I Forgive You

Chapter Ten

Reference to "Invisible String" by, do I even need to say it, Taylor Swift

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"You're so beautiful."

This time, Crowley didn't pull away.

He just kept staring into Aziraphale's eyes, the air prickling with tension between them, growing as the seconds ticked by.

They had always been magnetic to him, Crowley's eyes. In their early years, Aziraphale had told himself it was simple curiosity that had him drawn in by their golden stare, later he could admit that it was simply Crowley and his golden heart behind those eyes that had Aziraphale caught in their gravitational pull.

Crowley's eyes had always been extraordinarily expressive, and perhaps that was why the demon preferred to keep them hidden most of the time, even to Aziraphale. The glasses were Crowley's defence as the flaming sword had been Aziraphale's, they were his armour and protection, his security and comfort, like Aziraphale's familiar well-worn waistcoat and welcoming book pages.

A reliable shield against the world to guard his heart.

But there were no glasses now.

Nothing to obscure Aziraphale's view from those eyes and the emotion within them. Something was raging in their depths, something profound and intense, but Aziraphale didn't shy away from it. Quite on the contrary. It made him want to drown in Crowley's eyes, to dive in and be swept away in the current of feelings they were holding.

He couldn't tear his own eyes away, hardly dared to blink for fear he might miss even the tiniest shift in Crowley's expression.

Aziraphale felt himself leaning closer, pulled in by that nameless power - and wasn't that just so pretty to think? That all along there was some invisible string, tying them together, their lives connected, paths intertwined like their fingers now resting on the bed between them.

His gaze finally ripped away from Crowley's for a second only, to glance down at the demon's lips, slightly parted so very invitingly, and the angel was just considering if it would be a terrible reach to lean in and see if Crowley would be amenable to another one of those fabulous kisses, his tongue darting out to wet his own lips - when the demon was suddenly on him with such unexpected fervour that Aziraphale nearly toppled backwards on the bed.

Crowley's mouth was pressing against his, more insistent than their first kiss had been, spiked with a new sort of hunger and desperation, and Aziraphale was indescribably on board with that.

He found his balance, leaning back into the probing of Crowley's mouth against his, hands finding their way around the demon's shoulders and up into his hair. Crowley made a sound like a hissed moan against Aziraphale's lips when he tangled his fingers in the flaming red strands and gave a slight tug, and yes, Aziraphale wanted to hear that again and again for the rest of his life.

Without thinking, he leaned back against the headboard, pulling Crowley along who followed without ever separating the seal of their lips, and suddenly he was sitting with his legs stretched out on the bed, and Crowley was climbing over them, climbing into his lap and oh good Lord-

Aziraphale's breath hitched at the sensation of Crowley's jeans-clad thighs settling on top of his own, the demon's back arching beautifully against him, long fingers flexing where they were digging into Aziraphale's shoulder, and it was all so much and not nearly enough.

His hands trembled as he dared to let them settle gently on Crowley's hips, those blessed slinky hips his fingers had itched to grab and hold onto every time Crowley sauntered down the streets of London, swaying them in the most enticing way, and now they were covered by Aziraphale's hands, and Crowley was pressing closer to him and holding onto his back and kissing his lips-