Aziraphale as he melts into the kiss. Through the blurry heat of the dream his own pulse beats a fevered counterpoint against Crowley’s; he honest-to-somebody properly swoons.

No angel should feel desire, but I do. I desire you, and further than that I want you to desire me in return. I want you to be so overwhelmed with how much you want me that we have no choice but to give in.

He’s greedier with his kisses than he’s dared to be yet in life. His free hand clutches at Crowley’s back, an insistent phantom pressure, and his fingers held against Crowley’s heart tighten and tremble. With a great deal more sense memory to draw on, these dream-kisses are vivid and perfect—they’re every remembered moment of the best ones between them in life so far, but with the added enhancement of the secret more-than-physical want he’s allowing himself to feel.

In life I have had to make an art of denying myself the experiences I crave the most. I have grown expert at gracefully justifying why I can’t simply act as I please and telling myself it builds character, and I’m sick of it. Here where no one can see us, I want to drink so deeply of my desires that I nearly choke.

HEY GUESS WHAT I RESPONDED TO AT 1AM

[duckshaveears]

It's the greed that makes Crowley's head spin. Aziraphale is an eager hedonist at heart, but millennia of denial aren't easily cast aside. Except now, here, they are, and his angel apparently feels more free than ever to be unrestrained. The open, unrepentant hunger is greater than anything Crowley’s ever experienced from him in the waking world, and he craves it.

"Yes." The word is hissed into their mouths, approval and permission and a demand all in one. Crowley only barely manages to remember the scene they're playing, and takes a quick breath to gather his thoughts. Very quick, snatched between kisses. "You've been ssssso hungry, haven't you, angel? So alone." He tears himself away from Aziraphale's mouth and nips at his jawline instead, then his neck. The pale skin there is already flushed. "You'll never be alone again, never empty, never unsatisfied." He sucks a bruise into the skin, Crowley was here, and revels in Aziraphale's gasps and clutching fingers. "Never left wanting. I'll fill all your days and nights, Aziraphale, I swear it."

It's straight out of a romance novel and Crowley should be writhing with embarrassment over it, but for once he doesn't care in the least. Not with Aziraphale gasping in his arms, lustful and responsive, so responsive to every bite and kiss and caress. If a bit of playacting and cheesy dialogue gets him this response, Crowley will chew scenery better than Burbage ever dreamed of doing. "Haven't you wanted this?" he whispered in Aziraphale's ear before flicking his tongue agajnst the sensitive skin there. "To not deny yourself anymore, to give in?" Another flick, and he knows how heated breath just here can shoot down the spine and make toes curl. "To drown in pleasure such as you've never known before..."