goodtobebad | open post;

Well, the angel does often say that manners are important. They slip out of him even when he's not quite thinking, and they do pay off at times.

His wings stretch up by the demon's sides as Crowley pushes into him, and he gasps, head lifted off the pillows again (good thing they survive a lot of handling, because the angel sure does have a death grip on them and the feather). He arches under the demon, biting at his lip enough to make it pale. He can muster as much as a muffled yearning groan, panting quietly as he settles for a moment.

Crowley's own wings are stretched out either side of him - brushing Aziraphale's occasionally to send a tingle of extra sensation through them both. He takes a few moments, just to feel everything, to smell the angel, and kiss the back of his neck, before finally he begins to move. He keeps his pace slow, languorous, rocking against Aziraphale as if they have all the time in the world - which they do.

"Do I feel good?" he asks, his voice a breathless murmur against the angel's skin.

All the time in the world and then some. Even if they had to go somewhere, there would be ways to deal with that, if they really wanted to...

"Mh- Oh, you feel so wonderful..." There's a shiver up his spine as their wings brush together, and Crowley's breath is warm against the back of his neck. There's no rush, they've done rushing, but craves Crowley's touch, his kisses, everything, all over him.

Crowley murmurs his assent, his hips continuing their slow, rocking pace into the angel. He lets his hand wander, brushing over Aziraphale's chest and belly, pressing and teasing all the places he knows are sensitive to his touch. His intent is simple: give the angel as much pleasure as he can, he won't stop until they're both desperate to come.

With every little sensitive spot Crowley touches, the angel moves one way or another, gentle shivers, moving towards his hand, soft hums and groans. The muscles on his back tense and move as his wings lower and arch and twitch, the speckle of white feathers over and between his shoulders seemingly subtly multiplying.

He pushes back against the demon, just as slow, just as careful, moving along with him ever so leisurely. A few of his sounds are politely muffled, as if he had any reason to be polite now.

"Cr-" But he gasps for breath before the end of the name. "--Crowley?"

Crowley hums in response, lost in the angel's body, getting as much pleasure from his touches as he's giving.

"Aziraphale," he responds, his hand wandering lower, though still not low enough, most likely.

Certainly not low enough. Definitely not low enough. The hand's meandering makes it quite difficult to resist just pulling it where it should be.

His head rests sideways on the pillows and his wings hover over the bed, every so often moving a bit to keep balance.

"Speak to me." He manages to say, a bit breathlessly. "I want-" He's interrupted by the faintest sound. "-I want to hear you."

Crowley grunts faintly, letting his fingers brush just so over Aziraphale's clit, before they skitter away again, back up his chest.

"Gonna do this forever," he murmurs, breaths in the angel's ear. "Anything you want, I'll give it to you. Anything. I'm yours. I've always been yours."

The angel almost whimpers when Crowley's fingers so rudely move back up again, marked by the way his hips twitch as if to go after them, but push back against the demon instead.

"You're-" But a particular intense shiver makes him gasp against the pillows, wings arching up as if he was getting ready to take flight.

"Ngk," Crowley groans, that shiver sending his hips stuttering a bit, a harder thrust into his angel than he'd been intending. "What am I, angel?" he asks, stilling for a moment to regain his control.

A slightly louder moan escapes him before he can hell it, and he grips the pillows closer to himself, breathing raggedly against them. He pulls his wings closer to his sides, steadying himself. Or trying to.

"You're, hum." He can do it, hold on. "You're mine."

"Yesssss," Crowley hisses, nipping at the back of Aziraphale's neck. "All yoursss. You feel ssso good, angel..."

His fingers finally, finally press at his clit, light but firm. "Want to make you feel good..."

The angel tenses for a moment, panting as he grasps Crowley's arm, but with rather no intention to stop him. It's made all the clearer by the way his hips move, unable to decide between the demon's fingers and his cock.

"Y-oh, you do." He still manages to be fairly talkative, look at that. "Oh, Crowley..."

"I love you," he murmurs, trembling faintly from keeping control over himself. His fingers find the place where their bodies are joined, pressing in closer, shuddering with it. "Fuck, angel, I love you..."

"I l-ah-love you." He stutters out, clearly beginning to lose himself to pleasure. He feels it starting to grip at him, in his stomach, but he holds it back, for now, for now.

"Oh, faster, Crowley, please..."

"Anything," he repeats, and picks up his pace accordingly, increasing the force of his thrusts as well. "Ssso wet, are you close? Will you come for me?"

He throws his head back in a moan, wings whipping up before hovering back down after a moment. He tightens his grip on Crowley's arm, feeling himself grind up against his fingers with every thrust.

"Not--not yet." He stutters out, face half buried against the mess of pillows now, but certainly it won't take very long at all, by the looks of it. "Th-I'm-"

Crowley turns to press nibbling kisses into Aziraphale's neck as he arches, hips pumping now at a steady rate, fingers working him in time. "Love to feel you come," he growls. "I won't last long when you do, angel..."

The moans come more steadily too, now, with every breath, only slightly muffled by the way his cheek presses against the pillows, and he's very quickly losing the ability to put words together. He can feel Crowley's breath and teeth against his neck and it just makes it all the harder to focus on anything beyond his body clamoring to peak.

He can feel his legs shake, knees threatening to give out before he's done, and he tries to hold back, a little longer, a little further, grip tightening on the demon's arm.

"Please-" He pleads, strained and close, so close, on the brink. "Crowley--"

He can feel it, the way Aziraphale is tensing beneath him, the way he's trembling and shaking and moaning, breathlessly. He gives a sharper thrust, burying himself as deep as he can, fingers pressing and rubbing his clit as he breathes in the angel's ear. "Yes, let go, I've got you, let me feel you come, come on angel, there you are love..."

He gasps one final time, body tensing, lips parted, and perfectly manicured nails digging right into Crowley's arm, and, on his other hand, making final work of that poor feather he's been holding onto all this time.

His hips still twitch and move, wringing out some last desperate moments of pleasure by clumsily riding the demon's hand and his cock, a deep shudder seizing up his body. He presses his face on the pillow, muffling some final small sounds as the heat takes over his corporation.

And then, when he's done, he settles, his legs finally giving out against the bed.

Crowley wasn't kidding - as he feels Aziraphale convulse around him, he moans helplessly, hands finding the angel's hips so he can give a few more rough thrusts, coming even as Aziraphale is still trembling beneath him.

He goes boneless atop him, unwilling to move just yet, his wings providing them with a dark shelter as they relax around them both. Crowley nuzzles lazily at Aziraphale's shoulder blade, making a vague, muffled noise of pure happiness.

Content and cozy, the angel tucks his wings up to his sides, both sheltering himself nicely under the dark wings and gently cradling Crowley between his.

He just lays there, lazily, catching his breath and feeling Crowley's, humming in a rather pleased manner in response.

Aziraphale, it must be said, makes an excellent pillow. Crowley could fall asleep like this - and has, on previous occasions. He's certainly dozing now. Nothing like a good lovemaking session to get him sleepy again.

"Mmf, nap," he murmurs happily into the angel's neck.

That he makes a good pillow certainly is knowledge that only the demon holds. And the privilege to act on it is his and his alone. As well as the perfect angle to see how the little smattering of feathers has spread between the angel's wings and up to his shoulders.

Aziraphale smiles, tilting his head to gently nudge it against Crowley's. "Going back to sleep already, dear?"

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