It's not a whine in Crowley's throat, because it's not high-pitched or urgent enough for that. But then, it's neither guttural nor loud enough to quite be a moan, either. It's just a sound - the purest sort of sound, the kind you get when there's no words to filter it through or even a name to call it by.
(Like a bowstring plucked to make it, Crowley's back arches gently up off the bed.)
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-22 05:15 am (UTC)(Like a bowstring plucked to make it, Crowley's back arches gently up off the bed.)