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The Faces We Wear

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Crowley snapped his fingers, the industrial lighting in his flat jumping to attention, along with the plants. Behave yourselves, gents. We've got a guest.

Crowley's extremities were already jittery, probably a side effect of that incessant hammering in his chest. He'd never expected Aziraphale to say yes when he invited him to stay.

“Erm. I know it's not as, uh… cozy as the bookshop but… it'll have to do,” Crowley said, reaching in to his jacket pocket for the Bentley's keys with the intention of tossing them into the little bowl by the front door, the way he always did. He frowned and sniffed back a stinging behind his eyes when he remembered the keys had been in the ignition when…

“It’s fine, my dear. I appreciate your generosity all the same,” Aziraphale said, though he stood rather rigidly just inside the doorway, unsure of where to go or what to do with himself. Crowley stood awkwardly, clapping his hands together once, entirely at a loss himself.

“I thought, uh… I might sleep for a bit. Just… overwhelmed, I s'pose,” Crowley said tersely, Aziraphale nodding a bit overenthusiastically. “Of course, Crowley. I imagine you are. Don’t let me impose, I won’t take up too much space. Provide me a cup of tea and perhaps a book and you won’t even know I'm here,” he said with a nervous little smile, and Crowley forced a smile back. He had a flash memory of frantically searching the bookshop, screaming for Aziraphale. The last time he'd been under the assumption that the angel wasn’t there…

He realized he was standing there, smiling like an idiot, and cleared his throat. “Tea! Right. I’ll just erm” -he pointed in the direction of the kitchen- “put the kettle on.” He scurried quickly away, leaving Aziraphale still standing awkwardly in the entryway. “Make yourself comfortable, angel!” he called from the kitchen, slamming cupboards and cursing under his breath as he tried to remember where the bloody tea was. He didn’t actually stay here that often, after all. When he had tea, it was usually at the bookshop. Where was the damned kettle anyhow?

Aziraphale shuffled into the large living room, feeling very out of place among the modern furnishings and stark lighting. But as he glanced around, he started to notice little things popping out from the sterile atmosphere that screamed Crowley. For the most part, everything was sharp and new- a very cultivated aesthetic that seemed more like it had been made to be photographed, not lived in. But every so often, there was a little pocket of comfort. The sofa appeared very uncomfortable indeed, but next to it was a rather more plush looking chair, slightly worn from use, and tossed over the back of the chair was a blanket that was beginning to fray at the edges. There were faint scuff marks on the floor where the chair had been dragged closer to the fire, the white marble hearth stained a smoky grey. Aziraphale approached the chair and placed a hand on the back of it, adoring the warm little beating heart of the otherwise crisp and intentional cool of Crowley's flat. The place was uninviting at first, imposing even, but if you looked deeply enough, there was just a spark of contentment. How very Crowley.

“Here we are. Earl grey. I know how you like it,” Crowley said, setting a tea cup down on the side table next to the chair. He also appeared to be struggling with an armful of books, one of them toppling to the ground and landing halfway open, its pages bending beneath. “Bugger,” he whispered, nearly knocking heads with Aziraphale as they both reached for it. Aziraphale got there first and turned the book over, expecting to see a miracled copy of something generic. Something Crowley could quickly will into existence, seeing as how he surely didn’t keep books on hand in a place like this?

Instead he found a very worn copy of Shakespeare’s Comedies, one he himself had given Crowley after that business in Edinburgh. He smiled down at the thing, lovingly running his fingertips over the cover.

“I didn’t know what you usually read so I just grabbed what I had,” Crowley said, fidgeting with his arms still full of books. Aziraphale admired the book for a moment longer, then glanced down at his tea and the inviting looking chair, his heart swelling. He hadn’t expected to feel so welcomed here.

“Oh Crowley it's perfect. I'll be very comfortable, I expect,” he smiled, and Crowley released a breath he'd apparently been holding. “Right,” he forced out, setting the rest of the books on the sofa and nervously wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “I’ll uh… leave you to it then.”

He nodded and hurried toward the hallway, but not before Aziraphale could stop him.

“Crowley,” he said, his voice a bit weaker than he'd wanted it, though Crowley whipped around, his eyebrows arching over his sunglasses. Aziraphale wanted to hug him. It wasn’t something they had ever really done, but after everything that had happened, he just wanted to embrace his friend. He had been so close to losing him, and it had scared him. More than anything had ever frightened him before. Now it culminated in his present need to just hold him. He realized he hadn't said anything, and his mouth opened to convey everything that had just bubbled up to the surface of his emotions, but there were no words. His mouth closed, and he looked down at the ground. Well now you have to say something. Anything. Just say something.

