Aziraphale was not actually completely dense, even if a bit clueless when it came to this kind of thing. But the disconnect here was that it would not even begin to occur to Aziraphale that Crowley was talking about feelings. After all, whenever Aziraphale spoke of his fondness for love in humans, Crowley made faces or changed the subject. So of course Crowley meant lust, when he kissed him, when he spoke of wanting him. Which, while within the realm of possibility, was a bit baffling to Aziraphale. Unless, of course, the joy was in tempting him. And in succeeding. And this was what made Aziraphale twist all up in knots.
Because of course he wanted Crowley, too. And it wasn't just his feelings - because of course he had those - but it was lust, too. This was something that Aziraphale felt, and then felt guilty for. But he had dreams so real they felt like memories. Dreams about Crowley, about his hands and his skin, and oh.
He decided then that, selfishly, he would take advantage of Crowley wanting him - whether it was his own lust or whether it was the desire to spark it in Aziraphale. Either way, it put their desires in perfect alignment. Except -
"I - I think kissing is all right," Aziraphale said softly. "But I don't want to think beyond that, okay?"
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Aziraphale was not actually completely dense, even if a bit clueless when it came to this kind of thing. But the disconnect here was that it would not even begin to occur to Aziraphale that Crowley was talking about feelings. After all, whenever Aziraphale spoke of his fondness for love in humans, Crowley made faces or changed the subject. So of course Crowley meant lust, when he kissed him, when he spoke of wanting him. Which, while within the realm of possibility, was a bit baffling to Aziraphale. Unless, of course, the joy was in tempting him. And in succeeding. And this was what made Aziraphale twist all up in knots.
Because of course he wanted Crowley, too. And it wasn't just his feelings - because of course he had those - but it was lust, too. This was something that Aziraphale felt, and then felt guilty for. But he had dreams so real they felt like memories. Dreams about Crowley, about his hands and his skin, and oh.
He decided then that, selfishly, he would take advantage of Crowley wanting him - whether it was his own lust or whether it was the desire to spark it in Aziraphale. Either way, it put their desires in perfect alignment. Except -
"I - I think kissing is all right," Aziraphale said softly. "But I don't want to think beyond that, okay?"