Archive of Our Own ^beta

Crowley was stuck on the M25. Again. She hovered a snakeskin boot over the accelerator of her 1960 Bentley S2 Continental. It was late spring in London and the first nice day in ages, so she had put the top down in hopes that absorbing some vitamin D would improve her foul mood. It wasn’t working. She let herself fall into a brief fantasy of setting the whole motorway on fire. The Dragon Red coupe would plow through the bumper-to-bumper traffic in a blaze of glory while she laughed maniacally. Azira would be furious–no, not furious– disappointed in that adorably pouty manner of hers, to know that Crowley was indulging in such destructive fantasies. But Azira wasn’t here. Azira was home working on her novel, probably enticingly fragrant and soft in her fluffy beige dressing gown. And here was Crowley, imprisoned in traffic after an absolutely atrocious day at her soul-sapping job, writing legal briefs in support of some faceless and ignoble corporation who had hired her to make their evil deeds legal. Not for the first time, she thought of leaving the world of corporate law behind. She could retire early and whisk Azira off to the South Downs, where they could buy a little cottage in Arundel and make love amongst the rose bushes. No, the clover—it would probably be more comfortable than the rose bushes.

The rest of her commute felt interminable, yet she somehow managed to endure it without resorting to arson or breaking any important traffic laws. She pulled into the spot behind their flat, raised the roof on the Bentley and affectionately caressed the dash. “Good girl,” she said. “Promise to take you out to the country and really open you up one of these weekends.” The Bentley, in Crowley’s opinion, performed better when she could whip her around some country lanes at top speed now and then. She tipped her head back and ran a hand through her hair. Her work laptop lay on the backseat, its buttery leather case belying the horrors within. She was counting on Azira being too distracted to notice she’d brought work home. She planned to stash the laptop in her study so she could sneak out of bed and log into her email after Azira had fallen asleep. The thought of leaving her plush marital bed while her warm, delicious wife slept filled her with dread, but filing deadlines wait for no woman. 

With a groan, she reached into the backseat and grabbed the laptop bag. As she did, a delicate pink envelope slipped out of the front pocket and onto the floor. Crowley grunted as she leaned awkwardly over the driver’s seat to pick it up. “ Beloved,” it said on the front in Azira’s baroque script. Crowley smiled for the first time that day. She tore the envelope open carefully. A whiff of Azira’s bright and musky Bergamote 22 wafted from the cream-coloured paper inside. She unfolded the note reverently. The contents were brief and to the point:

Darling,

You’ve been working so hard lately; you deserve a respite. I’ll be waiting for you when you come home tonight with something sweet.

X,

A

Crowley held the note to her chest and let gravity drag her hand to her belly, the fragrant paper still in her grasp. She let out a quiet whimper, then glanced back at her laptop case and gave it a rude gesture. Leaving it on the seat, she tucked the note into her bra and climbed out of the Bentley.

Crowley thanked Someone that no one was in the lift to see the anticipatory flush on her cheeks and chest. When the lift finally reached their penthouse flat, she bolted from it at a speed that would have been embarrassing if there were anyone there to witness it. She fumbled her keyfob from her jacket pocket and let out a loud breath when the lock lit up green and she swung the door open. The scene that greeted her made the preceding horrendous day melt away. 

“Hello, love.” Azira was stretched languorously on the plush rug in their sitting room, her bare, rosy skin a stark contrast to the deep blue wool. Her pale curls were spread against the blood-red velvet pillow she’d pulled from the sofa. She lifted her hips just slightly off the floor, almost imperceptibly, her body awakening from idleness. She rolled over, propped her head onto her left arm, and gave Crowley an appraising look, one finger to her lips. Before her, level with her full breasts, was a decadent slice of devil’s food cake slathered in lush chocolate icing. 

Crowley charged forward in a single-minded haze, stopping the instant Azira tsked. “Boots off, darling,” she said. Crowley groaned and fumbled them off, thrusting them onto the shoe rack in the foyer. She whipped off her socks for good measure and left them in the entryway, earning her a fond eye roll from Azira. She stalked forward, bare feet sinking into the high pile of the rug, and stood over her wife. 

“Is that for me?” she asked, nodding at the cake while pulling the envelope out of her bra and waving it at Azira.