“Thank you. For… letting me stay,” he mumbled. Oh bother. That wasn’t at all what I meant to say. He glanced back up at Crowley, who nodded, his lips pursed together. “Of course angel. It's no trouble. And… if you need anything, don’t hesitate to wake me. It won’t bother me.”

“Oh no! That won’t be necessary, I assure you. I’ll just be here. You know, reading,” he smiled, glancing down at the chair as if he should sit in it. “You um… you just get some rest.”

Crowley nodded again, hesitating in the hallway, before tapping the wall with the palm of his hand. “Right,” he said, before disappearing down the hall.

Aziraphale sighed, removing his coat and draping it over the back of the sofa, before lowering himself into the chair. Sure enough, it was just as comfortable as he expected it to be. He sipped his tea and fetched the Comedies, settling in for the night. Or so he thought.

He had never had trouble reading before. But for some reason, the Comedies just made him think about Edinburgh, and all the favors Crowley had done for him before and since. All the favors they’d done for each other. Crowley, the demon. Who was supposed to deliver the antichrist and start the last war. Crowley who had disobeyed, who had destroyed one of his own. Who had begged him to run away to the stars.

Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing as he glanced down at the book in his lap. He pulled a small note card from the pocket of his waistcoat, pondering the words inscribed on it. When all is faced and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enough you will be playing with fyre.

He wasn’t sure what it meant, but after spending hours reading the Prophecies, he knew well enough they should certainly be heeded. He wanted to ask Crowley what he thought, but he didn’t want to wake him. He tucked the note card into the current page of the Comedies and closed it, tapping the cover as he thought it over. He decided to make himself another cup of tea, if only because he didn’t want to read and he needed something to do to expend some of this extra energy. Sitting and reading was making his corporation itch.

He admired Crowley's kitchen as he waited for the kettle to boil. What a marvelous kitchen it was. The chefs at the Ritz would probably succumb to temptation just for the chance of cooking in it. It was a shame that it appeared no one had ever touched any of the stainless steel appliances.

Aziraphale poured his tea and brought it back out to the living room, attempting once again to calm himself. Yet again, he failed gloriously. He reached out with his aura, in the hopes of finding Crowley's peaceful and quiet. Instead he found anxiousness very like his own, and not a hint of the numbing buzz he felt when he was sleeping. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and ventured quietly down the hall, finding his way to Crowley’s bedroom simply by following the nervous aura.

The door was open and the room pitch black, though the ambient light from the hallway outlined his form, huddled under a fluffy duvet. His yellow eyes flashed in the light of the hall, a sight that should have been eerie but that Aziraphale simply adored. Usually he could see all of Crowley but his eyes. How wonderful it was to finally just see them alone.

“You’re not sleeping,” Aziraphale said as he leaned against the doorway, his hands tucked into his pockets. He’d meant it more as a question than a statement- he didn’t want Crowley thinking he'd been prying into his aura. But seeing as how he had indeed been keeping Crowley’s aura under close scrutiny, there was no denying it now.

“Couldn’t relax,” Crowley mumbled from the dark, the sheets rustling as he shifted a bit, his yellow eyes practically luminescent as they stared, unblinking. “You’re not reading.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Couldn’t concentrate.”

There was silence for a while, before Aziraphale pushed away from the doorway and approached the bed, lowering himself gingerly onto the foot of it. He was glad he was facing away from Crowley, in light of the admission he was about to make.

“I just… kept thinking about your voice. When I found you, after I got discorporated…” he stopped, waiting for a response from Crowley but only receiving more silence.

“My dear you sounded… so lost. When I asked you why you didn’t flee. To Alpha Centauri. You said…”

“Yeah I remember what I said,” Crowley interrupted, his tone a bit more harsh than he'd intended. It wasn't like he hadn’t meant what he said. He just didn’t like being reminded of those few hours that had quite literally been the worst of his entire existence. Aziraphale sighed, staring down at his own hands folded in his lap.

“Crowley I'm… so sorry. For everything. Perhaps this all would have gone more smoothly if I'd… just been on our side from the start,” he said quietly, his voice breaking a bit as tears threatened at the edges of his eyes. Crowley was quiet, but Aziraphale felt the bed shift as he sat up behind him.

