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Summary
"Patience," he practically coos. Crowley refuses to cry. "You, my dearest, are a scrumptious meal and it would be a shame if I don't--" he leans over, kisses him hard, tongue pushing in. Crowley sucks his tongue, wanting to eat up his words. Aziraphale pulls back, gives Crowley a dangerous sort of smile.
"Excuse me. If I don't savor it." He punctuates his sentence by nosing along Crowley's jaw