“Oh, good, you got my note.” Azira smiled slyly and rolled over onto her back. She arched a bit, like a satisfied cat, bringing one hand up to cup the side of a breast. With the other, she dipped a peachy-nailed finger into the icing and brought it to her mouth. 

“It’s all for you,” she said and popped her finger into her mouth, staring into Crowley’s eyes as she drew it out slowly, the pink tip of her tongue darting out to lick her finger clean. Crowley hummed and knelt next to her, tossing the note onto the sofa. She leaned carefully over Azira so as not to put a palm or knee down into the cake. Crowley kissed her, taking a moment to savor the taste of chocolate on her lips before slipping her tongue into the seam of them. Azira opened for her as she always did, ever eager to take Crowley into her indulgent mouth. The hand that had been on her breast slid around Crowley’s back, pulling her closer. Azira sighed as Crowley melted into her, their kiss deepening, becoming lewd and sloppy. Crowley slid over Azira’s body, putting a knee between her thighs, not sparing a single thought about what her wife’s dripping cunt might be doing to her cashmere trousers. Azira bucked her hips, giving one slow grind to Crowley’s knee, before gently pushing her back. Crowley propped herself up with a pout and looked down at Azira’s smug face. 

“Eager are we?” Azira asked, cupping Crowley’s chin.

“Angel, I had a beast of a day. You’re the only thing keeping me from burning it all down right now.” She leaned down to nibble at Azira’s neck. Azira giggled and pushed her away again, more firmly this time.

“We have all evening, my dear,” she said, lips curling into a devious smile, “and I plan to distract you from your terrible day the entire time.”

“All right, then,” Crowley capitulated. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, as you’ll recall,” Azira traced a finger down Crowley’s chest, past the open neckline of her shirt, catching it on the cup of her bra where the note had been stashed, “I promised you something sweet.”

“The cake?” Crowley said, quirking an eyebrow, “It’s very nice, or at least what I tasted on you was nice. But not nearly as delicious as you are.” She made to lean down again, but Azira booped her nose. Crowley snorted and scrunched up her face  in protest. 

“Well, then,” Azira said, slowly drawing her finger through the icing again, “this will be twice as nice.” She trailed her finger down her own neck, leaving a path of chocolate in its wake. Crowley chuckled, finally understanding the game. She leant down and followed the trail of icing with her tongue. Azira shivered and squirmed beneath her. Azira’s neck was so sensitive. Crowley finished the lick with a little nip just below her jaw. Azira gasped and bucked underneath her, grinding against Crowley’s thigh.

“That won’t do,” Azira was breathing hard. “I want to make this last.” With a burst of strength, she rolled them over so that Crowley was on her back with Azira kneeling over her. Somehow, she’d managed to get the pillow under Crowley’s head while she was at it. Crowley’s hummed appreciatively as her eyes rolled back. They’d been together for years now, and she still couldn’t get over the way her sweet, soft wife was able to toss her around like a doll. 

Azira dipped two fingers into the cake in an obviously suggestive manner and scooped up a bit of cake and icing. “Take your top off, darling,” she said. “I’d hate to ruin the silk.”

Crowley sat up and fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. She pulled it open and shrugged it off, tossing it onto the couch, safely out of cake’s way. 

“Bra as well,” Azira said primly. The icing was beginning to melt a bit from the warmth of her fingers. She held it fussily over the plate to prevent it from dripping on the carpet. “And do be quick about it.”

Crowley reached behind her back and popped her bra open. Hastily, she flung it in the general direction of her shirt. With her clean hand, Azira pressed between Crowley’s breasts, encouraging her to lean back again. She went willingly, staring up at her angel with unconcealed lust and adoration. Azira laid her cake-covered fingers over Crowley’s heart, ran them down along the insides of her breasts, and stretched them open, smearing cake along the undersides, the heat of Crowley’s skin melting the icing further. When Azira was satisfied, she licked the remaining chocolate from her fingers, then covered Crowley with her bare body, mouthing over the trail of chocolate. Crowley made helpless noises as Azira licked and sucked at her chest, not missing a morsel. Once she had licked Crowley clean, Azira looked up at her and took a pebbled nipple into her mouth, a move so devastating it almost made Crowley angry.

“Can’t stand you when you do that,” she moaned, arching against Azira’s mouth. Azira released her and pouted, an even more devastating move. “Do what?” she asked.

