[The book is sent to wait nearby, a brand new bookmark keeping Aziraphale's place as Crowley winds his arms around his shoulders, burying one hand in his hair as he's drawn down into the kiss.
It's a slow heat that he pours into it, unhurried, as if he has all the time in the world to do nothing but kiss Aziraphale and show all his love this way, in parting lips and dragging tongues. He wonders if it'll ever stop feeling impossible that they're allowed to do this, that Aziraphale can leave him mixtapes and Crowley can come claim kisses from him in return.
When he finally breaks apart a few minutes (hours?) later, it's only to pepper kisses all over his face, sweet little things that he'd deny ever doing.]
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It's a slow heat that he pours into it, unhurried, as if he has all the time in the world to do nothing but kiss Aziraphale and show all his love this way, in parting lips and dragging tongues. He wonders if it'll ever stop feeling impossible that they're allowed to do this, that Aziraphale can leave him mixtapes and Crowley can come claim kisses from him in return.
When he finally breaks apart a few minutes (hours?) later, it's only to pepper kisses all over his face, sweet little things that he'd deny ever doing.]
Found your songs.