That grin has promises in it, and Crowley stills, forgetting to breathe. He feels like prey. But… not in a bad way. The other man is suddenly very close, and Crowley is pretty sure his irises have spread to fill his eyes gold from edge to edge, with no concentration available to keep them small and human looking.

When Rhea’li kisses him, he makes a startled noise and almost tips over backwards before he grabs onto the miqo’te’s shirt to stabilize himself. His head goes blank. What he does now he has no precedent for. This isn’t a desperate plea, this is just… a kiss. Having fun with a friend. It isn’t earth shatteringly important.

He was right that kissing seemed like it would be nice, anyway.