“Look up at me like that. While you’re doing that. Makes me stupid. All the blood rushes–-” Azira had latched onto her other nipple.

“Is that so?” Azira said, gliding her hand down Crowley’s trembling belly and deftly unbuttoning her trousers. She worked her hand between Crowley’s black boyshorts and her overheated skin, her well-manicured nails scratching gently at the skin beneath the curls on her mons, then sliding between her lips.

“Oh, darling, you’re absolutely drenched,” she said, a smug look on her pretty face.

“Been wet since I read your note,” Crowley admitted, gasping as Azira circled her clit with a gentle, teasing pressure. She squirmed at the lightness of Azira’s touch but when she pressed her hips up to seek more, Azira pulled away, dragging wet fingers back up her mons and her belly. She rose on her knees, stradling one of Crowley’s legs. She leaned over Crowley, reaching for something behind Crowley’s head, her breasts hanging heavy over Crowley’s face, aggravatingly out of reach of her mouth.

“What are you doing, angel?” she asked as Azira pulled something from beneath the couch. 

“Safety first,” she said, holding a packet of unscented baby wipes aloft. She pulled one out and meticulously cleaned the fingers that had been coated in cake. “Would hate to forget myself and give you an infection.”

“Thoughtful,” Crowley said ruefully, her passion dimming slightly at the unexpected interruption. “You’ve really prepared for everything.”

“You’ll thank me later,” Azira said. She pulled out another wipe and set the packet aside. Crowley felt ready to riot, but Azira looked down at her and quirked an eyebrow. 

“Don’t fuss,” she said.

“Wasn’t going to—-”

“You have raging fuss face,” Azira insisted. Crowley huffed. She did not, nor had she ever had, “fuss face”, whatever that was. She held her tongue for the sake of whatever was coming next. Azira held the wipe carefully between her hands for a moment, then bent down and rubbed the warmed wipe over Crowley’s chest, retracing the path her tongue had recently traveled. Crowley relaxed under the warm, wet touch, and—much to her chagrin—felt better once the remaining stickiness had been wiped away. 

“There,” Azira said, placing the dirtied wipes on top of the closed packet. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

“Hmmf,” Crowley said. “Will do, once you’re back on top of me.”

Azira relented, once again covering Crowley’s body with hers; the warmth of it so, so welcome as the damp spots on Crowley’s chest evaporated and cooled. Azira kissed her, a familiar kiss, steeped in their history together, tonguing her lips apart in a way that had been driving Crowley mad since the early days of their relationship. That first kiss had been such a lovely surprise. The revelation that the prissy, buttoned-up, know-it-all from English Lit whom she had been quietly lusting over for a year had kissed with such filthy confidence was better than anything she could have hoped for. Back then, Crowley had been the one to take charge in her relationships, and she had discovered something unexpected in herself as she found it so easiy to succumb to Azira’s lead. 

It was the same now. The fire reignited as Azira writhed on top of her, palming her breasts and smoothing her hands down Crowley’s flank, heading for her open trousers again. 

“Off,” Azira demanded, raising up and rolling off of Crowley so that she could wriggle out of them and toss them aside as she waited for Azira to settle over her again. Azira seemed in no hurry to do so. The stop-and-start was annoying as it was delicious. 

“Mmmm,” Azira said, eyes grazing hungrily over her as if she hadn’t been looking at the same body for nearly fifteen years now. “I think I’d like you to roll over.” 

Crowley had no clue where this was going but did as she was told. The stress of her day was nearly forgotten, the mental load of being In Charge dissolving as she let Azira call the shots.

Once she had rolled onto her belly and folded her arms under the pillow, Azira grabbed her hips firmly and hitched them up, leaving her back arched and her face down. Crowley’s breath caught at being manhandled by her angel again. 

“Yes,” Azira said, still gripping Crowley’s hips and running her thumbs down the sides of her arse. “That’s what I’m hungry for.”

Crowley let out a desperate moan and worked a hand down to grasp at one of her own breasts, rolling a sensitive nipple between her fingers.

“Very good,” Azira said, her voice low. “I do love it when you touch yourself.”

Crowley whimpered and worked her other hand down to pluck at her other nipple so that she was balanced on her elbows, arse in the air, nipples hard enough to cut glass, entirely at her wife’s mercy. Azira took advantage of this by leaning in to nip at the tender skin between Crowley’s arsecheek and her thigh. 

