open post;

[goodtobebad]

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Well it cant be food!

[goodtobebad]

Trust is what it is. There’s no one Crowley trusts like Aziraphale, and no one better at making him feel good - feel loved, which is something novel in Crowley’s existence. Crowley gives over a semblance of control to the angel, and allows himself to bask in the love that radiates from him, being taken care of like this.

Those clever fingers find that spot inside him and he whimpers, squirming his hips for more, his hands automatically seeking Aziraphale, running down his chest and belly without thinking.

You grow plants! Pick a plant name!

[theniceone]

"Ah!" Aziraphale says at once, stopping the movement of his fingers and catching Crowley's wrists with his free hand, in a grip that says without words that he was placed to guard the Eastern Gate for a reason. Soft he might be, but that doesn't mean he isn't strong. Even if these days it's from lifting books rather than a sword. "Naughty serpent," he murmurs, the words an affectionate rebuke. "We did agree no touching yourself, hmm? That means not at all."

As if to lend weight to the words he presses that soft bundle of nerves inside Crowley a little harder.

:P

[goodtobebad]

Crowley gasps at the stimulation, trembling a little but not struggling. Aziraphale is the stronger, for sure, but he’s not especially interested in testing that right now. He’d rather be good.

“Wasn’t,” he insists. “Didn’t say I couldn’t touch you.”

[theniceone]

"Mm." He grants that point, but with a raised eyebrow. "Well, don't. Raise your hands above your head and keep them there."

He keeps moving his finger with a slow deliberation that he knows will frustrate more than it pleases at this point, as he waits.

[goodtobebad]

Crowley whimpers and complies, raising his hands to grab at the headboard so he doesn’t give in to the temptation of touching the angel.

He watches Aziraphale, licking his lips and shifting his legs almost restlessly. “Angel,” he whines.

[theniceone]

"Yes, darling?" Almost absently asked, as Aziraphale adds another finger, crooks them just so. He smirks faintly, watching Crowley's skin flush in reaction. "You're doing just fine. You know I'll take care of you, don't you? Tell me."

[goodtobebad]

It’s more difficult to exercise self-restraint when he’s not actually tied up - but that’s part of the point, isn’t it? Yes, it is.

“Yes,” he says, his voice a little breathless despite not needing to breathe. “You take good care of me. Know what I need.”

Though right now he needs more. His body is alight with it, toes curling and thighs trembling.