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    Summary

    Aziraphale nodded, and said, sweetly, “After dinner, Crowley, you and I, we’re going up to a private, luxury suite, and we’re going to make love.”

    Crowley blasted red wine across the table in a fine spray.

    (A fic in which Crowley and Aziraphale get a wiggle on, in the Biblical sense.)

    Language:
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