"Fuck," Crowley repeats. Somehow it's the most satisfying thing to say under the circumstances. When Rhea'li's tongue slides between his hemipenes, his hips jerk upwards of their own accord. "Fuck, Rhea'li--"

The hemipenes are swelling tot heir full size rapidly, and at the same speed Crowley is losing the plot, the world narrowed down to fuck that feels good. His fingers may have tightened in Rhea'li's hair, but he hardly notices.