[ The request to bear it silences Crowley, renders his reactions nothing more than hisses of discomfort here and there. He's tolerating well, because he's been asked to do so gently. It works wonders for compliance, much better than anything else.
As does the touch to his hair.
He melts into Aziraphale, craving the comfort -- one hand dropping from where it gripped at him to loosely slide around his waist. ]
I'll be fine, angel. You taped me up good and proper.
[ His face buries into Aziraphale's clothing a moment, half-muffling his words. It feels... nice. It feels nice. ]
no subject
As does the touch to his hair.
He melts into Aziraphale, craving the comfort -- one hand dropping from where it gripped at him to loosely slide around his waist. ]
I'll be fine, angel. You taped me up good and proper.
[ His face buries into Aziraphale's clothing a moment, half-muffling his words. It feels... nice. It feels nice. ]