"That's--" Crowley stops, not sure how to finish that statement. It's baffling, is what it is, though he supposes women throughout history (and occasionally men) have had to go to stranger lengths in the name of fashion. In any case, it's not at all an unattractive look on Aziraphale, wet muslin clinging to his unfamiliar curves. He's just as glad to divest him of it, and take in the shape of him, hands shaping over the angel's waist and rounded hips. He's always been just that bit portly and plump, thick around the middle, with thighs that make Crowley's mouth water. Oh--he has no idea, his angel does, Crowley thinks as he drags him close, burying his face in his curls. Perhaps he'll get to explore the more familiar shape of him soon, though in the meantime he'll enjoy every inch of this feminine figure he can get his hands and mouth on.
He almost steps back, though, when Aziraphale tells him he's beautiful, pressed against him and tugging at his shirt again like the ravishing little minx he is. Crowley swallows and forces himself to be still, letting Aziraphale undress him as he pleases. "I'm not," he says entirely by habit, his voice catching slightly. Demons aren't meant to be beautiful, everyone knows. Oozy cold creatures, most of them, though Crowley's skin at the moment is hot, flushed, even, as though with fever, everywhere Aziraphale's fingers brush. Crowley's own fingers tangle in his hair: he can almost, almost sense the desire in Aziraphale to bury his face against his chest, and he longs so badly to feel Aziraphale's lips brushing his skin.
He does kiss Crowley's chest, and down a little further as he undoes more buttons. "But you are," he responds earnestly, in a voice that suggests that he's not taking no for an answer. He smiles against Crowley's skin, and he leans into the warmth as his dress and the sweat from their previous activities have made him quite cold. "So gorgeous, so impossible to overlook."
He gets to the rest of Crowley's shirt and places his arms around his waist, getting the whole of his cold front and pressing up against Crowley's. He pulls Crowley forward as he walks back, and lands into the bed with a whumph against the soft mattress. He feels his legs wrap thickly around Crowley's thin hips to accommodate for the two of them in the same space and his eyes roll back as they make contact, as the full weight of Crowley lands on him. "Dear," he breathes out. "You're so devastatingly beautiful that it's quite unfair."
He pulls the shirt and jacket off of Crowley in one go, and tosses it to the side, which is quite unusual for him, to care so little for clothes. But it's all worth it, getting his hands into Crowley's feathers, onto his back, finally getting him totally in the nude.
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He almost steps back, though, when Aziraphale tells him he's beautiful, pressed against him and tugging at his shirt again like the ravishing little minx he is. Crowley swallows and forces himself to be still, letting Aziraphale undress him as he pleases. "I'm not," he says entirely by habit, his voice catching slightly. Demons aren't meant to be beautiful, everyone knows. Oozy cold creatures, most of them, though Crowley's skin at the moment is hot, flushed, even, as though with fever, everywhere Aziraphale's fingers brush. Crowley's own fingers tangle in his hair: he can almost, almost sense the desire in Aziraphale to bury his face against his chest, and he longs so badly to feel Aziraphale's lips brushing his skin.
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He gets to the rest of Crowley's shirt and places his arms around his waist, getting the whole of his cold front and pressing up against Crowley's. He pulls Crowley forward as he walks back, and lands into the bed with a whumph against the soft mattress. He feels his legs wrap thickly around Crowley's thin hips to accommodate for the two of them in the same space and his eyes roll back as they make contact, as the full weight of Crowley lands on him. "Dear," he breathes out. "You're so devastatingly beautiful that it's quite unfair."
He pulls the shirt and jacket off of Crowley in one go, and tosses it to the side, which is quite unusual for him, to care so little for clothes. But it's all worth it, getting his hands into Crowley's feathers, onto his back, finally getting him totally in the nude.