“Yeah. That’s what I’ve been saying all along, you bloody idiot,” he jeered, though there was clearly a smile in his voice. Aziraphale breathed out a quick chuckle, sniffing away the mist from his eyes. Typical Crowley. Deflecting deeper conversation with sarcasm. He glanced over his shoulder with a hopeful smile, finding Crowley bare-chested with the blankets and duvet draped over his lap. His yellow eyes seemed to mirror the hope in Aziraphale's smile, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice this was the most vulnerable Crowley had ever allowed himself to be in front of him.

“Can you ever take anything seriously?” he asked, and Crowley smiled wider.

“What kind of a question is that?” he replied, his mildly serpentine fangs gleaming as he smiled at his friend. Aziraphale observed him for a moment, then scooted himself backward, laying over top of the duvet on the empty side of Crowley's bed. The demon's smile faltered as his heart skipped, and he lay back down, turning toward Aziraphale and pulling the covers up over his shoulder.

“You know, I never understood your enjoyment of sleeping but… this bed is very comfortable,” Aziraphale said, folding his hands over his stomach and wiggling himself contentedly into the duvet. Crowley had the immediate urge to say 'you're welcome to join me in it whenever you like' but then he realized how suggestive that sounded. Then he wanted to say it even more. Then he imagined two of himself, one of whom slapped the other and said 'knock it off.’ He decided no response was warranted after all.

Aziraphale seemed to notice his silence and glanced over, his happy little smile fading slightly as he noticed Crowley was staring. They both seemed to realize the intimacy of the situation they’d found themselves in at exactly the same moment. Crowley's breaths quickened almost imperceptibly, and Aziraphale's smile faded entirely, though he didn’t look away from his friend. That lovely face, that he'd grown so accustomed to. The high cheek bones, the way his mouth moved when he was smiling, those serpentine eyes, only ever visible when he felt safe. He remembered that feeling of expecting never to see that face ever again, and his heart dropped in his chest. Once again his arms ached for want of being able to hold him. He made a singular decision, and sent his muscles into action before he could second guess himself. “Well this won't do,” he muttered, standing and beginning to pull his bowtie loose. He rolled his sleeves back down from his elbows, and began working down the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Aziraphale… what… are you…”

“Shush,” Aziraphale said matter-of-factly, removing his waistcoat and starting on the soft blue button-up. Crowley was frozen, his hand tightening into a fist in the covers, gathering them to his chest nervously as his eyes widened. Aziraphale removed everything but his white cotton undershirt and a rather outdated pair of underthings, then pulled back the covers and slid into the bed in one easy motion, Crowley scampering backwards all the way to the edge of the mattress, his breathing and heartbeat doing backflips.

“Well Crowley, don’t act like I'm Satan come to claim your soul. I'm just… I only want…”

“Don’t,” Crowley snarled, making Aziraphale stop all together. Crowley's voice had held no mirth. He sounded… defensive.

“My dear, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just…” he reached out for Crowley's face, wanting to cup his cheek, but Crowley flinched away, the look in his eyes almost resembling the way he used to look at Aziraphale before the Arrangement- with caution.

Don't Aziraphale. Please don’t do this to me,” Crowley begged. The tremble in his voice nearly broke Aziraphale’s heart. His brow furrowed in confusion as he dropped his hand back down on top of the duvet. “Crowley, you look petrified, whatever is the matter?”

“I am petrified, dammit!” Crowley shouted, and Aziraphale forced out a breath, completely at a loss. He had thought Crowley felt the same way he did. That he would be craving… no, needing closeness right now, after all that had happened. He was so sure of it, he could almost always tell when Crowley was feeling the same as him. How could he have been wrong?

“Angel… I've wanted more from our…” he balked at the word relationship. It sounded stupid. Relationship didn’t begin to describe what they had.

“Well from you for a very long time and I was finally beginning to convince myself that I'd be okay with the way things are. You can’t do this to me now. You can't… give me hope,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale glanced up when he realized Crowley was trembling rather substantially.

“B’cuz if… if you decided it wasn’t what you wanted, I don’t think I could let go of… you,” Crowley tried to maintain Aziraphale's eye contact but it was too much, so he dragged his eyes down to stare at the duvet. Aziraphale studied him for a moment, and finally understood. It wasn’t that Crowley didn’t feel the same. It was that Crowley had been feeling this way for probably centuries and he'd been entirely oblivious.

