Date: 2019-09-24 02:22 am (UTC)
sauntered_downward: (Default)
Crowley feels the slide of stories across his soul. The feelings of art, creation. Whole, pure, artistic. Something so uniquely Aziraphale that the demon can't help but shudder at their perfection. He wouldn't expect something thrilling and sinful from the angel, he'd expect something that would get his blood pumping from emotion and heart instead, and he isn't at all disappointed. Possibility. That's what he feels from the angel's sharing. Giving to him the endless possibility of a story.

What kind of a story do they share? 6000 years of friendship? Of loving? Of wondering and staring and longing? What sort of possibility do they have now, making love in a small flat in Japan? What does it mean for the world? Probably nothing for the whole universe, but it means everything to Crowley. He loves this moment, and he expresses his pleasure at the angel's choice through his emotions. He shares his thrill at the stories back to him.

Meanwhile, he lowers his head, slowly working himself up and down over the angel's shaft, tracing his tongue as he works his mouth. He could share a few sinful stories of his own this way, but it's a bit better to just share what he knows. And, after all, the demon's tongue might not be forked, exactly, but it does know what it's doing.
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𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞

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