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[goodtobebad]

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[goodtobebad]

[ This is much, much better than silly magic tricks. At least, Crowley thinks so. Even if all they do is some heavy petting, he's more than happy to oblige the angel.

Still, he lets his hands wander a bit, one of them sliding to Aziraphale's hip, then around to grope his ass, Crowley humming against his skin. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

[Aziraphale loses track of where Crowley's hands are going until he feels a squeeze. He can't quite help his soft laugh.]

You wily thing, you. [Fondly, as always. Aziraphale, for his part, drops a hand to Crowley's back, luxuriating in the knobs of his spine and the warmth of his skin, as if it were possible to urge him closer that way.]

[goodtobebad]

I don't know what you're talking about. You're the one who's a walking temptation.

[ Honestly! Being so soft, and cushy, and - just generally very attractive! ]

[goodoldfashioned]

You're hardly one to talk, being the same.

[Honestly! Being so bendy, and angular, and - just generally very attractive!]

[goodtobebad]

Yeah, but that’s just my job. I mean - I’ve never... you know. Tried to... seduce you, or... I’m not that kind of demon!

[ He does not know how to deal with compliments. Please give him more. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

You're the very best kind of demon, I'll have you know. [Kiss.] In a class of your own. [Kiss.] Full marks. [Kiss.]

[Why certainly, he'd be glad to.]

[goodtobebad]

Hngh. You just say that because... [ He tangles his fingers in Aziraphale’s hair. ] Because I feed you a lot. Oh, don’t stop...

[goodoldfashioned]

Wouldn't dream of it. [He continues, peppering in kisses as he speaks.] And I just say that because it happens to be true. You mean so much more to me than just... a delivery device for lunch. I-- I could go without, for a time, but not you, not-- not ever again, I'm afraid.

[He sighs, happy.] Oh, Crowley.

[goodtobebad]

Well...

[ Aziraphale is definitely saying things that Crowley both loves to hear and also doesn’t know how to respond to. ]

I couldn’t do without you, either. Haven’t, for a long time.

[ As if that wasn’t obvious, by now. His almost puppy-like devotion to the angel over the centuries being the biggest giveaway. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

What a pair we are.

[He's running out of words, too, as it turns out, but luckily he seems to be remarkably fluent in applying mouth to neck, which he'll continue demonstrating.]

[goodtobebad]

What sort of pair is - is that?

[ Crowley smiles faintly, clutching at the angel, gripping his hips, tilting his head to give him more access. ]

Oh, that's good. The humans who invented this knew what they were about.

[goodoldfashioned]

Definitely one of their better ideas, I-- I have to agree.

[Aziraphale keeps a hand in the dip of Crowley's back. Not squeezing or gripping so much as fluttering. It's also a bit tricky to keep talking when he's gone a bit breathless with it all.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Angel, you don't need to breathe.

But Crowley can agree with the general sentiment. Even as he slides his leg between Aziraphale's so he can press even closer. ]

's a good one...

[goodoldfashioned]

[Excuse you, he forgot he doesn't need to breathe, he's a little overwhelmed at the moment!]

No, uh, no complaints from me.

[Now the hand at his back's gone grippy. With the other hand, he tries to push a lock of hair out of Crowley's eyes, so he can see them better, he wants to see this, he wants-- he wants so many things, a little tremble running through him as if he could vibrate out of his skin if it'd get him closer to Crowley.]

[goodtobebad]

Yeah? 's good?

[ Look, it's not his fault he wants to be told he's a good boy. Even as he trails his lips down Aziraphale's throat. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

Yes, very, oh, a little to the left---

[If he'd be so kind? In return, he smooths the hand on his back up and down, urging him on.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Crowley is very happy to oblige, moving exactly as the angel suggests and holding him even closer, that hand right around the base of his wing making his head spin a little. ]

Hngh, angel...

[goodoldfashioned]

[Aziraphale starts giggling as Crowley presses onward.]

S-sorry, ticklish!

[And, oh, now that he's started laughing a little, he's having a bit of trouble stopping, his kisses turning more into gasps of air.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Crowley grins a bit in return. Whatever, his giggles are way too adorable to be upset about. ]

Good to know.

[ Not that he's going to use the knowledge right now... but eventually...

For the moment, he just keeps doing what he's doing, grinning at the angel. ]

shit lost the notif

[goodoldfashioned]

Don't you start!

[He doesn't know what Crowley might, in fact, dare to do, but he also knows the surest way to make that happen is to fuss a bit first.

Speaking of which, he's gone rather boneless and he can't seem to stop trembling.]

no worries~!

[goodtobebad]

I'm not starting anything!

[ He's in fact simply continuing the current trend of stroking the wings and enjoying the sounds Aziraphale makes and all. ]

Anyway, if you didn't want me to start something, you shouldn't have been so... so... you.

[goodoldfashioned]

Oh, Crowley, dearest. You-- you must know that you, you're always you.

[That doesn't seem to make much sense, but Aziraphale is a little too busy to worry about things like sense or grammar right now.

Of course, all the (very lovely!) attention to the wings has an effect, which is that on the next pass, they FLOMPH outward like champagne when it's been uncorked or a parachute unchuted.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Oh, that's nice. That's very nice indeed. Crowley grins at it, runs his fingers through the feathers at the base of one. ]

I'm always me? I'm assuming that's a good thing...

[ Aziraphale is so beautiful. He's entranced. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

Very possibly the goodest.

[His feathers are more than a bit ruffled -- he never quite got into the habit of keeping them as neat and clean as Policy encouraged. He doesn't even bother trying to stifle his giggling as Crowley explores. If he was a bit ticklish before, well, his wings are another story.

He presses a kiss to Crowley's forehead, not as frenzied and rushed as before, rather calm and soft, a sort of thank you.

In between the laughing, of course.]

In fact, you could say there's no contest, my dear boy.

[goodtobebad]

[ Crowley studies him for a moment, stroking gently, his expression uncharacteristically earnest. Open. Vulnerable. ]

You know I love you, right?