And at that, Aziraphale jolts as if back to this plane, and quickly scurries a little away, pressing at Crowley's hand. "Ahh -- we're in public, dear."
Crowley looks puzzled by the remark about being in 'public' and glances at the trees. Were they an audience? Or perhaps the stars, he ponders as his gaze travels upwards. Probably the stars. Ever so nosy.
"Right, sorry," he agrees, letting his fingers intertwine with Aziraphale's instead, "got a bit lost in the moment there. I'll keep these in check."
And he gives a little wiggle of his wandering fingers against Aziraphale's knuckles for emphasis.
"Perhaps we should..." he starts, not knowing how to finish this request exactly.
"He....ad back inside?" He tries to act all innocent now, looking off towards the side, clearing his throat, because it's not an invitation. Definitely not!
"Of course," Crowley says softly, truly wanting it to be an invitation, but he's not very experienced in these sorts of things, especially not with humans and so he can't really be sure. He'd rather err on the side of caution than over step again.
He'd be a terrible partner if Aziraphale were afraid of him.
"The air's getting cooler now - breezy. And we have a long day tomorrow."
A long finger brushes delicately over Aziraphale's cheek, as if to beckon him to look back at Crowley.
"Of course. If you still want to stay the night," he answers, nuzzling into his neck for a second before he decides it's time to get up so they can pack up and go back.
"You are always welcome in my-- my den," he says, changing up his words to what Crowley would call it.
After all, they are to be partnered for life. So it is as much Crowley's home now as his.
Happy to hear it, Crowley beams at Aziraphale as he clambers clumsily down from where they'd been resting. The merman gathers up the blanket and supplies, looking quite giddy.
Crowley manages to make it back without much more incident beyond a bit of a stumble over some roots. He's happy though to be back in the warmth and safety of Aziraphale's home and he helps put away the food and picnic blanket.
Despite his prior energy, the walk back seems to have worn him out a little and he tries and fails to suppress a huge yawn.
Aziraphale guides Crowley towards the bed, depositing him there, trying to bully him into getting tucked in by a scholarly angelic man. "There, there, now, it's late. I'll clean up, and you just sleep."
Crowley is compliant - or at least too sleepy to put up any real protest aside from having to settle on top of the covers. For someone who lives in the cool depths of the sea, it's a bit too warm for him.
He does settle down though, quite snug as he watches Aziraphale bustle about the little hut. When he's finally done, Crowley is awake enough to beckon him back into his arms.
And into those arms Aziraphale shall tuck himself into, and be able to fall asleep and dream of lovely things and being under the sea with his beloved.
Crowley wraps his arms around him, nuzzling lazily into his neck, murmuring a soft 'good night', before drifting off.
He doesn't wake when morning comes - rather, Crowley seems quite content to burrow into the sheets, spooning Aziraphale. He is so irresistibly warm, and Crowley hasn't slept so well in ages. Without any predators to worry about, he can just laze about with his lover in his arms. Truly, land-dwellers have it very good.
Aziraphale, naturally, is much too comfortable like this to think about moving or waking up, so instead he shifts in Crowley's arms as he wakes, still half-asleep, murmuring in his general direction.
"Hrffghmph," Crowley affirms, nose buried somewhere in the crook of Aziraphale's neck. Somehow in the night he'd managed to tangle his legs all up with Aziraphale's and his brain is much too sluggish at the moment to try to sort that out. Crowley is not a creature of mornings and would quite prefer it if they perhaps came a bit later.
"Was having a nice dream," he grouses in the general vicinity of the rosy red light of dawn shining through the window.
"What sort of dream?" he asks, plaintively ignoring that very annoying thing that's pressed between them, now that Crowley's all tangled up in Aziraphale and Aziraphale is a mid-thirties virgin with lots of pent up and repressed needs.
He still smells like the ocean, and Aziraphale leans in and breathes deeply.
Crowley does not find that thing annoying. On the contrary, he's rather charmed that Aziraphale is so hot and bothered that he's managed to spring his sheath without any manual assistance.