Crowley squeaked as Azira’s tongue soothed the spot she had bitten before travelling along the crease of her cheek, ending tantalisingly close to the throbbing center of her. Crowley arched her back further, grateful that she continued to make time for yoga despite her busy schedule, and pushed her arse out, spreading her legs a bit more to tempt her wife.

Azira chuckled. “You poor thing,” she murmured. “You really needed this, didn’t you?”

“Desperately,” Crowley was not ashamed to croak. 

“Every day you go to that wretched office, and I think, ‘for what?’ We have a juicy little nest egg saved up—” here she grabbed Crowley’s cheek and ghosted a thumb over her vulva, making Crowley shiver—“And my royalties bring in a tidy sum. Why not retire early or get out of the city and open that flower shop you’re always musing about?” Azira punctuated this by rubbing gentle thumbs over Crowley’s outer labia. Crowley let out a half-formed curse, deeply pleased at the way Azira sounded so unaffected while she herself was dying for a firmer touch. In her mind’s eye, she saw them from above, her back in an obscene arch, scrabbling at her own tits, Azira dispassionately toying with her dripping cunt. Crowley’s hot breath dampened the pillow where her face smashed into it. 

“I’ve thought so often of suggesting it,” Azira continued, using her thumbs to open Crowley’s lips, “But you are so stubborn, I suppose I’m just choosing my battles.” She leaned down then, and blew a cooling breath over Crowley’s aching cunt. Crowley was beginning to tear up in frustration, but she had faith that her wife would take care of her. 

“Still,” Azira said, voice so low it was difficult to hear, her lips hovering over Crowley’s desperate core, “I do hope you’ll consider it.” With that, Azira plunged a pointed tongue deep inside of her.

Crowley cried out, squeezing at her breasts, pushing her hips back as Azira fucked her on her tongue. Azira caught her hips in a firm grasp and held them still, her tongue still pushing in and out in a relentless rhythm. Crowley was ecstatic, but after a few moments, she needed more. Azira seemed to read her mind. She pulled back.

“Oh, darling,” she said, replacing her tongue with a clever finger, rubbing the prominent ridged swell inside her, “I’ll never get over the way you taste.”

“Fuck,” Crowley moaned.

“And your way with words, no wonder you’re such a successful solicitor,” Azira added another finger, targeting her so specifically that Crowley was afraid she might squirt if she continued in this manner. She thought briefly of the rug, then thought “f uck the rug ,” then imagined explaining the stain to a professional rug cleaner.

“I’m going to–-” she gasped, “If you keep doing that–-”

“Oh, darling, I know,” Azira purred, still working her G-spot relentlessly, bringing her dangerously close to the edge before abruptly stopping. “It pains me, but perhaps another time. I was quite prepared but neglected to bring out our special blanket.”

Crowley shuddered as Azira removed her fingers and worked her over with tender thumbs again. She must look a picture, her pussy puffy and clenching, mouth agape, fingers still pinching at her nipples. 

“Please,” she whispered.

“Please, what, darling?” Azira asked, cool as a cucumber. 

“I need–-” Azira rubbed two fingers expertly over her clit and Crowley cried out.

“More of that?” Azira teased.“More, more of anything, anything you’ll give me,” Crowley panted.

“Such a brave girl, putting your pleasure in my hands,” Azira said, rolling Crowley’s clit gently between two fingers making Crowley let out an anguished moan. “Trusting me to have my way with you.”

“Yes,” Crowley gasped,  “ Please.”

“Such bravery should be rewarded,” Azira cooed, and with no further preamble, her mouth descended on Crowley’s desperate cunt. Crowley whined as her wife lapped at her, her warm, expert tongue laving over her swollen labia, dipping down to tease her clit. Crowley lifted her hips wantonly, urging Azira to give her pressure where she needed it most. 

Azira mercifully relented, gripping Crowley’s left hip in one hand and plunging two fingers into her with the other. She leaned forward on her knees and devoured Crowley’s clit, licking and sucking her while Crowley clenched around her fingers. Azira brought her to the edge over and over, always drawing back at the last moment, teasing until Crowley was nearly weeping with frustration. But Azira always seemed to have a sense when Crowley couldn’t take more. She laid her tongue over Crowley’s clit, undulating it with the kind of pressure sure to bring Crowley over, fucking her dilligently with her fingers all the while. 

