[The thing about angels (and demons, who are essentially the same thing, just the off-brand version, if you will) is that sex is an effort. In that bodies are assigned, yes, but it's not very hard to change the little things, so long as you don't go around wildly contorting yourself. Hair? Oh, he's grown his long and cut it short over and over. Eyes you can't ever change, of course, but the body? He could have any figure he wanted, external or internal, it's all just bits and pieces.
Maybe someday he'll try the other side, just to see what Aziraphale thinks. He was so stunned the first time he saw Crowley with short hair; this might just stun him.
Anyway. Effort, right, and effort means changing yourself as you like, which means that it's really no effort at all to just get himself ready, which means he really could just be getting fucked right now. Like. Just as an FYI. That could happen at any time, and in point of fact Crowley would like it to happen, not that these sweet touches to his chest aren't lovely (they are, electric and shocking, and he squirms beneath them, but more, also).
Ah. More compliments. He's just about to open his mouth to whine a little, when--]
Ah--
[Nope just kidding that's perfect Aziraphale is perfect this is just ideal, with those adoring eyes staring up at him, and he does whine, a very pointed little sound, as his eyes half-close.]
I love you.
[It's blurted out, clumsily but very much meant. Certainly not just for the touch-- rather, for the way he just did that, paired the two together, saccharine sweetness and teasing touch both, almost deceptive and slightly cruel, or at least engineered to drive him up a wall, which it is.
Fucking hell. He can't think about that, though. He can't think about what he just said, because he'll fall apart if he does. Instead: one hand darts down between them, knocking Aziraphale's hand so he can take them both in his, a nice hard firm touch. One of these days he'll teach Aziraphale edging and that'll be it for Crowley, so long, thanks for the memories, he'll die on that bed, but until then, he just wants to throw them both headfirst into this.
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Maybe someday he'll try the other side, just to see what Aziraphale thinks. He was so stunned the first time he saw Crowley with short hair; this might just stun him.
Anyway. Effort, right, and effort means changing yourself as you like, which means that it's really no effort at all to just get himself ready, which means he really could just be getting fucked right now. Like. Just as an FYI. That could happen at any time, and in point of fact Crowley would like it to happen, not that these sweet touches to his chest aren't lovely (they are, electric and shocking, and he squirms beneath them, but more, also).
Ah. More compliments. He's just about to open his mouth to whine a little, when--]
Ah--
[Nope just kidding that's perfect Aziraphale is perfect this is just ideal, with those adoring eyes staring up at him, and he does whine, a very pointed little sound, as his eyes half-close.]
I love you.
[It's blurted out, clumsily but very much meant. Certainly not just for the touch-- rather, for the way he just did that, paired the two together, saccharine sweetness and teasing touch both, almost deceptive and slightly cruel, or at least engineered to drive him up a wall, which it is.
Fucking hell. He can't think about that, though. He can't think about what he just said, because he'll fall apart if he does. Instead: one hand darts down between them, knocking Aziraphale's hand so he can take them both in his, a nice hard firm touch. One of these days he'll teach Aziraphale edging and that'll be it for Crowley, so long, thanks for the memories, he'll die on that bed, but until then, he just wants to throw them both headfirst into this.
Call it a demon thing.]