demonicmiracle | (duplicity) ic contact

[He hums a laugh, more amused by that look than anything, trying to soften it with a light kiss to the corner of his mouth.]

They made a movie, you'd hate it. [Crowley liked it, though, he always thought Will would've appreciated it.] They've got Mecrutio in drag at one point, so it's not far off from Will's original vision.

[Teasing, just a little.]

This isn't another case of telling me I'll hate it to throw me off the trail, is it?

[A light tease of his own.]

Which song was it?

[He reaches up to tuck a stray lock behind Crowley's ear.]

If you want to try it, I'll watch it with you, think I've got it on my laptop.

[This is the bonus of being a demon who doesn't understand how much space he was supposed to have on his phone; he had a whole lot of movies saved on there that he's transferred to his laptop since arriving.

His smile softens, head tilting into the touch. He's taken to wearing his hair long, lately, if only to allow more excuses for it to be touched.]

The one by Garbage. I've always liked Shirley Manson's voice, saw her perform once in Edinburgh with her first band, can't remember the name of them.

Throw in the promise of popcorn and a blanket on the davenport, and you have a date.

[Eyes bright. It's fun to be able to say such things. Silly things. Very human things, but what's not to love about dates?]

Ah, yes. That one. It's fitting. Her voice is rich, expressive.

[She'd sold it, which is one reason he decided in the end to include that one.]

All that and I'll make you a hot cocoa, if you like. I've gotten very good at them.

[He'd taught himself not long after they first discovered them, purely because Aziraphale likes them, but he's perfected his recipe over time.]

That it is. [There's a soft, contented hum as he leans in to nuzzle his cheek, before setting his head on his shoulder, wriggling a bit to comfortable.] M'not interrupting any plans, am I?

You're so good to me.

[He turns in toward the nuzzle, rubbing as affectionately as a cat. His hands drop lower to rest at his hips, a gentle curve of fingers over the contours.]

Only my plan to finish a book. They never get impatient waiting for me. I'm glad you liked them. The songs.

[He hadn't exactly worried he wouldn't. It's just that music taste is a tricky thing, and picking the right song for a mood or message even trickier. Only a few words or a few notes can completely alter the meaning. He had found far more "almosts" than "just rights."]

[Even in this context, those words send a lovely thrill through him, and he smiles against Aziraphale's throat, pressing a soft kiss there.]

Oh, I'm much more interesting than your books. [Debatable, depending on the book, but he's only teasing.] 'Course I like them, angel, you picked them for me. Even if they were all dreadful pop songs I'd still have liked them.

[There's a singular pleasure in feeling a smile against his skin. It's still new enough to him that it gives him butterflies, possibly even more than certain kisses.]

More interactive. [Coy. He can't just...give him every point, or he'll grow insufferable.]

I couldn't stick long with the pop. I tried. They were so...insipid.

But you here. Now. Worth my brief foray. And every misstep into the wrong genre.

[He nuzzles against the side of his head, lips parted for a soft drag against his temple. His chin follows in a nudge.]

[Crowley doesn't bother to stifle his laughter, chuckling under his breath.]

That's me alright, interactive. Top of the range demon you've got in your lap, all sorts of bells and whistles you can play with.

[He wasn't planning to be terrible, but it's impossible not to rise to the challenge when Aziraphale gets coy like that.]

Was all this a ploy to get me to come over? You know you could've just asked if you missed me so much.

[He makes a soft, pleased little sound, turning his head at that nudge so he can kiss Aziraphale's chin.]

I could say some choice words to you right now. You'd enjoy them too much.

[He's laughing, too. He loves him when he's awful, loves feeling him shake in his arms and on his lap with mirth. That doesn't happen nearly often enough.

He hums very softly under his breath.]

I didn't know when you'd find them. I was prepared for it to be a while. I wasn't sure how you'd let me know.

[While Crowley's head is lifted, he takes a small sip of a kiss. A little sample of the softness of lips.]

But I knew you would.

And yet you're not saying them. Am I being punished for something?

[The pout is audible in his voice, as if he's incredibly upset that Aziraphale isn't sharing all those choice words with him, when clearly he deserves to hear them.]

I've not got a lot of playlists, really, that was what made it easy to find. [He tends to just listen by band or genre, he's usually too lazy to make dedicated playlists, so the list of them was noticeably longer when he happened to check it.

He's still smiling into the kiss, treating Aziraphale to a teasing nip of his lower lip.] Not the sort of thing I'd keep to myself, really.

[He wants him to know how much he appreciates those gestures.]

I am not encouraging you. You do not need my encouragement for that behavior.

[Case in point!]

I'm not sorry you found it quickly.

[Or that he chose to come to him. Kisses in the afternoon are better than tea by far. He makes a different sort of sound for the nip. Not quite the same as one of his food sounds. Close.]

And of course I missed you, you silly thing.

Don't pretend you don't like it.

[As if he can't be just as terrible in turn. Now that they've found a new way to tease each other, it's been fun to test the edges of it, to see what does and doesn't get to him.

He grins, pleased with himself, for getting that sound out of him. He leans back, hands clasped at the back of Aziraphale's neck so he doesn't overbalance and go tumbling to the floor.]

