Angels were not supposed to go to Hell. Not ever. If an angel were dragged down to Hell, the expectation was that they would be subdued, violently, their wings magically bound, and their angelic divinity siphoned off a little at a time to be used by whatever lucky demon had managed to bind them. A bound angel was a magnificent source of power, and they were highly coveted. A demon saying to an angel "Fancy a trip down to Hell? It's nice this time of year" may as well be saying "Care to be my slave and my means to becoming a powerful old devil?"
Crowley had said it a few times, jokingly, to Aziraphale, who had responded dryly, "oh HA HA." It was only natural; the demon had to make at least a cursory effort. It would have been rude for him not to.
But after the Notocalypse, the rules got a little shifty.
Crowley only happened to be in Hell that day because he was wrapping up a few odds and ends before Hell got around to “dealing” with him. It was inevitable that someone would figure out that he was at the heart of the failed war, and he planned to be out of the solar system by the time that happened.
Someone screamed. Then another. Not that this was unusual in Hell, but it was different somehow; familiar. He followed the chorus of screams, out of habit, really, burst into the cavern, and was nearly blinded by what he saw.
Aziraphale stood in the center of a crowd of demons, wings stretched high and glowing with brilliant divine wrath. His plump, loving angel held a sword in one hand - this one not flaming - and a whip in the other, and was demonstrating violently to the assembled crowd that he knew how to use them. He didn't look like himself. He didn't look kind or intelligent or a bit of a bastard. He looked like Heaven's own righteous rage.
The crowd of demons parted, and let Crowley through to him. The white-shining angel lowered his weapons, and his eyes were only for Crowley. He approached slowly, like a dog uncertain that he would be well received.
"What are you doing here?" Crowley started to say, when Aziraphale sank to his knees, wings laid out behind him, weapons at his side. The crowd of demons gave a collective gasp, and fell silent. An angel charging into Hell only to kneel at the feet of a relatively minor (and disgraced) demon was … unheard of, to say the least.
Crowley stared down at his friend, dumbstruck. He reached out a hand, and Aziraphale laid his cheek into it. "Forgive me for seeking you out here. Heaven seeks to destroy me," he said. "I am a liability they can no longer bear."
"You're defecting?" an onlooking demon laughed. "Brilliant."
"No." He raised his eyes to Crowley. "I came to find my master."
"Your master? What the hell was that?"
He’d taken Aziraphale to the only room he was sure the angel would relax in - a library - but for once the angel didn’t even notice the books. "Do you really think they'd have left us alone if I said 'I've come to find my friend the demon who was my fellow turncoat'? No. You've said it before, the only thing Hell respects is power. So I put on a show of power, and put the fear of God - more or less - into them, directed at you."
"Oh, thanks very much for making me a target."
"It's not a lie, Crowley. I'm a powerful advantage for you here, if only they'll believe that you control me."
Crowley gripped Aziraphale's shoulders. "But I don't control you, you beige buffoon! You're my friend, and my equal."
Aziraphale put his hands on Crowley's, and he thought he'd never seen the angel look so forlorn. "I wasn't lying when I said that Gabriel and Michael and the other archangels are out to destroy me. They don't understand me, and frankly they are not incorrect that I am a liability to their plans. They figured out pretty quickly that I was rather … key, shall we say, in the War That Wasn’t. It's a strange thing to say, but the safest place for me is in Hell."
“It’s not exactly safe for me, either. Not for long.”
“It is if you have enough power.”
Crowley rubbed his face, comprehension dawning on him horribly. "You want me to bind you."
"It's not like I'm doing anything with my divinity."
"You want me to feed on you, like a vampire -"
"More like a tick."
"That's not better."
Aziraphale tilted his head. "I'm not entirely clear on why you're refusing to let me serve you."
Crowley kicked over a chair out of sheer frustration. "Because I liked it like this. I liked you being my equal. My only friend. You told me when I was wrong. You made me more than what I was."
"I can still do that."
"You've no idea what servitude to a demon means."
