It feels like this has been building up in him for days; Crowley's voice, the movements of his hand, that - that - motion in the wrist. It pulls pleasure out of some core within until it's rolling through him in waves, powerful as a hurricane. Aziraphael comes with an insensible cry, squeezing Crowley's hand as though it's the only thing anchoring him to the world.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-30 06:18 am (UTC)