Crowley brushed some damp hair out of his eyes and re-steadied his bruising grip on the angel's hips.
"If you're still talking about the damn blanket, I know I'm not doing this right."
And in response to the fevered plea, he did begin to move. Cautiously at first, but when Aziraphale didn't tell him to stop, with more and more intensity. It was instinctual, this movement, and seemed to stem from his body alone. He was content to be the passenger, though, since it seemed to know what it was doing. And the feelings were amazing. The angel was warm and tight and every time he flexed or squeezed or did whatever it was that he was doing, it shorted out Crowley's brain.
But it wasn't just the sliding, gliding, perfect friction, wasn't just the dewy damp skin and bright eyes and tight heat; there was another connection going on. Something that Crowley felt deeper than any physical act. Somehow this taking, this giving, this sharing of bodies, opened up to sharing of minds and hearts and souls. He'd never felt so close to Aziraphale as he did when he was inside him. It was an emotional bond unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It explained a few things about human nature, but he couldn't think about that now. All he could do was move faster and harder, taking his cues from the angel's tiny movements and plaintive noises. Building towards his own climax, and trying to put it off as long as possible to enjoy the sweet tension, his curiosity got the better of him.
"Aziraphale..." The name rolled off his tongue. "What's it like, angel?"
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"If you're still talking about the damn blanket, I know I'm not doing this right."
And in response to the fevered plea, he did begin to move. Cautiously at first, but when Aziraphale didn't tell him to stop, with more and more intensity. It was instinctual, this movement, and seemed to stem from his body alone. He was content to be the passenger, though, since it seemed to know what it was doing. And the feelings were amazing. The angel was warm and tight and every time he flexed or squeezed or did whatever it was that he was doing, it shorted out Crowley's brain.
But it wasn't just the sliding, gliding, perfect friction, wasn't just the dewy damp skin and bright eyes and tight heat; there was another connection going on. Something that Crowley felt deeper than any physical act. Somehow this taking, this giving, this sharing of bodies, opened up to sharing of minds and hearts and souls. He'd never felt so close to Aziraphale as he did when he was inside him. It was an emotional bond unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It explained a few things about human nature, but he couldn't think about that now. All he could do was move faster and harder, taking his cues from the angel's tiny movements and plaintive noises. Building towards his own climax, and trying to put it off as long as possible to enjoy the sweet tension, his curiosity got the better of him.
"Aziraphale..." The name rolled off his tongue. "What's it like, angel?"