Her orgasm building, there was a delicious, warm tension in Crowley’s belly and down into her pelvis; her toes curled and she grasped at her nipples again. Azira dragged her tongue over Crowley’s clit in firm, hot strokes. She cried out as she came, Azira continuing to fuck her through her orgasm, holding her tongue taut against her clit as she ground against it.

Crowley’s knees gave out as she rode the waves of it, and Azira caught her by the hips, lowering her gently to the ground. Crowley rolled on to her side, knees drawn up, heart pounding. She let out a broken hum, rocking side to side as the last of her pleasure washed over her. Azira slid down and spooned up behind her, throwing an arm over her waist and brushing sweaty hair off her nape before planting a fond kiss on the nape of her neck.

“Mmm, angel,” Crowley murmured, feeling fucked out and senseless. She was determined to reciprocate, but she’d need her wits back first and for her body to return to solid from its current liquid state. Azira stroked her arm, slid her hand down her flank, and laid a warm palm on her hip. That helped: the warm, firm, loving touch grounded her, bringing her back to earth. 

Crowley took Azira’s hand as she rolled over, bringing it to her lips as they came face to face. She could smell herself on her wife’s fingers, and her arousal purred to life again. Gazing into Azira’s eyes, she took her wife’s forefinger into her mouth and flicked her tongue over the tip, tasting her own mild saline flavor. Azira, who had just cooly brought her off without so much as a hitch in her breath, shivered. 

This pleased Crowley, so she continued, sucking gently on the tip of Azira’s finger; nibbling gently before pulling off with a pop. Azira’s eyes flashed, and she swept Crowley into a blistering kiss, nipping at her bottom lip until Crowley opened for her again, Azira’s tongue massaging hers. 

Working a hand between them, Azira massaged Crowley’s breast, running her thumb over the stiff peak of her nipple. This would not do. It was Crowley’s turn to take care of Azira, and she vowed not to fall prey to her wife’s wiles. 

Crowley guided Azira onto her back, adjusted the pillow under her head, and straddled her ample hips. She sat up, hips hovering over Azira’s pelvis to admire the heavenly vision of her beautiful angel spread out before her. Azira lay flushed beneath her, her chest rising and falling as her breath quickened. Crowley’s mouth watered at the sight. 

Leaning down, Crowley bracketed Azira’s head with her hands and kissed her again, too gently, teasing, tongue darting out to lick at her lips, tasting herself along with the faint flavor of chocolate. She moved down, licking and nipping at her wife’s neck, grazing her teeth over her pale shoulder. Azira began to squirm beneath her, letting out gratifying little gasps and moans. 

Crowley continued moving down Azira’s glorious body, cupping her breasts, mouthing at them greedily. She was almost embarrassed by how much she loved her wife’s breasts; it felt so cliche. But Crowley couldn't resist the heavy fullness of them, Azira’s silky skin, the large, peachy areolae topped with nipples that responded to the slightest touch. Crowley was only human, even if she felt nearly demonic with lust as she took one of those sensitive nipples into her mouth and rolled it on her tongue. 

Azira arched beneath her, grasping the back of Crowley’s head and holding her there as if there were anywhere else Crowley wanted to be. She licked and suckled at the hard, pebbled nipple until Azira was practically sobbing.  She pulled off and went for the other, kneading at the breast she’d just relinquished. Azira whined and bucked beneath her. Poor thing must be absolutely desperate. What could Crowley do but slide her hand down her wife’s soft belly, giving it a grateful squeeze before sliding fingers between her slick folds?

“God, angel, you’re soaked,” Crowley breathed, looking up at Azira through her lashes. She brought her wet fingers back up to circle Azira’s nipple, then bent down to lick the slick off as Azira moaned.

“Had all day to think about this,” Azira panted. “And then you came for me so, mmm—” here, Crowley slid two fingers over Azira’s clit—“So beautifully. Is it any wonder I’d be so, so–-” Crowley had plunged those two fingers into Azira’s cunt and crooked them just so. 

“So what, angel?” Crowley asked, grazing her fingers over Azira’s G-spot, while rubbing her thumb over her clit. “Pants-ruiningly horny?” 

“Cheek!” Azira gasped as her eyes rolled back.