“Oh my dear, I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale whispered, waiting for Crowley to look back up so he could see the sincerity of his words, but he didn’t. Aziraphale inched forward, once again reaching out, much more cautiously, and this time Crowley didn’t flinch. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh when Aziraphale's hand came to rest on the side of his neck, his thumb caressing just above his jaw on his cheek. Crowley leaned in to the touch, swallowing hard as his hand unclenched from the sheets and ventured to wrap around Aziraphale's wrist. He finally opened his eyes and Aziraphale's lungs seized up at everything in those eyes. Desire, longing, understanding… but more than anything it was love.

Aziraphale leaned forward quickly and pressed his lips against Crowley's, his urgency providing all the courage he needed. Crowley whimpered into the kiss, his hand tightening around Aziraphale’s wrist. He was rigid at first, but within seconds his lips parted and he sighed into the kiss, his strange tongue exploring Aziraphale's bottom lip before he took it gently between his teeth. He dragged himself reluctantly away with a groan, resting his forehead against the angel's, his entire body shaking as he tried to plead with Aziraphale to stop but his voice failed him.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale whispered, then again, when Crowley didn’t meet his eyes, “Crowley.” The demon pulled back slightly, chewing his own lip as his yellow eyes darted nervously between Aziraphale's icy blue ones. “I know what I want. I realize it took me a great deal longer to realize it than it did you, but… oh, Crowley when I thought I'd never see you again, when I heard how upset you were after I’d been discorporated… my heart broke for you. For us. I love you Crowley, I do. More than anything and I won’t ever leave you again, I swear it.”

He watched the emotions play over Crowley's eyes like a movie projector, his chest rising and falling quickly as he continued to tremble under Aziraphale's piercing gaze. Suddenly Crowley was upon him, hands clawing at his sides as he attacked the angel's lips, whimpering as he moved quick and urgent kisses along his jaw before licking and sucking at his neck. “Promise me, angel,” he muttered against his skin, his breath hot as he seemed to slither his body right up against Aziraphale's front, into his open arms. “Promise me,” he repeated, nipping at the sensitive skin below the angel's ear. His shaking was much more obvious now that he was pressed so close, though Aziraphale's touch seemed to only make it worse when he caressed down his spine. He whined as he rolled his hips, making his intent blatantly obvious against Aziraphale's thigh.

“I promise. Oh my dear I don’t ever want you far from me. Never again. I'd do anything for you, anything. Crowley,” his name came out more like a moan, and Crowley's high-pitched whine in response sent chills all over him. He urged his leg in between Crowley's, pressing his thigh tightly up against his groin, and Crowley cried out, his fingernails clawing at Aziraphale's hips.

“Too much?” Aziraphale asked, unsure of himself. He'd never done this before, he was simply doing what his corporation seemed to want to do.

“No, love. It's… you’re perfect,” Crowley gasped, his hips rolling steadily as he grinded against Aziraphale's thigh. “Are you…” he gulped down a breath of air, his gasps hot and moist beneath Aziraphale’s chin. “Are you sure this is okay? God I want you but only… only if you want me…” Crowley choked, the motion of his hips stopping, though he seemed to shake from the effort. Aziraphale considered his response, then thought better of it. Words had never been Crowley’s forte. He was a demon of action.

Aziraphale reached for one of Crowley’s hands, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing his knuckles tenderly as his eyes bore into the serpent's, before he guided his hand down beneath the sheets. He pushed Crowley's hand lower and pressed it up against the front of his boxers, his breath hitching in his throat and his eyes fluttering closed as Crowley cupped his hardness. Aziraphale knew his body was capable of physical love, but up until just a few moments ago, he'd never allowed it to be. And now that Crowley's hand began palming through the fabric restraining him, he began to regret not having allowed something like this to happen sooner. Especially with Crowley. He knew him. Trusted him. Loved him. It seemed only natural that he should make love to him.

Crowley,” Aziraphale whined, thrusting his hips forward and pressing Crowley's hand roughly against his arousal, emitting the most unangelic whimper at the sensation. “Does that answer your question dear?” he panted. Crowley attacked his lips, claiming his mouth, as his fingertips edged the waistband of Aziraphale's underwear, finding them lacking any elastic and quite a hindrance. Crowley rolled forward, until Aziraphale was on his back and Crowley hovered over him. He tugged at the edges of his undershirt, and Aziraphale leaned up slightly to permit him to remove it. He eased back down against the pillow as Crowley crawled backwards down his body, sensually dragging his hands over his torso and belly, making him jerk. His hands finally came to rest on those cursed underwear, gathering them up in two very intent fists, one on either side of the seam. He glanced up at Aziraphale, eyebrows raised for permission, and when the angel nodded, he yanked, tearing the fabric and setting free his newly aroused cock.