Aziraphale snorted, a very un-angelic sound. "You think I haven't read up on it? Do YOU have any idea what mastering an angel means?" He held up a hand to stop Crowley from talking. "You bind my wings, and in doing so bind me to you. You draw power from me. You become a true lord of Hell. Crowley, there will be no one to answer to anymore! You said it yourself, most of the lords don't bother tempting souls anymore, they just do as they damn well please! And none of them have a WILLING angel. Trust me, consent matters when it comes to angelic power."
Crowley cupped Aziraphale's face in his hands. "My dear, sweet friend. You don't know what else they do to their slaves."
There was no fear in Aziraphale's eyes when he said, "Do you think I'd say no to sharing your bed?"
Crowley searched the angel's eyes wonderingly. "I didn't think you'd say yes."
“I can’t, not now, not without Falling. But if I’m bound …” He watched Aziraphale steel himself. "I've done the math. Over and over. This is the best path, for both of us. Besides … do you really think you can just let me go? Do you think you could stand to do it, when you have me at your mercy? Do you think the other demons will tolerate it?"
Crowley hadn't considered that. He took a step back. How many times had he fantasized about maneuvering Aziraphale into exactly this situation? Stuck in hell, no way out, at Crowley's mercy. The things he'd fantasized about doing to his angelic friend, in his darker hours. Bringing him over, binding him, mastering him, making him enjoy every carnal act Crowley could conjure up.
And here he was, offering freely. Nearly begging for it.
“You bastard. You haven’t left me with any other choice.”
“There’s always choice. Kill me if you prefer. Bind me and release me if I don’t please you.”
“You could have given me a heads up.”
Aziraphale looked askance. “I would have, but Gabriel was quite literally on my heels.”
“Ah.” Crowley rubbed his mouth. “I’ll tell you what, you insolent little cherub. I’ll show you what binding is.”
He held up a hand, and a set of wing cuffs appeared in his hand. They would fit around the three bones of each wing, holding them tight, so he couldn't extend them. They would be permanent. He watched Aziraphale swallow hard, looking at them. There was fear in the angel's eyes now that he had to look at the infernal bonds directly.
“You really want to wear this thing? You really want to belong to me, as surely as any possession? You would have to obey, Aziraphale. You want me to wield you like a weapon against Hell and … thus … ensure our …. mutual security … ok I can see how that part would be appealing.” He dropped the cuffs. “Fine, you want to hear my real hesitation? You must know I couldn’t resist bedding you. And I’d never forgive myself if I took you unwillingly.”
Aziraphale bent, picked the cuffs back up and pushed them into Crowley’s hands. “I told you. I’m not unwilling,” he said. “It’s either being bound to you, or Falling. I made my choice.”
“That’s not as seductive as you think.”
Aziraphale took a shaky breath. “Then how’s this?”
He turned around, knelt, and held his wings aloft, offering. Crowley couldn't quite get his breath as he reached out, touched the trembling white feathers, ran his hand over the length of Aziraphale's wings. They were beautiful, powerful … and he was offering them to Crowley. Offering power, obedience, knowledge, divine grace, sex, things he’d never be offered again, especially not from a kneeling angel.
"Crowley," Aziraphale said. "I trust you."
His yellow eyes fluttered closed. "You'll belong to me."
"You better keep me. Put them on.”
Crowley gritted his viper's teeth, and before he could change his mind, lowered the cuffs to Aziraphale's wings.
The cuffs closed and tightened of their own accord, and constricted until Aziraphale’s wings were folded in tight against his back. He felt dirty, looking at the cuffs that bound Aziraphale, feathers all out of place and bent. But his name - not Crowley, that was just what he went by, no, his true name - burned on the inside of the cuffs, burned into Aziraphale's wings, into his very essence, made him scream, and the surge of power was immense. The little miracles he'd always used were nothing, mere trifles. Now, he could summon hordes of demons with a thought; he could rearrange continents. He could do … anything. A demon with an angel's divinity.