(Does the merman know how human anatomy works? Not really.)
Rubbing gentle circles over Aziraphale's back, Crowley presses a 'good morning' kiss to the crown of his head and slides his thigh between Aziraphale's legs so that he has something to rub up against if he needs to.
"We'd gone swimming in a whole sea of flowers," he says softly, running his fingers through Aziraphale's hair. "And found a ship. One of the really big ones with one of those figures on the front of what humans think sea folk look like. Anyway, it was all empty, so we took it, made it ours, and went to Denmark."
Oh, what a lovely dream. He wishes that they could live it, but first, his eyes flutter closed and he lets a soft gasp escape from his lips.
"Crowley--" he calls, his body responding naturally by rutting against Crowley's leg, his face flushing bright red at how embarrassing that is. "D-dear, oh..." His fingers tremble as they take Crowley's arms, and he stays them there, not sure if he wants to pull Crowley away from him or to pull him closer.
"Oh I definitely am," Crowley says with a grin. "Mine's just tucked kinda deep - won't spring out without a bit of adjusting."
His head tilts curiously, gaze drifting to the tent in Aziraphale's trousers.
"I suppose s'a bit different for humans then? I guess it'd make sense if you run on the the shallower side of things. If it gets hard, it's not gonna slow you down while you're walking and you're not in any danger of having a shark bite it off."
"Oh," Aziraphale responds, feeling a bit foolish. "No, there's really... really nothing to conceal..." That would be so useful. But then, does that mean...?
Because they are engaged. And Crowley does intend to marry him. And they are quite the unorthodox pair already, breaking all the rules, and it would be very inconvenient to wake up like this every morning and not... well.
"You could just ask," he suggests. And then, there is that gleam of mischief in his eyes as an idea occurs to him. He slides his fingers down Aziraphale's arm, gently taking his hand and guiding it to where his cock is safely tucked away.
"Or, if you want a more direct approach, you can check."
There is a definite bulge between Crowley's legs where it had been almost completely smooth before, as though something tucked under the thick, smooth scales is straining to get free.
Oh, dear. Well, that certainly was-- it was warm, and bulging, and.
It definitely made Aziraphale's spring to attention. He bites his lower lip and makes the executive decision to press the palm of his hand down just a tad between Crowley's legs, see if that does anything to help fish him out.
Aziraphale does, indeed, get results, and Crowley makes a soft 'oh' of surprise - he wasn't expecting it to feel that good.
Crowley's cock pushes out about half-way and it's much less alien and unfamiliar than one might expect. It's rather similar to a human's in shape, size, and colour, but it's smoother, with no defined ridges at the crown, the head more tapered than domed, and there's a glossy sheen to it, suggesting that his sheath keeps it nice and slick.
His breathing quickening with desire, he strokes Aziraphale's cheek gently before his hand wanders once more to the hem of his shirt, the merman raising an inquiring brow.
He feels a little bit shy, but he doesn't know why, because here he is with Crowley who's usually naked, who has let him touch his cock, pretty and shiny thing that it is.
So Aziraphale learns to be brave, and slides out of his pajama trousers, revealing his very humanoid and probably odd-looking penis with its flushed pink tip and what with it sitting atop a thatch of downy-soft blond hair.
"Could I...?" he asks, reaching for Crowley with interest.
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inlovewithmycar
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And not married yet. He's got to remind himself.
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"Right, sorry," he agrees, letting his fingers intertwine with Aziraphale's instead, "got a bit lost in the moment there. I'll keep these in check."
And he gives a little wiggle of his wandering fingers against Aziraphale's knuckles for emphasis.
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"He....ad back inside?" He tries to act all innocent now, looking off towards the side, clearing his throat, because it's not an invitation. Definitely not!
Unless Crowley... wants it to be.
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He'd be a terrible partner if Aziraphale were afraid of him.
"The air's getting cooler now - breezy. And we have a long day tomorrow."
