Do not mistake temptation for opportunity (in bed.)
Taki/Goh = finished.
Corb's and my hair = red and smelling oddly of chai.
Fave apartment prospect in immediate area = found.
Hughes/Mustang = started.
Gerard et Jacques = acquired in book form.
Descartes short story = played with.
I feel remarkably productive for someone who didn't work out or go to her meeting today. But that might just be the chinese food talking. And it's so cool to be able to hold the pretty of G et J in my hands after reading it off of the computer screen. I flipped through it discreetly at the B&N, as it's rather too risquee to be openly pawing over in public. Plus, marilla82 left the apartment to go to Publix and Blockbuster and went OUT OF HER WAY to bring me fountain soda from Chic-Fil-A. Aside from the fact that she's feeding my terrible addictions, she is the LARGEST AMOUNT OF LOVE ON THE PLANET. All other love gravitates to her, seriously.
Oi! Bibliophiles! (Which is most of you.) redpiratemel has a poll she'd like people to fill out. Though I suspect she's just doing it to collect library smut. ;) Please to be going here and doing that. And I wrote Good Omens book smut, because it's been awhile, and linnpuzzle was right, the fandom is slowly collapsing like a flan in a cupboard.
ETA- 'Collapsing like a flan in a cupboard' being my words, not hers. And those being based off of an Eddie Izzard quote and probably entirely blowing the thing out of proportion. *head desk* I swear to god, I win with my big mouth.
The angel was horrified. Crowley only smirked and looked at Aziraphale over the tops of his glasses, watching the angel's facial expressions vascilate between delight and agony. It was almost as much fun as driving slow in the passing lane.
"Aa-, aaahh!" The angel shifted, trying to back away from the hand in his trousers, but only succeeding in bumping into one of the shelves of Bibles and making it shake ominously. "We're going to be smited," he whispered.
"You'd better make thisss worth it then," Crowley hissed, and pulled his hand away, only to use it to undo Aziraphale's trousers altogether and push them halfway down his thighs. "Off!" he commanded, and Aziraphale thought he understood what the house plants must feel like.
"B-but, someone could, it's a shop and, the window," he squeaked, but pushed his trousers down the rest of the way and stepped out of them all the same. He SHOULD be thwarting this, he knew, but there were parts of The Arrangement that were for both of their benefits, even if they seemed to be one sided.
Crowley worked his own, tighter and more leather, trousers down his thighs and then wrapped his hands around Aziraphales waist. The angel gasped as he was lifted into the air just high enough so that his lower back rested against the edge of the fourth shelf up, his left and right shoulder blades pushing into the Gutenberg and Gaelic Monastic Bibles respectively.
"The books!" Aziraphale pleaded one last time, as Crowley shifted forward and lowered the angel's body, pushing inside of him, making coherent speech all but impossible.
Push.
"You were saying angel?"
Push.
Aziraphale bit his lip and let his head fall backwards.
Push.
Crowley lowered his face into Aziraphale's neck and sucked lightly on the taught muscle exposed by the motion. Aziraphale squirmed some, which completely undid all of Crowley's practiced cool and caused him to moan, his breath tickling the skin on Aziraphale's shoulder. Crowley leaned into Aziraphale, pushing him further into the books and causing the shelf to rock slightly in time with his thrusts.
Push.
The book Aziraphale had been trying to catalogue when Crowley ambushed him with a hand his trousers shifted forward.
Push.
The book leaned over the edge and appeared to be eyeing the action below it and deciding whether or not it liked the view.
Push.
The book decided to make it's escape and leapt off of it's ledge, bouncing off of Crowley's head before finally hitting the floor.
"Goddamnit!" Crowley cursed, and gave one final, rough thrust into the angel.
"Oh dear," Aziraphale whimpered. Partially because of the demon's mouth and partially because he had just ejaculated all over his shirt.
Crowley's head hurt. And accompanied with the warm feeling that was working it's way through his body after having finished inside of the angel, his knees gave out. This left the angel, the demon, and the self-liberated text in a messy pile on the floor. If the book could have, it would have groaned.
Despite having ended up on the ground the angel looked satisfied, and Crowley could only commend himself on a job well done as he slowly pulled out of Azirapahle. Until of course, the angel reached to see just what it was that was poking him uncomfortably in his lower back.
"Tch!" He was so horrified his mouth refused to work. There was his latest acquisition, damp with sweat and sitting on the dirty floor.
Crowley grabbed the book out of Aziraphale's hands and tossed it across the room, which only made the angel struggle to get away and retrieve it. His precious, precious book! Crowley lowered Aziraphale onto his back on the floor of the shop and leaned over him. He kissed the angel, running his tongue over the divine lips and teeth before trailing it down Aziraphale's body, undoing each shirt button and lapping up sweat and semen along the way.
Aziraphale sighed and gave up the struggle. Crowley grinned into the pale blonde hair on the angel's lower abdomen and wished he wouldn't get discorporated for reporting this, because even that bloody Ligur couldn't have come up with a better temptation.
...
So it's 2:15, except it's really 3:15, because the world is gayer than that drabble. *sigh* I don't want to lose an hour, and I don't want to be at Disney tomorrow. *emo tear* Hope your day is remarkably better.