And he could see The Aziraphale for what he was. Not a chunky bookworm whose gluttony only rivaled his sloth for Favorite Sin; no, he was a miraculous thing, a storehouse of knowledge, a wavelength of power, a Gordian knot of celestial ley lines, a series of undulating rings describing all the matter in the universe, a map of time, a multi-dimensional sensation that manifested as wings made of eyes, eyes that saw everything, a chaos nebula containing the very foundations of the universe, a garden -
Crowley staggered backwards and collapsed on the floor, hands over his face. Stop stop stop, he thought, he had to cut himself off from the THING he had just bound. How could he ever have perceived of The Aziraphale as a man-shaped being named Aziraphale who liked crepes and books and needed rescuing from time to time?
He realized then why the lords of hell kept out of most things. They understood the world too well. Comprehension taken too far was just madness.
"Crowley? Easy now my dear, I think you took in too much."
Aziraphale pried Crowley's hands off his face, and once again, he was looking at the kind face of his friend, all soft and pale and concerned. But he knew it was just a seeming, an avatar. Crowley's face was an avatar also, of course, but underneath he was just a serpent, a demon, who had once been an angel also but a very very tiny one whose purpose was spent 6,000 years ago. How could he possibly be the master of this thing, this star cluster, this dimensional loop, this forest of energy, when he was but a worm?
Crowley shook his head. "You're too much for me, angel."
Aziraphale pulled Crowley to his feet. "Stop trying to take it all in, you'll hurt yourself." He dusted Crowley off and smiled mildly. "There, you see? Feel better?"
The flood of information and power had stopped. Crowley's mind was still something of a disaster area that required FEMA intervention, but the worst of the storm was past. Or at least, contained.
“You’re … more than I bargained for.”
“Well. I would never have chosen a master who could truly overpower me.”
Crowley glared at him. “Isn’t that the point? Overpowering?”
“Please. The point of you being my master is that if I really, really needed to, I could break the bond.”
Crowley snorted. “You’re a terrible slave. Next you’re going to be instructing me on how you would like to be oppressed.”
“Do I really need to remind you there’s an open clamp, still?” Aziraphale said, all gentle manners.
Of course. The one that went around his neck. It hung open, connected to the cuffs on his wings. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
Crowley placed it against the back of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale lifted his chin, to better allow Crowley to close it. “You’d like for me to do this? To claim you completely?”
Aziraphale swallowed. “Yes.”
“Yes, Master. Please.”
He’d seen angels bound before, watched the hours of struggle and force and blood and dismemberment it took to wrestle a divine force into bonds. And now … his angel bent to him willingly. Eagerly.
“I want you,” he managed to get out. “I want to possess you. I want to master you and protect you and wield you and have you.”
Aziraphale’s eyes were steady. “Then come and take me.”
He closed the collar, and Aziraphale was his.
Sharing the news with the rest of Hell had been a singular delight. How horrified they’d been, how terror-stricken. The best part was how he could leave as soon as he wanted, and retreat to his (newly miraculously expanded) rooms with his brand new angel slave.
His. How long had he desired this angel? Since he first met him, in the garden? It had been growing steadily like a tightening, thickening vine all these years, until his very sexuality was Aziraphale shaped. He hardly had him alone before he backed the angel against a wall and held him there.
“I want you in my bed,” he said, and it came out as a hiss. “Now.” Crowley dragged him in by the collar and kissed him.
Aziraphale melted against him, going soft and pliant in Crowley’s arms. He kissed the way he did all things, deliberately, thoroughly, all in. His hair was soft between Crowley’s fingers, and he made the most wonderful noises as Crowley deepened the kiss, explored him, claimed him, mapped out his mouth, then moved down to his throat. He wanted more.
Clothes mean very little to celestial beings. They are like a forest that has some pretty flowers blooming nearby. It’s kind of nice. But not a bit necessary. Crowley dismissed their clothes with a snap of his fingers. He let out his wings, and used them to wrap around Aziraphale (whose wings would never unfurl again) and bring their bodies together.
“Tell me what you want, angel,” he said. “Open your mind for me, if you can’t bear to say it in words.”
