"Wasn't it?" he asks, the silly grin returning. His hands drift to Crowley's back: one warm on the nape of his neck; one moving to trace lightly up his spine, then all the way down again.
He swallows against Crowley's lips on his neck. His own breathing is not quite steady, either.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-27 07:55 am (UTC)He swallows against Crowley's lips on his neck. His own breathing is not quite steady, either.