( at first, Aoba's not sure what's going on. when he's pushed he goes over easily, half because he's getting tired holding the position, half because he's not expecting to be toppled. for Crowley, it must be like poking a baby first learning to walk and watching it fall on its bottom. )
Nn..? ( a soft noise of confusion. did he do something wrong? he didn't—so when Crowley removes the belt despite two spanks left out of his punishment, Aoba's stomach flips. what does... this mean? the unsettled feeling doesn't go away, only worsens when the vampire examines the chafing around his wrists. then—then laces their fingers together just how Aoba likes, and: ) ... ah.
( the press of lips against his wrists draws a shiver, goosebumps prickling across warmed skin. it does hurt, yet... right now, he doesn't even notice it. not when he's watching Crowley like this. rapt fascination as his heart thuds painfully, like it really might just... crack, from too much trying to shove itself in there. those scrapes will hurt more when the adrenaline's died down but even then, Aoba won't care about them. it's fine.
seriously... how can he even think about some stings or bruises when Crowley's looking at him like that? it's something like what he'd seen earlier only... not. it's not anything he gets from the man's expression—if anything, that's gone flat, reflecting none of the earlier mirth or dominance. what's compelling is what lies in his eyes, like he's... asking for something, wanting something, and doesn't know how to ask for it. maybe Crowley doesn't even understand it himself. Aoba ... has an idea. or, rather, a feeling, whatever Crowley asking for striking a chord with something more natural, instinctual, that makes Aoba move wordlessly.
crawling into his lap, pressing chest to chest, though Aoba's positioned himself to have a bit of height by resting on his knees. one hand he keeps clasped with Crowley's for now. the other, he brings up to stroke his thumb across the vampire's cheek, tracing underneath his eye at first before moving to his lips, skimming along the bottom one before leaning down and pressing a kiss against his mouth. not the heated, lustful kisses of earlier. this is soft, tender in a way that none of the kisses before have been, a whole different kind of desire. it's brief, yet for all its briefness he pours a lot into it—a lot he doesn't understand, some he does but shouldn't feel.
and before he can do anything stupid he turns his face away, tucking it down against the slope of Crowley's throat. his arms find their way around in a tight embrace as he rests there, nuzzling close, feeling himself calm and melt against the other man. )
... Crowley.
( a soft utterance against Crowley's throat as he breathes in his scent.
there's no doubt that he still wants to have sex. he wants to get Crowley off, to make him feel good, for them to feel good together—but he wants this, too. whatever it's turning out to be. )
no subject
Nn..? ( a soft noise of confusion. did he do something wrong? he didn't—so when Crowley removes the belt despite two spanks left out of his punishment, Aoba's stomach flips. what does... this mean? the unsettled feeling doesn't go away, only worsens when the vampire examines the chafing around his wrists. then—then laces their fingers together just how Aoba likes, and: ) ... ah.
( the press of lips against his wrists draws a shiver, goosebumps prickling across warmed skin. it does hurt, yet... right now, he doesn't even notice it. not when he's watching Crowley like this. rapt fascination as his heart thuds painfully, like it really might just... crack, from too much trying to shove itself in there. those scrapes will hurt more when the adrenaline's died down but even then, Aoba won't care about them. it's fine.
seriously... how can he even think about some stings or bruises when Crowley's looking at him like that? it's something like what he'd seen earlier only... not. it's not anything he gets from the man's expression—if anything, that's gone flat, reflecting none of the earlier mirth or dominance. what's compelling is what lies in his eyes, like he's... asking for something, wanting something, and doesn't know how to ask for it. maybe Crowley doesn't even understand it himself. Aoba ... has an idea. or, rather, a feeling, whatever Crowley asking for striking a chord with something more natural, instinctual, that makes Aoba move wordlessly.
crawling into his lap, pressing chest to chest, though Aoba's positioned himself to have a bit of height by resting on his knees. one hand he keeps clasped with Crowley's for now. the other, he brings up to stroke his thumb across the vampire's cheek, tracing underneath his eye at first before moving to his lips, skimming along the bottom one before leaning down and pressing a kiss against his mouth. not the heated, lustful kisses of earlier. this is soft, tender in a way that none of the kisses before have been, a whole different kind of desire. it's brief, yet for all its briefness he pours a lot into it—a lot he doesn't understand, some he does but shouldn't feel.
and before he can do anything stupid he turns his face away, tucking it down against the slope of Crowley's throat. his arms find their way around in a tight embrace as he rests there, nuzzling close, feeling himself calm and melt against the other man. )
... Crowley.
( a soft utterance against Crowley's throat as he breathes in his scent.
there's no doubt that he still wants to have sex. he wants to get Crowley off, to make him feel good, for them to feel good together—but he wants this, too. whatever it's turning out to be. )