This was a bad idea, as there was far too much of infinity in Aziraphale’s head for Crowley’s taste. He didn't want to be intimate with the rings of Saturn, or bond with the gravitational forces of the galaxy. It took quite a bit of effort for him to bring him and Aziraphale back to this plane, this moment, and the exertion left him gasping and shaking.
“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said. “You asked!”
“Can we not … work up to fucking the solar system?” Crowley said from the floor. When had he gotten on the floor?
Aziraphale knelt beside him, looking contrite. “Tell me what YOU want to start with then. I am yours to command, after all.”
Crowley managed to get upright. “You’re enjoying this. The whole submission thing.”
He shrugged with shoulders and wings. “Most angels are natural submissives, when we find someone we want to be our master. We were created to serve. We’re just … enormously bratty to anyone we think can’t handle us.”
“Well that makes an absurd amount of sense. And here you are trying to train me how to handle you, don’t think I don’t understand what’s going on. You’re like an elephant teaching a toddler to ride it.” He looked down Aziraphale’s body, crouched over him. “I think … I’d rather start with this crude matter. Get some practice in, fulfill a few fantasies, before I start mucking around with you as a horrific cosmic principality.”
He stood, stepped around behind Aziraphale, and groped his wings, feeling the muscle and bone and feathers so tightly bound. He felt his angel shift under his touch, enjoying the sensation and even the slight pain of having his feathers pulled.
“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “You might warn a fellow.”
“You’re hardly a fellow, you conscious ray of light. You like having your feathers pulled?”
“I do. More the - the secondaries though, not the primaries. I almost wish I could unfurl them for you.”
“Well if anyone can figure out a way to manage it, it would be you.” He ran his hands over Aziraphale’s sides, his hips, his ass, his thighs. He liked how solid his angel was in this form - plenty to grab onto. He ran hungry hands over Aziraphale’s round stomach, his ample chest, up to the collar at his neck. “This turns me on so much, you wearing my collar.”
“I have to admit,” Aziraphale said, “it excites me to wear it.”
Crowley growled in his ear and ground against his ass, demonstrating his arousal. “I want you to have a pussy for me to fuck.”
Aziraphale hesitated. “Do you intend to … get a child on me?”
“Dear god no. Keep it simple. This is just fucking. Something I’ve wanted to do to you for thousands of years.”
“I’m not supposed to want it,” Aziraphale said, soft and trembling.
“But you do, don’t you?” Crowley purred.
He pushed Aziraphale to the bed, bent him over it with a hand between his wings - the angel didn’t resist - and kicked his ankles apart. Instead of a cock and balls, he felt slick folds when he felt between Aziraphale’s legs.
“Good angel,” he said, as he rubbed the head of his cock between those folds. “Tell me you want it.”
“Please - I do. I want you.”
“Anyone? Do you want any demon cock inside you?”
“No - just you, Crowley.” It was muffled as he said into the duvet, “I only want you, my master. I love you.”
Well he wasn’t going to get more of an invitation than that. He pushed his cock into Aziraphale, and the angel gave the most delicious, half-startled cry of pleasure as the demon entered him.
Crowley was a serpent demon, and he ensured that Aziraphale could feel every movement inside him, every undulating thrust, hot and hard. There was no mistaking fucking a demon for fucking a human, not when they could make themselves bigger, longer, hotter. Crowley let his wings out and covered Aziraphale as he moved inside him, increasing the temperature and size, listening to Aziraphale’s cries of pleasure. He gripped the angel by his bound wings to pull him back onto every thrust. Crowley knew exactly what he was doing, and brought his angel to climax over and over, unrelenting.
Crowley’s own climaxes crashed over him, one after another, with no inconvenient refractory period in between. His seed ran out of his angel’s cunt, ran down his legs in pearly rivulets. He couldn’t get enough, couldn’t come hard enough, couldn’t mark his angel inside and out enough to be sated. He left bite marks on Aziraphale’s neck and back and wings. The angel took it, and took it, and never said no.
Finally, Crowley pulled out, flipped him onto his back, and Aziraphale panted with relief.
