[ It says something when a vampire states that they don't want to hurt someone, especially if it's for blood. While it's perfectly acceptable to preserve livestock and keep them alive for easy access it's far too common for drink a person dry—especially when their blood tastes good, even for a veteran vampire it's so easy to be whisked away in desire once it touches their tongue.
And Crowley's no exception. Because when the offer was available there was a brief moment where he did want to bite Aoba, too, even if he was well aware that taking blood from him once more would likely be fatal. Driven by blood lust, he doubts he would even be able to hear any whimpering or pleas of release if he had actually took his fangs and dug them into the human's neck.
—But would he care? Why does he care?
He believes the questions are just a passing thought until he finds himself reaching back to hold them in the back of his head. Perhaps they won't be answered today or tomorrow, but he has all the time in the world to figure it out.
Guided by the other man he's pulling himself closer, one arm wrapping itself around his waist as his free hand curls itself into a nearby pillow. It helps keep himself from grabbing Aoba's hair or his neck, desperately, an all too evident shiver of delight running down his spine when he hears his name being whispered. Breath shaky, a little hoarse, he chuckles lightly and flashes a quick, toothy grin before their lips are being met.
Crowley allows himself to relax, body flush against Aoba, or at least to some extent as he feels the growing hardness of the other man against his stomach. And his kisses don't falter, remaining heavy, tasting every inch of Aoba's mouth and more as they remain tangled against each other in a way that Crowley can learn to enjoy, but soon enough he's giving the man room to air. ] Wanna do it how you wanted last night?
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And Crowley's no exception. Because when the offer was available there was a brief moment where he did want to bite Aoba, too, even if he was well aware that taking blood from him once more would likely be fatal. Driven by blood lust, he doubts he would even be able to hear any whimpering or pleas of release if he had actually took his fangs and dug them into the human's neck.
—But would he care? Why does he care?
He believes the questions are just a passing thought until he finds himself reaching back to hold them in the back of his head. Perhaps they won't be answered today or tomorrow, but he has all the time in the world to figure it out.
Guided by the other man he's pulling himself closer, one arm wrapping itself around his waist as his free hand curls itself into a nearby pillow. It helps keep himself from grabbing Aoba's hair or his neck, desperately, an all too evident shiver of delight running down his spine when he hears his name being whispered. Breath shaky, a little hoarse, he chuckles lightly and flashes a quick, toothy grin before their lips are being met.
Crowley allows himself to relax, body flush against Aoba, or at least to some extent as he feels the growing hardness of the other man against his stomach. And his kisses don't falter, remaining heavy, tasting every inch of Aoba's mouth and more as they remain tangled against each other in a way that Crowley can learn to enjoy, but soon enough he's giving the man room to air. ] Wanna do it how you wanted last night?