Crowley wasn't thinking enough to coordinate his limbs to move, knowing he couldn't bear to withdraw from his love, even just to make it to bed. Instead, he simply willed them under the sheets, pinning his Angel to the mattress with his weight. He renewed his motion, slow and deep, as his head bent to kiss over his Mark on his lover's chest, relishing the feel of the raised scar under his lips. That was his- the angel was his. There. With him. He needed to focus on that.