( dtcf sounds good when he's tired from coming twice before and offering himself up as dinner
and he's feeling the same way, anyway. moods matching almost as well as their kinks do. there's a similar kind of tingling in his own chest, the flood of warmth and twinge of excitement, anticipation, though still lazy and sluggish in a comfortable way.
the next huff he lets out is one of pleasure. yeah, I'm gonna need you. good. he wants to be needed, wants to help, wants to... make Crowley feel good, or happy, or whatever else. he wouldn't be satisfied with just watching the man do it himself. and if Crowley says he'll tell him later—he can accept that, not likely to let it go, stubborn as he can be. )
Mm... okay.
( a single kiss isn't good enough for either of them. Aoba presses closer, not-so-quietly delighting in the pressure of an arm around his waist when it evokes a short groan, meeting their lips again with hunger of his own. one hand finds itself in Crowley's hair before he's even thinking about it, curling soft locks around fingers and tugging as he tilts his head. parting lips, tongue slowly making its way to flick against Crowley's, lazy movement that's more tasting and appreciative than before.
this time he doesn't try to break away, doesn't want to. if he could lazily kiss Crowley for hours, he would. learn every inch of his mouth thoroughly and remember the feeling of it and his teeth, his tongue, the way his lips move. another selfish thought but it doesn't seem like he minds it when Aoba's selfish. )
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and he's feeling the same way, anyway. moods matching almost as well as their kinks do. there's a similar kind of tingling in his own chest, the flood of warmth and twinge of excitement, anticipation, though still lazy and sluggish in a comfortable way.
the next huff he lets out is one of pleasure. yeah, I'm gonna need you. good. he wants to be needed, wants to help, wants to... make Crowley feel good, or happy, or whatever else. he wouldn't be satisfied with just watching the man do it himself. and if Crowley says he'll tell him later—he can accept that, not likely to let it go, stubborn as he can be. )
Mm... okay.
( a single kiss isn't good enough for either of them. Aoba presses closer, not-so-quietly delighting in the pressure of an arm around his waist when it evokes a short groan, meeting their lips again with hunger of his own. one hand finds itself in Crowley's hair before he's even thinking about it, curling soft locks around fingers and tugging as he tilts his head. parting lips, tongue slowly making its way to flick against Crowley's, lazy movement that's more tasting and appreciative than before.
this time he doesn't try to break away, doesn't want to. if he could lazily kiss Crowley for hours, he would. learn every inch of his mouth thoroughly and remember the feeling of it and his teeth, his tongue, the way his lips move. another selfish thought but it doesn't seem like he minds it when Aoba's selfish. )