Missed you, too. [Today, but also in general.] M'glad you turned up here when you did, was starting to go mad with boredom. I was going to try knitting.

[He wasn't.]

Edited 2020-02-25 20:29 (UTC)

Pretend.

[He knows his scoff is transparent. Despite the fact that he has a good hold of his neck, his hands slip higher up his back, double bracing.

He turns a suddenly sunny grin back on him.]

That's a lovely idea! We could learn together.

[If he takes him seriously and takes him up on it, he'll have no one to blame but himself.]

Maybe add in petit point while we're at it. Really stave off that boredom.

Yes, pretend.

[There's a mocking little wiggle to go with that, all the way from his head to his hips because he's nothing if not a serpent.

And then his eyebrows arch up.]

Sorry, am I not keeping you entertained enough? Are you bored, sweetheart?

[There's something dangerous in his tone. Or it would be dangerous, if this were anyone but Aziraphale.]

[He rolls his eyes. The expected mockery is nothing new. At that dangerous tone, he tips his head slightly. There's a momentary thoughtful look, and then...]

~I said "Brother, you speak to me of passion
You said never to settle for nothing less
Well, it's in the way he walks,
It's in the way he talks
His smile, his anger and his kisses."~

[His singing voice is lower than his speaking voice, a little out of practice, but he's in tune with the verse.]

[Oh no.

This was a terrible mistake. Crowley's face does a complicated thing where he tries not to look flustered, attempting to cover it with a scowl and utterly failing at both.]

You're a bloody menace, angel.

[That went even better than he'd hoped. It's such a satisfied smile. He nuzzles in to kiss the side of his throat in a soft little trail up to that spot beneath his ear.]

Do I seem bored, dear?

[His breath is a warm puff of air in the question.]

[It hasn't escaped his notice that Aziraphale seems fond of that spot, which is both fortunate and unfortunate, because it turns out he quite likes it, too, and that makes him utterly weak. He exhales a shaky breath, head tilted to give him better access. He at least has the self-control not to squirm.]

Not, uh, not right now, no. Seems like you're enjoying yourself, actually.

So glad that's sorted.

[He's perfectly content to take advantage of the access offered without taking it too far. He feels as though he could endlessly toy and explore just right there, with lips and tongue, a small pinch of teeth. Another soothe of tongue after it.

His hands of his back are warm, a squeeze of arms drawing him back closer against him.]

What's your favorite film?

[Idly, he wonders if there might come a point in this thing between them where he won't be so easily undone by just a few touches, but it certainly isn't going to happen anytime soon. A shiver runs down his spine and he swallows thickly even as he allows Aziraphale to draw him closer, grounding himself with a steady hold around his shoulders.]

Hard question to answer, sort of depends on what I'm in the mood for. Goldfinger's good, always love a Bond film. The Princess Bride if I'm feeling like a bit of a sap. Nosferatu's a classic, too. Why do you ask?

Well... [He pauses to tip his head in more for a nuzzle, letting the tip of his nose tease against his earlobe.]

It occurred to me it's something I don't know about you. Something any human as close as we are to each other would know about their partner.

[He draws back to look at him.]

We never had the leisure for talks like that, either too busy catching up, briefing each other on the next jobs to divvy, or trying to save the world. But now I know.

[Oh, so he's just going straight for his heart, too? It's so unbearably sweet.]

Oh, I dunno, I know a lot of your favourites. [But then, a lot of Aziraphale's favourites have stayed the same for a decent number of decades, especially when it comes to literature and music.] Think it might just be that I don't talk about what I like, the way you do.

[It's fine for some things, he'd have easily admitted that he likes Bond films, but The Princess Bride? It's like letting Aziraphale listen to the music he likes, the revealing songs. Crowley keeps so much of himself wrapped up tight, where no one can get at it, where they can't decide it isn't good enough.]

Yes, that might be it. Regardless, I hope you talk more about it all now. I'm not going to start interrogating you. It would simply be nice to know these things. As they come up.

[He sighs. It's more of a happy sound than anything else.]

I've seen The Princess Bride. It was an outdoor screening in one of the parks one summer. I don't recall which now. It was very sweet. Silly. The sort of thing I've always had a weakness for.

[Hearing Crowley does, too...well, it's not surprising now, not after everything they've confessed and done so far. Had he told him back on Earth, he'd have thought for sure he was having fun at his expense.]

Wuthering Heights. 1939. I've always had a weakness for a Byronic anti-hero.

Oh, you won't be able to shut me up now.

[Something of an exaggeration, but not entirely untrue. He's learning to be more open about — himself, what he likes, what he wants. At least with Aziraphale.]

There's a thing I didn't know, thought you weren't much for watching movies.

[Maybe he'll try to dig up a few more that he thinks Aziraphale will like. He wrinkles his nose at the mention of Wuthering Heights, but leans in to kiss him sweetly regardless.]

You and your Byronic — [Whatever he was about to say is cut short, as he squints, suddenly (playfully) suspicious.] Do you have a type, angel?

[Not that he'd necessarily call himself Byronic anything, but there are a few traits that he shares with the archetype.]

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