[ Aziraphale feels sweat drip down his brow and his back as he lifts and slowly lowers himself on Crowley's fingers, and he can both barely take another one while simultaneously craving it, craving more of him. His body shudders with the thought as his hands work on Crowley's cock, thick and long and waiting so very patiently for its turn. His hips have managed to take over for his brain, which is just as well since he can hardly string a single thought together at the moment besides how good it feels to have Crowley burying his fingers inside of him, to have his hips rocking against him as a wave to a canoe, the soft ache of every little movement feeling momentous and leaving his nerves frazzled and wanting. ]
I need you.
[ He can barely breathe out the words, biting back his groans as he seemingly sinks lower and lower on Crowley's fingers, and he is so ready for what comes next. He can't wait for it any longer, feeling like he might just die of desire in this moment. Can Crowley see as his heart beats rapidly against his chest like a bird trapped in a cage, his breath puffing out little "oh"s with each arc of his hips?
Aziraphale could survive in outer space and could easily and truthfully say that he needs this more than he needs to breathe, that his want, unchecked, will rapidly consume the both of them.
He waits for Crowley to withdraw his fingers and instinctively misses him so, feeling suddenly empty. But he shuffles himself backwards and lines their hips up, guides Crowley towards him and just lets gravity do all the work. His eyes widen at the sensation, feeling bigger and more solid inside of him than it had in his hands. Aziraphale braces himself on Crowley's chest once he's sunk all the way down, and finds that he has to catch his breath from having fiercely held it in. ]
definitely getting rid of your husband's pants
I need you.
[ He can barely breathe out the words, biting back his groans as he seemingly sinks lower and lower on Crowley's fingers, and he is so ready for what comes next. He can't wait for it any longer, feeling like he might just die of desire in this moment. Can Crowley see as his heart beats rapidly against his chest like a bird trapped in a cage, his breath puffing out little "oh"s with each arc of his hips?
Aziraphale could survive in outer space and could easily and truthfully say that he needs this more than he needs to breathe, that his want, unchecked, will rapidly consume the both of them.
He waits for Crowley to withdraw his fingers and instinctively misses him so, feeling suddenly empty. But he shuffles himself backwards and lines their hips up, guides Crowley towards him and just lets gravity do all the work. His eyes widen at the sensation, feeling bigger and more solid inside of him than it had in his hands. Aziraphale braces himself on Crowley's chest once he's sunk all the way down, and finds that he has to catch his breath from having fiercely held it in. ]