The not-so-gentle scrape of Aziraphael's hands back - back through his feathers gets a one-two-three of short, sharp gasps into the bedclothes, but that -
(It feels like Aziraphael's breath, Aziraphael's warm and soft breath is curling down every fibre in his shoulder, and every short, delicate feather near the base of Crowley's wing stands up - )
That was loud.
I can't, Crowley thinks. It's a litany; I can't, I can't -
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-31 06:10 pm (UTC)The not-so-gentle scrape of Aziraphael's hands back - back through his feathers gets a one-two-three of short, sharp gasps into the bedclothes, but that -
(It feels like Aziraphael's breath, Aziraphael's warm and soft breath is curling down every fibre in his shoulder, and every short, delicate feather near the base of Crowley's wing stands up - )
That was loud.
I can't, Crowley thinks. It's a litany; I can't, I can't -