Aziraphale threw his head back against the pillow, eyes closed, and he had apparently stopped breathing some time ago. He felt Crowley crawling back up his body after a few moments, his hands on either side of his neck.

“Angel,” he spoke softly, and Aziraphale snuck his eyes open to find Crowley keenly watching him. “We can take this as slowly as you need. I want you to enjoy this. If you need me to stop, at any point, for any reason, just say 'apple.’ Okay?” he said, not budging an inch until Aziraphale made it clear he'd understood.

Aziraphale noticed that his own body had started shaking, though the concern and care in Crowley's eyes was a great comfort. “Yes. Yes of course dear,” he said with a nod, though Crowley remained where he was.

“You sure you're okay, angel?” he asked once more, and Aziraphale squirmed beneath him, already growing impatient. Impatient for what exactly, he hardly knew.

Yes Crowley I’m sure now just… touch me, please,” he begged, shocked at his own ability to do so. Crowley smirked, his eyes drifting over the angel's torso before he leaned down and flicked his serpent's tongue over a pink nipple. Aziraphale arched toward him, both hands jolting up to grip Crowley's upper arms.

“Goodness, angel. You don’t have to beg. Even if it does turn me on,” Crowley cooed, one hand drifting down to wrap around the angel's thick cock. Aziraphale gasped, his eyes slammed shut once more as Crowley began slowly stroking him.

“Oh, oh good lord, Crowley that… that feels…” his voice broke and he was unable to continue, his hips rolling shallowly and his fingers digging in to the lean muscle of Crowley's arms.

“Good?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale nodded, his chest heaving and his heart hammering wildly in his ears. Crowley slipped out of his grasp, and suddenly there was something cool and wet grazing the tip of his cock and he cried out, his eyes shooting open and finding Crowley kneeling between his legs, his strange tongue licking slow circles around him.

“Oh! Crowley, dear, stop, that's… that's too much. Not… not just yet,” he pleaded, and Crowley acquiesced, leaning slightly back but keeping his hand rhythmically stroking the angel's cock.

Too much ‘good?’ Or too much 'bad?’” he asked, a quiver in his voice.

“Good. Very good dear boy, I just… I'd like… to see you. To touch… you,” he stuttered, and Crowley nodded. “Alright, angel. How do you… want me?”

Aziraphale watched him for a moment, and he was struck by how selfless of a lover Crowley was. His only concern was for Aziraphale's comfort and pleasure, his own seemed to be an afterthought. Aziraphale turned slightly onto his side, and patted the bed next to him. Crowley crawled up next to him, his pretty eyes seeming to sparkle as he looked up at Aziraphale with anticipation. Aziraphale pressed a quick kiss to his lips, his fingertips skirting along the edge of Crowley's silk boxers, before dipping beneath to find him warm and oh so hard.

Crowley bit his lip and winced, a quick breath forced out as he caressed Aziraphale’s arm encouragingly. “Mmmm angel your... your hands are… fuck,” Crowley sighed, his head rolling back as he pushed himself into Aziraphale’s hand. He tugged at the waistband of his boxers, suddenly annoyed with them, then snapped his fingers, willing them out of reality. Aziraphale couldn’t help but to look down and admire Crowley's cock, sliding in and out of his hand. As lewd as it felt to admit, even that part of him was absolutely stunning. He felt compelled to say as much.

“My dear you are so, so beautiful,” he said, scooting closer and easing his thigh between Crowley's legs once more. Crowley hissed when Aziraphale’s thigh nudged against his balls, his stomach muscles twitching marvelously.

“Careful, angel. My ego's likely to burst if it gets any bigger,” Crowley teased, his ab muscles still quivering and fascinating Aziraphale as he encircled the head of his cock with his soft fingertip. Aziraphale chuckled, knowing full well Crowley’s ego wasn’t as big as he insisted it was. Otherwise he wouldn’t have taken such care to be so gentle with his angel.

“Dear, turn over for me,” Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley's eyes shot open, before he swallowed a lump in his throat. “Angel we don’t have to do… that yet, if you're not ready. I’m perfectly okay just… touching you. Letting you touch me. We can take this slower, if you want.”