“I’ll say,” Crowley grinned wickedly and ran a hand down to grab Azira’s arse, thoroughly enjoying having the upper hand after being so recently and devastatingly taken apart. Azira, apparently galled at Crowley’s impertinence, squirmed and made to roll them over, but Crowley held her fast at the hips. 

“Nope,” Crowley said, popping the ‘p.’ She slid down her wife’s body, in what she hoped was a seductive manner, “It’s my turn for a taste.” 

Settling between Azira’s legs, Crowley was in one of her favourite places in the world. The Ritz Bar in Paris and El Olivo in Mallorca were a distant second and third. She had ended up in this exact position when she had taken Azira to both places, so that may have influenced her ranking. 

Crowley’s skin against the plush nap of the rug was a sensual counterpoint to the enticing sensory spread before her. Crowley wanted to devour and she wanted to take her time. She decided to compromise. She nibbled at the sensitive flesh of Azira’s inner thigh, dragging her tongue up to the crease, smiling against the intimate little space as Azira made a high-pitched sound from the back of her throat.

Crowley took the same path along the opposite thigh, pausing to lap at the crease between her thigh and her pelvis, running her tongue along the tight space in long, slow strokes. Azira’s fingers tangled in Crowley’s hair and grasped one breast with the other. Crowley was on the right track, and she knew it. She sucked a bit at Azira’s outer labia, running her thumbs over them both. She was engulfed in Azira’s scent and Crowley and held it in her lungs, wanting that intoxicating fragrance to become a part of her. Overwhelmed with desire for her wife, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

Crowley pushed gently at Azira’s thighs, spreading them further, and lapped at the fragrant wetness of her. Running a pointed tongue over her entrance, up to her clit, Crowley flicked her tongue and sucked while slowly plunging her fingers back into Azira’s heat. Pausing, Crowley took in the pulse and clench of her wife’s walls around her fingers before working them against her G-spot.

Crowley knew Azira’s body well, and though they still experimented, there was nothing wrong with using tried and true methods. She worked up a rhythm with her fingers and her tongue that she knew would have Azira trembling within minutes, and sure enough, she felt her wife’s fingers grip her hair tighter, her thighs tense and close in around her shoulders. 

Crowley set a relentless pace, fingers and tongue working together, listening for every hitch of her brilliant wife's breath, every keen, and moan; feeling for every pulse of her cunt, tracking every twitch of muscle in her legs and belly. She could tell Azira’s orgasm was winding up, the spring of her body taut, her fingers pulling at Crowley’s hair hard enough that it nearly hurt. Crowley doubled-down, her whole world zeroed in to the sex drenched swell of Azira’’s sex. 

Azira was close, so close Crowley could tell it was only a matter of moments. Crowley’s ministrations were expertly calculated to bring her over the edge. Unexpectedly, Azira dipped two fingers into the cake still sitting next to her, scooping up a decadent morsel of pastry and thick, chocolate icing. Sliding her fingers into her mouth, Azira moaned as she lifted her hips, filling Crowley’s mouth with her delicious cunt. Crowley stroked her through it with her tongue and her fingers, felt her come, her walls fluttering, her slick covering Crowley’s chin and hand. Azira let out a long, lingering moan, her throat rippling around the bite of cake as she swallowed it. 

Crowley held still and waited for Azira’s hips to lower before slowly sliding her fingers out. She lifted off Azira’s clit, and gave a little kiss to her mons before pulling away. She reached for the baby wipes to clean her fingers and face, ( dammit, that had been a good idea ), and watched as her perfect wife melted into the rug as she rolled off of her. 

“Good cake?” Crowley asked, nestling beside Azira and burying her nose in her neck.

“The nummiest,” Azira said. Crowley grinned and rolled her eyes even though she knew Azira wouldn’t see it. Azira toyed with Crowley’s hair and turned to kiss her forehead. “Plenty more where that came from.” She kissed the tip of Crowley’s nose. “Bought the whole cake.”

“Is that so?” Crowley propped herself up enough to look at Azira properly and grazed the backs of her fingers over the inside of Azira’s arm. “Probably take the whole weekend to get through it all.”

“Maybe longer,” Azira agreed. “It’s quite a large cake.”

“Should probably take the next week off, then,” Crowley said, rolling over to kiss her wife’s chocolatey lips.

“I guess you'd better,” Azira said, and pulled Crowley down on top of her.