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Summary
Gabriel grabs both of Crowley's wrists. It takes him a few tries—at least Crowley can say that much for his own self-defense skills—before he forces them back onto the bed. He holds them on either side of Crowley’s head, breathing on Crowley’s face, his deep violet eyes raking over Crowley's own. He licks his lips, the upper, the lower.
And then suddenly, he lets go.
“That’s right,” Gabriel says, the words softly thunderous. “Hit me again.”