Alecto_the_implacable
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Summary
“Which one’s your favourite?”
“My favourite what?” Aziraphale asks blankly.
“The books.” Crowley nods at another stack. “Which one’s your favourite?”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,102
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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- 0
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Summary
Alhaitham finally looks up from his book, meeting Kaveh’s eyes for the briefest of moments before looking everywhere but. Kaveh’s learned not to take that personally. “Your sex life is that bad, then?”
“My sex life,” Kaveh snarls, burning from his hairline to his throat, “is none of your business.”
“I see,” Alhaitham replies, which has nothing to do with Kaveh’s sex life being his business and everything to do with the fact that Kaveh has just confirmed Alhaitham’s suspicions.
When Tighnari lends Kaveh a spicy book, Alhaitham puts its teachings into practice. On Kaveh.
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“I’m making a list,” Aziraphale said, sinking his fingers in again as he reached up to smear a kiss across Crowley’s mouth. “Checking it twice.”
Crowley made a noise that would have been a whine, should he ever admit to such a noise, and shoved his hips down, trying to shove himself onto Aziraphale’s hand. “I promised,” he reminded Aziraphale.
Aziraphale ignored him, kissing down Crowley’s thin chest, sucking a mark just below his collarbone. “I’m going to find out if you’ve been naughty or nice.”
Series
- Part 5 of A Very Filthy Advent Calendar
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Sigewinne crosses the room and, with a dramatic flourish, rips the prescription from her pad, and slaps it against his chest. “Once a day for the next week will suffice, though more doses certainly won’t kill you.”
Wriothesley looks and immediately regrets it, his face turning bright red. “Sigewinne.”
One heaping dose of Monsieur Neuvillette, daily, says the prescription. Apply physically, as needed.
A very tired Wriothesley retires at the end of the day and rests his face on Neuvillette's lap.
Series
- Part 18 of by the strange pull
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Summary
Aziraphale doesn’t say it. He doesn’t need to. Crowley reads it in the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, in the dip of his chin when he smiles. It's in the brush of his thumb over the back of Crowley’s hand, a morse code signal only Crowley could interpret.