“I didn’t - know. Expect.” He closed his eyes. “My stars, how many times did you finish in me?”
Crowley smiled down at his mess of an angel. “You hedonist. You’d Fall if you just strolled down here and fucked a demon, but bound as you are, I can do anything I want and you don’t Fall. What a way to avoid the consequences of your own desires.”
“It’s not exactly consequence free, giving up my free will to a demon,” Aziraphale said, but there was a smirk on his face.
Crowley moved on top of him. “I’m not done with you yet.” He ran a hand up Aziraphale’s thigh. “Open your legs, angel. Your demon master still desires you.”
Aziraphale laid back and spread his legs wide. “Do you wish a different genital arrangement?”
“Maybe later. Right now I just want you to be little tighter.” He pushed inside his angel again, and this time the muscles constructed around his cock until it was almost painful. “Ohhh … yes. Like that. Maybe relax just a little so I can move without breaking anything. There, that’s better.”
Seated deep inside the angel he’d wanted for thousands of years, Crowley leaned forward, and kissed him. Aziraphale made a soft noise, so different, and opened to him. Crowley explored his mouth with his forked tongue, licked along the shell of his ear, left four-fanged little bite marks along his neck and chest. He rocked back and forth, repeatedly entering Aziraphale and pulling out, just to enjoy the renewed sensation of penetrating him again.
Aziraphale wrapped his legs around Crowley, gripping him tight. He moaned underneath Crowley, and sank his fingers into the black feathers of Crowley’s wings, which made Crowley’s eyes roll up in his head. Crowley grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the mattress. With a moment’s thought, he changed the texture of his cock, and Aziraphale cried out anew, startled by the new sensations filling him. Crowley felt his angel shake all over with renewed orgasm, and filled him once more with his own.
Crowley collapsed to one side, and Aziraphale turned to face him, both of them exhausted and sated and spent.
Crowley fingered the collar around Aziraphale’s neck. “You’re mine,” he said in wonder. “Really mine.”
“Yes I am.” He leaned in and kissed Crowley softly. “Oh my beloved. I didn’t think I’d ever get to have you.”
“You’re a bastard, you know. You could have just asked me to claim you. Could’ve done that eons ago. We could have a whole lineage of little demon-angel hybrids by now.”
“I don’t think I want to have your babies, thank you very much, that sounds painful.”
Crowley grinned. “Oh but I’m your master now, you’ll do as I say, won’t you? Psh, don’t look so concerned, I’m not serious, I don’t want kids.” He touched the bite marks he’d left peppered over Aziraphale’s body. “Leave these. I want the other demons to see I’ve known you, biblically.”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Is that necessary?”
“Of course it is. The more marked you are, the less likely they are to try anything.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over Aziraphale’s cheek. “I don’t want anyone else to touch you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
Crowley hesitated. “Did you mean it, when you said you love me?”
“I did. Of course I did.”
Crowley bit his lip. “You know demons are incapable of love.”
“Yes I know.”
“But … I get as close as is possible, for you.”
The creases around his eyes crinkled as Aziraphale smiled. “Oh I can lift that restriction.”
“I’m sure I can. I just need to read up on it. I mean, if I can figure out how I, an angel, can love - and shag - a demon without Falling, I’m sure I can figure out how a demon can experience love without exploding in the white-hot fires of damnation.” He shrugged. “There’s loopholes for everything.”
Crowley stared long and hard, unblinking. Then, finally, “I’m going to make you sit at my feet in front of other demons.”
“Oh stop it.”
“No really, you can lean on my knee and stare up at me adoringly while I grope your wings. Just because I can.”
“You’ll enjoy it. I’m going to put a tag on that collar. It’ll say ‘If found, please return to Antony J Crowley.’ I’m going to call you Aziraphale of the Cosmic Loopholes.”
“It’s all a bunch of loops, you know. The entire universe. I can show you.”
“Please do not.” He gathered his angel up in his arms, and thought, worriedly, that he might just end up in love, if Aziraphale had his way. And Aziraphale always seemed to get his way, in the end.