Corb's and my hair = red and smelling oddly of chai.
Fave apartment prospect in immediate area = found.
Hughes/Mustang = started.
Gerard et Jacques = acquired in book form.
Descartes short story = played with.
I feel remarkably productive for someone who didn't work out or go to her meeting today. But that might just be the chinese food talking. And it's so cool to be able to hold the pretty of G et J in my hands after reading it off of the computer screen. I flipped through it discreetly at the B&N, as it's rather too risquee to be openly pawing over in public. Plus, marilla82 left the apartment to go to Publix and Blockbuster and went OUT OF HER WAY to bring me fountain soda from Chic-Fil-A. Aside from the fact that she's feeding my terrible addictions, she is the LARGEST AMOUNT OF LOVE ON THE PLANET. All other love gravitates to her, seriously.
Oi! Bibliophiles! (Which is most of you.) redpiratemel has a poll she'd like people to fill out. Though I suspect she's just doing it to collect library smut. ;) Please to be going here and doing that. And I wrote Good Omens book smut, because it's been awhile, and linnpuzzle was right, the fandom is slowly collapsing like a flan in a cupboard.
ETA- 'Collapsing like a flan in a cupboard' being my words, not hers. And those being based off of an Eddie Izzard quote and probably entirely blowing the thing out of proportion. *head desk* I swear to god, I win with my big mouth.
The angel was horrified. Crowley only smirked and looked at Aziraphale over the tops of his glasses, watching the angel's facial expressions vascilate between delight and agony. It was almost as much fun as driving slow in the passing lane.
"Aa-, aaahh!" The angel shifted, trying to back away from the hand in his trousers, but only succeeding in bumping into one of the shelves of Bibles and making it shake ominously. "We're going to be smited," he whispered.
"You'd better make thisss worth it then," Crowley hissed, and pulled his hand away, only to use it to undo Aziraphale's trousers altogether and push them halfway down his thighs. "Off!" he commanded, and Aziraphale thought he understood what the house plants must feel like.
"B-but, someone could, it's a shop and, the window," he squeaked, but pushed his trousers down the rest of the way and stepped out of them all the same. He SHOULD be thwarting this, he knew, but there were parts of The Arrangement that were for both of their benefits, even if they seemed to be one sided.
Crowley worked his own, tighter and more leather, trousers down his thighs and then wrapped his hands around Aziraphales waist. The angel gasped as he was lifted into the air just high enough so that his lower back rested against the edge of the fourth shelf up, his left and right shoulder blades pushing into the Gutenberg and Gaelic Monastic Bibles respectively.
"The books!" Aziraphale pleaded one last time, as Crowley shifted forward and lowered the angel's body, pushing inside of him, making coherent speech all but impossible.
Push.
"You were saying angel?"
Push.
Aziraphale bit his lip and let his head fall backwards.
Push.
Crowley lowered his face into Aziraphale's neck and sucked lightly on the taught muscle exposed by the motion. Aziraphale squirmed some, which completely undid all of Crowley's practiced cool and caused him to moan, his breath tickling the skin on Aziraphale's shoulder. Crowley leaned into Aziraphale, pushing him further into the books and causing the shelf to rock slightly in time with his thrusts.
Push.
The book Aziraphale had been trying to catalogue when Crowley ambushed him with a hand his trousers shifted forward.
Push.
The book leaned over the edge and appeared to be eyeing the action below it and deciding whether or not it liked the view.
Push.
The book decided to make it's escape and leapt off of it's ledge, bouncing off of Crowley's head before finally hitting the floor.
"Goddamnit!" Crowley cursed, and gave one final, rough thrust into the angel.
"Oh dear," Aziraphale whimpered. Partially because of the demon's mouth and partially because he had just ejaculated all over his shirt.
Crowley's head hurt. And accompanied with the warm feeling that was working it's way through his body after having finished inside of the angel, his knees gave out. This left the angel, the demon, and the self-liberated text in a messy pile on the floor. If the book could have, it would have groaned.
Despite having ended up on the ground the angel looked satisfied, and Crowley could only commend himself on a job well done as he slowly pulled out of Azirapahle. Until of course, the angel reached to see just what it was that was poking him uncomfortably in his lower back.
"Tch!" He was so horrified his mouth refused to work. There was his latest acquisition, damp with sweat and sitting on the dirty floor.
Crowley grabbed the book out of Aziraphale's hands and tossed it across the room, which only made the angel struggle to get away and retrieve it. His precious, precious book! Crowley lowered Aziraphale onto his back on the floor of the shop and leaned over him. He kissed the angel, running his tongue over the divine lips and teeth before trailing it down Aziraphale's body, undoing each shirt button and lapping up sweat and semen along the way.
Aziraphale sighed and gave up the struggle. Crowley grinned into the pale blonde hair on the angel's lower abdomen and wished he wouldn't get discorporated for reporting this, because even that bloody Ligur couldn't have come up with a better temptation.
...
So it's 2:15, except it's really 3:15, because the world is gayer than that drabble. *sigh* I don't want to lose an hour, and I don't want to be at Disney tomorrow. *emo tear* Hope your day is remarkably better.