goodtobebad | open post;

Those wings are definitely a bit more than rumpled. Still in better airs than they've been, of course, with the slightly more consistent grooming schedule they get now, but they seem to have taken a bit of a hit during the intense late night drunk canoodling session.

It takes a bit of doing, rolling over and moving his wings out of his way, but he settles down on his stomach and on a small surviving pile of pillows, wings stretched out toward the sides of the bed.

"How?" Sounding quite comfortable and looking quite spoiled. "Will you quiz me on the evening's proceedings?"

"Suppose I could," Crowley says easily, straightening feathers here and there, rubbing out kinks in the muscles.

"You could do to me what I did to you, that'd be a good quiz," he adds.

The white feathers fluff up a bit as the angel yawns against the back of one of his hands, though he's soon resting down on the pillows again.

"Oh?" With that hint of a smile again, unseen. "And what was that?"

"Nice try, angel," Crowley says with a smirk, leaning down to nip gently at the back of his neck. "That'd defeat the point of the test."

Aziraphale hums and tilts his head forward, faint movements rather lazy. "Revisions are always helpful."

Besides the mess that comes with wings bumping and rubbing into things, one or two of his primaries look a bit bent. Accidents happen, it seems...

"Tch," Crowley murmurs, pretending to be disapproving as he straightens out those bent primaries. "You should be more careful." As if he's not equally as responsible.

"Not that I'd change a thing about last night..."

Occasionally, they remind each other that they're not human, and thus are capable of things that humans aren't. Always fun, that.

"I suppose if you really can't remember, we can do something else," he adds.

As much as they love doing many things the human way, as it were, there's a lot of fun to be had when they remember that they are not. They might well be the first ones, if not only, of their kid to go about exploring those possibilities in this way.

And if that comes with a flurry of feathers and a few accidental miracles occurring in the surrounding area, well...

The angel settles comfortably on then pillow pile, wing twitching and fluffing up a bit, ticklish as Crowley goes about straightening things.

"Something else?" He glances over his shoulder. "Like what?"

"Like this," Crowley says, smiling faintly as he moves from Aziraphale's wings to his back, massaging along the place where one meets the other.

"Or anything else you feel like."

"Oh." Aziraphale shivers for just a moment, once again made all the more obvious when his feathers fluster up just a tad. Or maybe his wings are just fluffy.

He hums, resting his head back down. "Yes, that's quite lovely too..."

"Mm-hm," Crowley hums his agreement. The angel underneath him is quite lovely. The lovely soft feathers, and the gorgeous skin, and the muscles underneath, he never wants to stop running his hands over every inch of him.

And his lips, as he brushes a kiss to the back of Aziraphale's neck. They don't have anywhere they need to be, so he's going to keep doing this as long as the angel keeps making those little sounds of pleasure.

The angel smiles, turning his head just barely. It's not just the physical sensation of someone putting so much care in making him comfortable and spoiling him as such - the demon's love and devotion is most of it, really. But he surely takes no insignificant amount of pleasure out of the first part.

He glances toward his side and finds one fallen black feather, which he picks up between his fingers. "You're quite right, though, dear. Perhaps we should be more careful..."

That's without counting the fact that the flowers in some neighbor's garden have entirely changed color, among other things.

It's true, Aziraphale wouldn't even need his angelic senses to feel the amount of love radiating from Crowley constantly these days - it's an almost-physical presence, especially here, in their bedroom, in total privacy when he can focus all his attention on Aziraphale, on loving him in every possible way.

"More careful of what, exactly?" he asks, almost curious. "Ripping a hole in the space-time continuum? If that was going to happen, I imagine it already would've, the first time we made love."

It energizes him, that love, powers him through just about anything. There were some days, after Armaggedon, when things were quiet and he was alone, where he wondered if he could handle going forward without such a big part of his life since existence - losing his connection with Heaven, even when he finally had to come to terms with how things really were, was a the kind of change he could never have expected to go through. But, now, he's just so much happier. So much more fulfilled.

Aziraphale huffs a laugh, twirling the black feather between his fingers. "Nothing quite that drastic." Or, maybe. Who knows? They weren't even sure they wouldn't end up exploding, somehow, back then. "But there was that one time, with Mrs. Harris' lawn gnomes."

"That was all you, love," Crowley says with a crooked smile. "How was I to know doing that thing with my tongue would make you scream that way?"

Well, that certainly makes him blush. Which would be perfectly hidden by the way he's laying, if the tiny feathers by his shoulder blades didn't bristle up a bit.

"Yes, well." Oh that demon knew exactly what he was doing then, he's sure. (And perhaps he would like him to do it again.). "To this day she still believes her lawn ornaments gained life and massacred her zinnias."

"I'm sure she thinks it was local kids playing a prank," Crowley says, and presses a kiss to a particularly sensitive spot right where wing meets back.

"So should I not do the thing with my tongue anymore?" he suggests, knowing what the answer will be.

He muffles a faint hum against the pillows, still holding a feather between his fingers.

But he quiets, for just a couple of lingering seconds, well aware that he's being teased. "Well...I didn't say that."

"Didn't think so," Crowley says, doing a slightly different thing with his tongue over Aziraphale's skin, ever so lightly, just for the pleasure of it. He's never been as much of a hedonist as the angel, but he could touch and kiss and rub Aziraphale's body forever and never get tired of it.

"Oh..." He breathes out the syllable, holding onto the pillows a bit, arms wrapping around them loosely. "You really are a tease, you sly thing."

"'m not teasing," Crowley insists, repeating the tongue thing. "Maybe I'm just trying to make you feel good."

Aziraphale bites his lower lip, hunching his shoulders back a bit, toward Crowley's touch. His wings hover over the bed, just a couple of inches. "Mh, yes..."

"I'll take that to mean I'm doing well so far," he murmurs, nipping gently at the skin, running a hand along a wing lightly.

Clearly, by the way the wing gently lifts to follow his hand along. "Oh, you--yes..."

Crowley sighs, giving the wing a few long, slow strokes. "Angel, the things you do to me," he murmurs. Honestly, the way Aziraphale sighs, the little moans he makes, never fails to arouse him. His cock is already giving an interested twitch, and he's barely done anything.

Aziraphale lightly grips the pillows beneath him, black feather still in his hand even now, feeling himself shiver as Crowley's hand strokes against his feathers, and over how Crowley's voice sounds from behind him. The stroked wing stretches out while the other is pulled against his side.

The angel bites at his lip, raising his head just enough that his voice isn't muffled by the pillows. "Tell me." He murmurs.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject