thinking about crowley getting eaten out - such a whiny, shivering, needy mess laid out on the old, antique desk while aziraphale is between his thighs like he belongs there. aziraphale, the absolute bastard, making him spread his legs further and further apart so he can look (and drink 😏) his fill. overstimulated, and in constant fear of being caught, crowley tries to keep silent to no avail. he can barely walk out of the bookshop after, his legs are absolute jelly. and everytime aziraphale dines out with him, he has to sit through the torture of knowing exactly how that cute, pink tongue feels inside him.
here did you want my credit card number too because i can't think of anything else of equal value in exchange for you hand-delivering me my rights with this