Aziraphale smiled, his cheeks blushing as he remembered once telling Crowley that he goes too fast.

“Crowley, it's been six thousand years. And I’ve loved you for a lot of those years, no matter if I’d admit it or not. Now that I know what it feels like to doubt the sunrise, I don’t want to waste another minute.”

Crowley nodded, his eyes softening as he pressed a loving kiss against Aziraphale's bottom lip. He turned so his back was to Aziraphale, the angel caressing along the inside of his thigh, lifting his leg up and over his own thigh and supporting it with his knee. He eased his hand slowly up Crowley’s leg to his hip bone, fingertips gliding back over one smooth buttock and reveling in the broken little noise Crowley made.

He pressed wet kisses to the back of Crowley’s neck and shoulders, his fingers pressing between his arse cheeks gently and locating his entrance.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley began, but the angel cut him off.

“Crowley if you ask me one more time if I’m sure, I'm going to smack you,” Aziraphale said with a smirk, though it faded as he heard Crowley start to giggle. The demon glanced over his shoulder with a wicked grin. “Oh in that case, angel, are you su…”

Instead of hitting him, which he very much wanted to do, he instead penetrated him with one miraculously slick finger, as far as he could thrust inside him. Crowley gasped, a hand shooting out to grasp the corner post of the headboard until his knuckles turned white. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, gasping as he arched his back. Aziraphale felt instant regret, and slowly removed his finger.

“I'm sorry dear. Got carried away,” he mumbled.

“Don’t care. Do that again, please,” Crowley practically cried, a violent shudder coursing through his entire body.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, and did as he was bade. He slid one finger back inside Crowley, stopping to marvel at the way Crowley tipped his hips just so, and the pitiful little noises he was making. “Is this… good my dear?”

“Yes. Yes. Please. More…” Crowley pleaded, and Aziraphale took the hint, adding another finger and hooking them once he was fully inside him. Crowley howled, a hand quickly darting to his own cock and tugging insistently. Aziraphale was enraptured by the way Crowley writhed- he'd of course seen humans making love many times. Surprisingly enough he'd seen it so many times, it had almost become monotonous. But this… watching someone he loved, so desperately, when he was the source of their pleasure. My God it was intoxicating. The waves of adoration were spewing from Crowley like an ancient volcano. Granted, one that had been told for thousands of years it could never erupt. Not the way it wanted to, anyway.

Aziraphale inserted a third finger, if only out of necessity. He hadn’t expected his own cock to swell to the size it had. He was starting to worry for Crowley's sake that… well, that it might be rather uncomfortable if he wasn’t well enough prepared.

Crowley was all but convulsing, his body wracked by tremors of pleasure every time Aziraphale pushed his fingers fully inside him, contacting that spot just so and reducing the demon to a puddle of ecstasy.

“Aziraphale I… want… need you. Please angel,” he begged, turning his head to glance over his shoulder. The light from the hallway glimmered against wetness on his cheek, and Aziraphale realized they were tears. He leaned forward to kiss the tears away, Crowley allowing him to do so for only a moment before tipping his head back for a desperate kiss. Aziraphale kissed him as he removed his fingers and lined himself up, sliding easily and oh so perfectly inside him.

Crowley broke the kiss to whimper loudly, his hand reaching back and latching on to a handful of his angel's plush arse. “Angel,” he moaned, his hand gripping Aziraphale's arse cheek and encouraging him to move. Aziraphale started slow and easy, and even though he felt like he wasn't doing much, Crowley turned his head into the pillow beneath him and stifled a sob into it.

Aziraphale leaned back slightly, enjoying the view of Crowley’s long spine arching down toward two dimples just above his bum, and he couldn’t help but to caress down his back, stopping to tickle between the dimples with his fingernails. Crowley jerked erratically, before his body settled back into a steady shiver.

“Holy hell, angel. I’m a bloody wreck and we've only just started. This… you feel amazing. Is it… does it feel good for you?” he asked, voice weak and trembling, as he glanced over his shoulder. Aziraphale leaned forward again, pressing his chest against Crowley's back and feeling the beginnings of sweat sticking to their skin. He planted his chin on Crowley's shoulder and took the demon's earlobe between his teeth as he thrust himself fully inside him, to the hilt, moaning long and low into Crowley's ear as he tugged at that earlobe. “Yes,” was all he was able to manage around the ringing in his ears and the white lights dancing over his vision. Crowley yelped as Aziraphale’s hand found his cock once more, stroking him in long, smooth motions in tandem with his rhythmic thrusts. Crowley dug his heel into the meat of Aziraphale’s upper thigh where his foot was hooked just under his arse, urging him to thrust deeper, and one hand reached up to smack the headboard with a flat palm as he choked out a breathless “shit.