A long finger brushes delicately over Aziraphale's cheek, as if to beckon him to look back at Crowley.
"Do you still want me to stay the night?"
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"You are always welcome in my-- my den," he says, changing up his words to what Crowley would call it.
After all, they are to be partnered for life. So it is as much Crowley's home now as his.
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"Then I'll stay - keep you warm and safe."
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He helps Crowley to his feet, and guides him back towards the cabin, careful to watch his legs and make sure they don't give out from under him.
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Despite his prior energy, the walk back seems to have worn him out a little and he tries and fails to suppress a huge yawn.
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He does settle down though, quite snug as he watches Aziraphale bustle about the little hut. When he's finally done, Crowley is awake enough to beckon him back into his arms.
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He doesn't wake when morning comes - rather, Crowley seems quite content to burrow into the sheets, spooning Aziraphale. He is so irresistibly warm, and Crowley hasn't slept so well in ages. Without any predators to worry about, he can just laze about with his lover in his arms. Truly, land-dwellers have it very good.
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"Is it already morning?"
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"Was having a nice dream," he grouses in the general vicinity of the rosy red light of dawn shining through the window.
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He still smells like the ocean, and Aziraphale leans in and breathes deeply.
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(Does the merman know how human anatomy works? Not really.)
Rubbing gentle circles over Aziraphale's back, Crowley presses a 'good morning' kiss to the crown of his head and slides his thigh between Aziraphale's legs so that he has something to rub up against if he needs to.
"We'd gone swimming in a whole sea of flowers," he says softly, running his fingers through Aziraphale's hair. "And found a ship. One of the really big ones with one of those figures on the front of what humans think sea folk look like. Anyway, it was all empty, so we took it, made it ours, and went to Denmark."
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"Crowley--" he calls, his body responding naturally by rutting against Crowley's leg, his face flushing bright red at how embarrassing that is. "D-dear, oh..." His fingers tremble as they take Crowley's arms, and he stays them there, not sure if he wants to pull Crowley away from him or to pull him closer.
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"You don't have to, love. Just offering. I know how urgent it feels when you're hot and bothered enough to actually show."
He offers a reassuring smile.
"We can take care of it together or, if you want, I can give you a bit of privacy."
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--Crowley's not. Not showing any afflictions, and it really puts Aziraphale out of the mood. "Well certainly I don't want to if-- if you're not..."
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His head tilts curiously, gaze drifting to the tent in Aziraphale's trousers.
"I suppose s'a bit different for humans then? I guess it'd make sense if you run on the the shallower side of things. If it gets hard, it's not gonna slow you down while you're walking and you're not in any danger of having a shark bite it off."
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Because they are engaged. And Crowley does intend to marry him. And they are quite the unorthodox pair already, breaking all the rules, and it would be very inconvenient to wake up like this every morning and not... well.
And not.
"Well, how am I supposed to... to know?"
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"Or, if you want a more direct approach, you can check."
There is a definite bulge between Crowley's legs where it had been almost completely smooth before, as though something tucked under the thick, smooth scales is straining to get free.
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It definitely made Aziraphale's spring to attention. He bites his lower lip and makes the executive decision to press the palm of his hand down just a tad between Crowley's legs, see if that does anything to help fish him out.
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Crowley's cock pushes out about half-way and it's much less alien and unfamiliar than one might expect. It's rather similar to a human's in shape, size, and colour, but it's smoother, with no defined ridges at the crown, the head more tapered than domed, and there's a glossy sheen to it, suggesting that his sheath keeps it nice and slick.
His breathing quickening with desire, he strokes Aziraphale's cheek gently before his hand wanders once more to the hem of his shirt, the merman raising an inquiring brow.
"Can I see you too, love?"
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So Aziraphale learns to be brave, and slides out of his pajama trousers, revealing his very humanoid and probably odd-looking penis with its flushed pink tip and what with it sitting atop a thatch of downy-soft blond hair.
"Could I...?" he asks, reaching for Crowley with interest.
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