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.
"Please do," Crowley implores, pressing kiss after kiss to Aziraphale's lips. He pauses, however, unable to hide his curiosity as his lover drops his trousers, revealing quite a proud and handsome cock, all out in the open, free and fearless. No wonder humans wore so many clothes - what a precarious position to have one's delicates.
"I had no idea humans had hair going all the way down," he remarks, utterly charmed as he twirls a finger amid the curls of pubic hair. "Every inch of you is just so lovely."
Aziraphale's breath hitches and his pupils dilate as Crowley curls his fingers into the thatch of blond and he fumbles a little with Crowley's cock, trying to steady it in both of his hands as starts to give him light, testing strokes. "Does this feel good?" he inquires softly, his voice having dropped to a bare, shy whisper.
"Yes - oh - yes, it does," Crowley responds, his voice just as quiet though without a trace of shyness. "Just you touching it is even even better when I do it myself."
He runs his own hand tentatively along the length of Aziraphale's erection, tracing the vein and ridges with the tips of his fingers, thumbing curiously at the slit.
Oh-- well, yes, that's-- his hips twitch as he bucks into Crowley's touch, his cock super-sensitive with lack of other attention. "Ah, yes, that's perfectly..."
His breath turns into a gasp, as his strokes against Crowley grow in speed, and he leans in and groans softly into his ear.
Crowley draws him close so their bodies are flush, pressing breathless little kisses into his hair as his hips twitch and jerk, trying not to rut into Aziraphale's hand or it will end all too soon for him.
His strokes are slow and gentle along the length of Aziraphale's cock, though as he cups and fondles his balls, it's with quite a bit of curiosity. Even fully erect as he is, those always stay tucked safely within.
"Aziraphale, you feel incredible," he murmurs, canting his hips, "so soft and warm, I could go on touching you forever."
"Ah--!" he calls, as Crowley's fingers dip lower, and he starts seeing what all the fuss about sex is on. "Well, you never-- never have to stop!" After all, they will be wed soon. And he'd never stop his husband from desiring him.
He hooks one arm around the back of Crowley's neck and draws him into a kiss as his ministrations continue, but his hand is already a trembling mess and they've barely even begun.
And desire Crowley does, absolutely wantonly, if his kiss is anything to go by. He licks hungrily into Aziraphale's mouth, his forked tongue caressing Aziraphale's own as he ruts into his palm.
His own strokes quicken in an erratic rhythm as he explores Aziraphale's handsome prick. He traces each ridge, thumbs over the slit, before wrapping his long, dexterous fingers around the shaft, greedily pumping it.
"I won't - any time you want, love. Anything you want. I'm yours, Aziraphale."
Oh, that forked tongue is somehow so nice but so odd-feeling against his own soft, human one, and he hooks a hand around Crowley's neck and pulls him in closer as if he might be able to study it.
He lets go of Crowley only to situate them back on the bed, pulling him on top and in between his legs.
Crowley gladly defers to Aziraphale's curiosity, letting him inspect his tongue to his hearts content.
This only lasts so long, however, and Crowley finds himself between his Aziraphale's legs and oh, that is a wonderful place to be indeed. He rakes his fingers along plush thighs, and makes a deep sound of satisfaction as he grinds their erections together. Dipping forward, he mouths at Aziraphale's lips, hungry for more kisses.
"Oh, my love," he murmurs, taking them both in hand as he ruts and strokes, "I never want to let you go - "
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inlovewithmycar
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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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"I had no idea humans had hair going all the way down," he remarks, utterly charmed as he twirls a finger amid the curls of pubic hair. "Every inch of you is just so lovely."
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He runs his own hand tentatively along the length of Aziraphale's erection, tracing the vein and ridges with the tips of his fingers, thumbing curiously at the slit.
"How about this? Is it alright?"
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His breath turns into a gasp, as his strokes against Crowley grow in speed, and he leans in and groans softly into his ear.
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His strokes are slow and gentle along the length of Aziraphale's cock, though as he cups and fondles his balls, it's with quite a bit of curiosity. Even fully erect as he is, those always stay tucked safely within.
"Aziraphale, you feel incredible," he murmurs, canting his hips, "so soft and warm, I could go on touching you forever."
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He hooks one arm around the back of Crowley's neck and draws him into a kiss as his ministrations continue, but his hand is already a trembling mess and they've barely even begun.
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His own strokes quicken in an erratic rhythm as he explores Aziraphale's handsome prick. He traces each ridge, thumbs over the slit, before wrapping his long, dexterous fingers around the shaft, greedily pumping it.
"I won't - any time you want, love. Anything you want. I'm yours, Aziraphale."
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He lets go of Crowley only to situate them back on the bed, pulling him on top and in between his legs.
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This only lasts so long, however, and Crowley finds himself between his Aziraphale's legs and oh, that is a wonderful place to be indeed. He rakes his fingers along plush thighs, and makes a deep sound of satisfaction as he grinds their erections together. Dipping forward, he mouths at Aziraphale's lips, hungry for more kisses.
"Oh, my love," he murmurs, taking them both in hand as he ruts and strokes, "I never want to let you go - "
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