Plot_smut_CaligaSolus
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Summary
What’s a few orgasms between hereditary enemies? It’s not the end of the world, right? Right?
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Crowley stared at his whiskey, and refused to acknowledge that this moment would ever end, and didn’t think about just how close Aziraphale was, how he could almost feel the heat of him on the whole right side of his body, didn’t think about what it would be like to touch him again—Aziraphale shifted on his stool, and now his thigh was pressed up against Crowley’s. Crowley drew in a sharp breath, surprised, but Aziraphale kept looking straight ahead.
He probably hadn’t noticed he was doing it, Crowley reasoned with himself. Get your head out your arse, you demonic fantasist, and —