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Summary
What will it feel like?” asks Aziraphale. He knows he’s doing things out of order - agree first, ask questions later. “I mean, I find you tempting enough as is, but this isn’t like a Temptation, is it?”
“No,” agrees Crowley. He unfurls his hand and his nails grow, sharpen into claws. The change is not forced, but instead a release, the untying of a knot, the undoing of a clasp holding back pressure. He glances at Aziraphale, and the shadow of his wing falls over his eyes for a moment, setting them aglow in a starker gold. “I won’t be Tempting you. This is just succumbing. Indulgence. You’re already quite familiar with it, Angel. It’ll be like falling into a pool. It’ll feel like you’re drowning, and you’ll still want to put your head down and drive deeper.”