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    Summary

    Aziraphale overhears Crowley using his tempting voice for his work, and decides he needs to hear more of it…

    “You enjoy it, do you? What sort of things would you enjoy hearing me say like this?”

    “A…a…almost anything,” Aziraphale stammered. “Anything at all, anything you like.”

    “Want me to read you the bus timetable like this then? The football results, maybe? A recipe for custard tarts, perhaps?” - all delivered in that same, syrupy tone that made Aziraphale suddenly realise that making an Effort that day might have been a grave mistake. He crossed his legs.

    Crowley lounged back with an easy smile. “Anything you want, say the word, it’s yours.”

    As if Aziraphale didn’t know that already.
    - - - - - - - - - -

    When a little light poetry reading leads to something substantially more. Illustrations by Yvesriba, Alice Rovai, and Miele_Petite.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    6,094
    Chapters:
    3/3
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