milliways_bar | (no subject)

Current Mood: determined

(no subject)

*In the doorway, Crowley and a small blonde woman appear. She's holding tightly to his hand, but as soon as she's taken a seat in a booth he bows his head slightly, grinning, and heads to the bar. She watches him, chewing her lip thoughtfully*

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*she shifts slightly*

I... no, you're right. I'm really not.

*she traces the lines of his palm*

*he watches her slender fingertips move across his hand, struck again by how small the angel's hand is. He's almost afraid to close his own around it, for fear of breaking it*

*since Crowley remains still, she skims her fingers over the heel of his hand and onto his wrist, feeling his heartbeat against her skin. She's oddly intent*

*he wonders how well Aziraphael can feel the quickening of the pulse beneath her hand. If he'd thought to hide his reaction, it's given away when he swallows, dry-mouthed. His thumb slips beneath the hem of the angel's top, resting aganst the skin there*

*she draws in a quick breath, nails digging slightly, unnoticed, into Crowley's skin. She looks up at the demon*

*those blue eyes are dangerous to look at, so his eyes flicker downwards. It's not like last time, and he's not taken by surprise, and slowly, haltingly, he leans in, and hesitates, and then brushes painfully careful lips over Aziraphael's*

*his kiss is different but the taste is the same, familiar and intoxicating. She moans softly and opens her mouth, touches his lips fleetingly with her tongue*

*he exhales shakily, hand tightening on her hip, and allows his tongue to flicker over the angel's lips in return*

*slowly she deepens the kiss, brushing her tongue against his. One hand still clutches his wrist tightly while the other lifts to the back of his neck, fingertips running along the line where collar meets skin*

*there's a soft sound coming from the back of the demon's throat, as Crowley's free hand slides from Aziraphael's hip to the small of her back; not quite pulling her closer, but making a persuasive argument against pulling away*

*she moves closer on her own, letting go of his wrist so she can slip her hand underneath his jacket, tracing the line of his spine with shaking fingers*

*he hisses into her mouth, the hand that she releases dropping to Aziraphael's knee, before beginning a slow slide upwards*

*his hiss makes her gasp, pulling away for a second as the hand on his neck pushes up into his hair, tightens there. She presses soft lips to the angle of his jaw, then up to run her tongue over the rim of his ear. She shifts involuntarily and moans softly, as he moves his hand*

Uhm.

*if Crowley was going to say anything, he's forgotten what it was, words turning into incoherent stutters at the feel of the angel's tongue tracing over his ear. His hand reaches the top of her leg, thumb resting along the join between thigh and hip*

*the angel bites her lip, heart racing, and turns her face; coal black hair against her skin. Her hand leaves Crowley's hair and plays with a button on his shirt*

*he drops his head to her shoulder, nuzzling her throat, his breathing slightly irregular against the skin of her neck*

*she tilts her head, slipping the button open and running her fingers over the skin of his throat as her other hand rests on the small of his back, pressing him closer*

I -

*it takes him a moment to get his words straight*

Should we...?

*her fingers still against his skin*

Please.

*he has to pry himself away to slide out of the booth, but when he does, he turns back immediately, hand outstretched*

*she weaves her fingers with his and allows him to guide her to the stairs (http://www.livejournal.com/users/aj_crawley/29578.html)*

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