Aziraphale quickened his pace, thrusting faster and keeping more of his cock buried inside him as Crowley's hand clawed at Aziraphale's wrist, overwhelmed by his vigorous stimulation of his cock but also wanting more. He bumbled incoherently, several curses and possibly a few different languages mingling with gasps and whimpers.

Aziraphale rolled them both forward so Crowley was laying on his belly and removed himself from his lover, rocking back on his heels in order to give Crowley a moment to gather his wits. Crowley whined and clawed at the mattress beneath him, both thankful for the reprieve but also aching for Aziraphale to be inside him again.

“Are you alright love?” Aziraphale asked between gasps, admiring the view of Crowley so exhausted and writhing weakly on the bed. Crowley groaned, nodding as best he could, then tipped his hips back slightly, spreading his legs and beckoning Aziraphale back toward him. The angel chuckled quietly, crawling over him and finding Crowley's hand where it gripped the sheets, his fingers lacing between Crowley’s and closing into a fist together as he slid smoothly back inside him. This time he pulled almost entirely back out, then rolled his hips and penetrated deeply, keeping himself buried like that as Crowley wailed.

“Angel! Fuck I’m not gonna last much longer like this,” Crowley whined, and Aziraphale kissed his shoulder as he repeated the move with his hips, earning much the same response.

“I rather thought that was the point, dear,” Aziraphale said, his one free hand travelling up Crowley’s back to gather a fistful of his hair and pull gently.

“Well, yeah, it is. But good God I could be fucked like this for all eternity. By you, my angel. Only you. Fuck.

Aziraphale massaged Crowley's scalp for a bit, then pulled his head back by his hair, looking down at his adorable, exhausted face.

“Now it's my turn to have an ego, dear. I highly doubt that. You look like you can’t take much more. Shall we take a break?” Aziraphale asked, leaning back to kneel between Crowley’s legs, his hands absently caressing his arse cheeks. Crowley rutted roughly back against his cock, making them both suck in a gasp.

“No, please, no. You're driving me insane, please angel,” Crowley pleaded pitifully, his thighs shaking as he began thrusting himself back against Aziraphale, impaling himself over and over. Aziraphale closed his eyes and rolled his head back, just enjoying the feel of Crowley moving like that. His hands came to rest around Crowley's hips, and slowly, he began meeting Crowley's thrusts, his hands pulling him back to meet him. Normally Aziraphale would have been bothered by the lewd sound of his hips slapping against Crowley's arse but he was far too lost in ecstasy to notice.

Crowley arched his back and tipped his hips at just the right angle, forcing Aziraphale to contact his prostate just right, and he yelped, pushing himself rougher back against Aziraphale as he began pounding mercilessly into him. “Oh fuck. Oh Christ, Aziraphale, yes. I want you to come… but… I can’t… shit 'm gonna come,” he whimpered, his voice pitched higher as he tried desperately to keep himself from coming.

“I'm very close dear. It's alright. It's alright. Come for me,” he whispered, once again reaching up for a handful of Crowley’s hair and pulling his head back. That was all the demon could take, and he screamed as his hips jerked, Aziraphale reaching around him at the last minute to stroke him through it, feeling him swell and spill into his hand with a broken cry. His insides clenched around the angel’s throbbing cock, Aziraphale's wings springing from his back unexpectedly, the force pushing them both down onto the bed. Aziraphale whimpered as his orgasm wracked his every muscle, his eyes slammed shut as galaxies exploded in the dark- all of Alpha Centauri coursed through his celestial veins. His convulsing eventually slowed, and he gasped against Crowley's back, pressing breathless kisses to his sweat soaked skin.

“I’m terribly sorry, that's… never happened to me before,” he gasped, beating his wings a few times and tucking them away sheepishly. Crowley panted beneath him, then chuckled. “’S okay, angel. Happened to me the first time too,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

“Well it would’ve been nice to have some warning, Crowley,” Aziraphale quipped, playfully smacking Crowley's arm as he removed himself and willed away their mess, collapsing onto the bed next to him, still gasping. Crowley smiled, eyes dazzlingly bright, before he slithered into Aziraphale’s arms, tucking his head beneath the angel's chin. “What kinda fun would that be?”

