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The warm rays of the sun filtered through the shutters of the cottage, bathing their entwined, sleeping bodies in gentle warmth. In the tangle of sheets, Aziraphale rolled onto his side, keeping his eyes closed, and his lips sought Crowley's.
First, his lips brushed Crowley's cheek, eliciting a sleepy chuckle from the demon. Taking pity on him, Crowley's lips came to meet his in a soft, blind, hesitant brush.
Then, still with their eyes closed, they finally found perfect alignment and hummed with pleasure in the kiss that quickly intensified. Their lips pressed against each other in a soft, tender caress that lingered as they both thoroughly relished the moment.
When they parted, Aziraphale whispered against Crowley's lips, "Good morning, my love."
Crowley responded with a growl, his eyes still closed, and buried his face in Aziraphale's neck.
"Mmm, good morning."
He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him close, then rested his head on his chest.
The angel said almost reluctantly, "We should get up, my dear. Judging by how high the sun is in the sky, it's high time for breakfast."
Crowley's response was immediate and, at first, physical. He tightened his arms around the angel's waist and buried his face in his chest.
"I don't want to get up, angel. You're comfy."
Aziraphale frowned and, with a hint of amusement in his voice, asked, "Comfy? You mean I'm fluffy, like a big pillow?"
Crowley, his eyes still closed, nodded against the angel's chest. "Mmm, yes. Fluffy. I love it."
His husky voice, tinged with deep affection, made the angel blush slightly.
Crowley continued, opening his eyes. "You're soft and fluffy all over."
The demon began showing Aziraphale just how much he liked that. His hands slowly and gently explored the angel's body as if savoring every inch of skin. His lips followed the same path as his hands, showering kisses on the curve of the angel's shoulders, along his arms, then on his chest and the slight curve of his stomach. With soft humming sounds, Crowley expressed his adoration every time he pressed his lips against the angel's skin.
Aziraphale closed his eyes again, his breathing quickening slightly as Crowley worshiped his body. As always, he felt treasured, cherished, and loved by the demon. Every touch and kiss reminded him of the depth of Crowley's feelings for him. And reminded him of the depth of his own feelings for Crowley.
Their lovemaking was slow and tender—a languid dance between two people intimately familiar with each other's desires. As they moved together, their bodies swayed in perfect harmony, following the rhythm of their hearts.
Much later, when they had finally calmed down, they lay entwined and slightly breathless. Aziraphale said in a hoarse voice, "We've definitely missed breakfast."
Crowley replied with a small chuckle, burying his face in Aziraphale's neck. "It doesn't matter. I'm full. I just devoured some delicious, fluffy, sweet cotton candy."
Aziraphale shook his head.
"Cheesy idiot."
"You love it, Angel! Admit it!"
Aziraphale didn't have the strength to deny it. He leaned over and whispered to the demon, "It's you I love."
He pressed his lips against Crowley's, silencing his lover with a kiss that delayed their breakfast once again.