Date: 2019-10-01 10:46 pm (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: Wings, calm (Look.)
He knows Crowley would do anything. Crowley has always done everything, even when the angel didn't expect it. Even when, by all accounts, he shouldn't have. When he should have stayed away, when they were enemies, when the angel pushed him away. Always, he always came back. He was always there when the angel allowed him to be, kept his distance when the angel asked or demanded it. Always helped. Always listened. Always came back. Always understood. Always cared.

The angel groans quietly in their kiss, oh, he wants more, more of those, so many chances, to much time to make up for, and, hopefully, so much time ahead to enjoy.

He moves his hands away from Crowley's back, moving his arms along with his touch, intertwining their fingers, thighs pressing against Crowley's sides, feeling their bodies move together, wings brushing against Crowley's body and his dark wings, and he's lost, he's lost and he never wants to find the way back.
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