“Foul fiend.”

They both chuckled at each other, before the weight of what had just happened settled in poignant silence. Aziraphale caressed Crowley's back where his wings should be, reassuring him that he wasn't upset in the slightest.


“Yes, dear?”

“Love you.”

Aziraphale sucked in a breath, his arms tightening almost imperceptibly around Crowley. If Crowley had said those words even a few days ago, Aziraphale would have laughed at him. Demons don't know what love is.

But Crowley does.

Aziraphale kissed his hair and sighed. “I know you do.”


Crowley fell asleep on Aziraphale’s chest, and the angel was more than happy to indulge him. He pulled the sheets and blankets up over his lover's shoulders, still aimlessly exploring the soft skin of his back. He listened to him breathe, felt his heartbeat, and wept quiet tears for him. Now that he'd let himself feel it, really admit to what he felt, it overwhelmed him. It felt as if he'd severed part of his own heart and instilled it in Crowley. How could he ever let him leave his side now? Knowing that if anything ever happened to his dear demon, a part of him would die too.

Crowley awoke alone, and sat bolt upright in a momentary panic. He relaxed as the scent of brewing coffee drifted through his bedroom, and fetched his red Turkish terry bathrobe, tying it loosely around his hips as he sauntered into the kitchen, finding Aziraphale in the breakfast nook, his gold rimmed reading glasses balanced on his nose as he peered down at a newspaper in his lap.

“Crowley, dear! Good morning! I hope you slept well. I took the liberty of making a pot of coffee. I would've made us some breakfast but… your refrigerator is conspicuously lacking of anything edible,” he said with a bit of unangelic sarcasm, before lifting his own cup of coffee to his lips and sipping it, his blue eyes peering out over the rim of his glasses. Crowley nearly swooned, but instead settled on running his hand through his hair with a bit of flash bastard flair, before approaching the angel and pulling the newspaper out of his hand. He removed Aziraphale's glasses and tossed them onto the table, then straddled his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him like it was the last time he'd ever get to.

“Good morning angel,” he said sensually, tucking his chin into his own elbow before tipping his head to the side and breathing in the scent of the angel’s hair. “You smell like a demon,” he mumbled, and Aziraphale chuckled, a hand venturing up Crowley’s thigh and stopping at the edge of his bathrobe. “And you smell like an angel,” he said.

“Mmm. Gross,” Crowley teased, and Aziraphale pinched his thigh. Crowley laughed out loud, leaning back to admire his angel's pretty face. He kissed the tip of his nose, distracting him enough to swipe his cup of coffee before standing. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said, hips swaying as he exited the kitchen and made his way to the living room.

He approached the sofa and found his pile of books still occupying the cushion nearest his chair. He moved them to the coffee table and plopped down onto the sofa, kicking his feet up on it and not really caring that his bathrobe had fallen open a little and was revealing quite a scandalous amount of upper thigh. Aziraphale joined him with a fresh cup of coffee and a not-really-all-that-annoyed scowl, sinking into the armchair, Shakespeare’s Comedies tucked between the armrest and his thigh. He blew on his coffee, attempting to cool it a bit, when his eyes focused on the top book on the coffee table- a much more modern copy of Shakespeare’s Tragedies, which he was sure he hadn’t provided, given that it had a tasteless paper dust jacket.

“Crowley… why do you have a copy of The Tragedies? I thought you preferred the Comedies?”

Crowley rolled his neck to look at the angel, then followed his line of sight to the coffee table.

"Oh. Erm... I guess... I decided you can't have one without the other. A point of reference, of sorts. The... light seems so much brighter next to the dark, right?" he asked, tilting his head back to look at Aziraphale, then gulping and looking away when he saw the look on Aziraphale’s face.

“Oh Crowley that’s… that’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t go getting all sentimental on me,” he said, nonchalantly reaching for the Tragedies and frowning down at the horribly cheesy cover art. He tossed the book over into Aziraphale’s lap, the front cover flopping open and the paper jacket flying off and landing on the armrest.

“You can have it if you like. I never read it.”

Aziraphale picked up the book, now completely unmarked, and glanced over where the Comedies were hiding beneath the discarded dust jacket of the Tragedies. He pulled the Comedies out, finding Agnes's prophecy still sticking out the top of it.

Choose your faces wisely.

He slowly reached for the Tragedies' dust jacket, sliding it easily over the cover of the much older book.

“Crowley… I've an idea.”