Sex to Music (Queen Edition) - Kinktober 2024 #18
(Prompt fills for Quefish's Ineffable Kinktober list.)
An amorous Crowley, true to form, is hoist once again with his own petard.
Chapter rating E, just barely.
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“Doesn’t sound like any of the music I remember,” said Crowley, picking up the cardboard sleeve. “Kinda – jazzy.” Herald trumpets, yes, but in a cantering, syncopated rhythm tossed back and forth with the string section. Crowley did a little bump-and-grind as he read down the track titles.
“Well, dear, Benjamin Britten is practically contemporary.”
“Know what that makes me think of?”
“Dear – “ Aziraphale had just time to set down the glass before Crowley slipped arms around his midsection, frankly humping his arse in time to the music which, according to the liner notes, depicted The Tournament. “Break a lance?”
(Author is virtually bebop-illiterate, so instead of the 20th century band, you get Britten's Gloriana suite, drawn from his opera about Elizabeth the First.)
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