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sunlight and self-indulgence

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It was a late morning in South Downs. Or maybe an early noon. Well, whatever it was, it was warm and almost blindingly sunny. Under the pale gold haze cast outside, birds swooped in the cloudless sky, butterflies flitted from one bloom to the next, and an angel sat on the patio in a white sundress drinking tea. She blew steam gently away from her cup of earl grey, letting it waft up into the air. A smile played at her soft lips. It was a good day.

At her side was a demon, who at first glance, might’ve looked brooding in an all-black getup and shades obscuring her eyes. But to anybody who knew her well—just one person, really—she was just as happy as her counterpart. In her hand was a book, borrowed with caution and treated with care. She surveyed the garden, examining each plant to see exactly which sprouts she would have to frighten into complacency today. 

Aziraphale followed her gaze and heaved a greatly put-upon sigh. “Don’t you start, dear. I’ll not have you disturbing the peace with unnecessary scare tactics.” Fussy as always.

“You weren’t complaining over dinner yesterday about my gardening ssstyles.” Crowley grinned, her natural hiss coming through. “In fact, I sstrongly recall something about my tomatoes being the besst you’ve ever had.”

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean tormenting the poor plants at every odd hour.” Aziraphale took a sip of her tea to find it pleasantly hot.

“Hm.” Crowley leaned on Aziraphale’s shoulder, stretching her legs out on the rest of the outdoor sofa. “I’d much rather torment you, angel.” 

Aziraphale shot her a fond look. “Good Lord. No rest for those married to the wicked, is there?”

Nope.” Crowley opened the book to where she had placed a single black feather to mark her place. Aziraphale had lectured her on that, something about keeping the pages clean and putting the results of her molt somewhere else, anywhere that’s not a bloody bookmark. The conversation was quickly halted with a kiss and the issue was forgotten. That still didn’t stop the side-eye of holy judgement aimed Crowley’s way when she found her page.

It was an Audre Lorde novel, some collection of feminist stories that Aziraphale had gotten first-edition in the 1980’s. It was also the only thing she could convince Crowley to read. 

Aziraphale cradled the cup in her hands as she leaned over to see the book. “How are you enjoying it?”

“Alright, I s’pose.” Truth be told, Crowley had already read it cover-to-cover and was currently on her second run through. But she’d be blessed if she was going to tell Aziraphale that.

“I’ll get you hooked on proper literature one of these days,” muttered Aziraphale, watching two hummingbirds flit around a hibiscus blossom. 

“Yeah yeah. Whatever you sssay.” Suddenly, Crowley’s face lit up with a wicked grin. “ Actually, there was this one bit I wanted to ask about.” She began turning, flipping through the book until she found her quarry, about a fourth of the way in. 

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Ask away, dear girl.”

“Right. So.” Crowley scanned the page, biting back a giggle. Demons did not giggle, nor did they blush, but the fact that her angel was the one who presented it to her made everything so much more amusing. Holy, my ass. “This one scene, with Ginger and the other girl. Got, er, pretty hot n’ heavy if you catch my drift...”

Crowley!” Aziraphale sounded only barely scandalized. This time, Crowley wasn’t able to hold back her cackle.

“Let me see…” she began to read, ignoring Aziraphale’s protests. “‘Her sssounds of delight and the deep shudders of relief that rolled through her—’”

“—Crowley, no—

“‘The sweetnesss of her body meeting and filling my mouth’ ooh, ssspicy .”

“Dear, please.” Aziraphale tried to snatch the book away, but to no avail. Some tea almost sloshed out of the cup, jostled by the movement. Crowley held it out of reach and kept reading, laughter lacing every word. 

“Really, angel, this is sscintillating sstuff: ‘wherever I touched, felt right and completing, as if I had been born to make love to—

“—Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” Aziraphale made a final, desperate grab for the book, but only ended up squirming uselessly against Crowley’s side. Just as Crowley opened her mouth to read the rest of the passage, Aziraphale snapped her fingers and it appeared in her hand. Checkmate. 

Crowley looked only vaguely put out before remembering that she had a fantastic memory. Meeting Aziraphale’s eyes, she finished speaking. “‘And was remembering her body rather than learning it deeply for the first time.’”

Now, both of them had gone rather quiet, cheeks flushed pink and breaths fluttering from their lungs. Aziraphale put the book down on the side table with a final thud. Letting out one last wisp of a chuckle, Crowley let herself fall forward, faceplanting rather gracelessly in her angel’s lap. She felt soft hands running over her hair, a wild mane of red curls, and down the back of her neck. Then, the clink of a teacup being set down.

“I actually liked it,” she confessed after a while.

“The book or the…?”

Crowley lips trembled with laughter against the spot right above Aziraphale’s knee, where fabric met skin. “The book.” After a second, she mumbled: “scene was good too.” 

Aziraphale leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head. “That’s what I figured. I actually don’t mind you reading, you know. I just, well, I was concerned for the neighbors.” 

Nevermind that the cottage was fairly secluded, and Crowley had no intention of speaking loud enough to catch the attention of others with feminist erotica. But better safe than sorry. Crowley snapped her fingers. “There. If anybody was close enough to hear, their ears will now be miraculously diverted.” 

“One might think there’s something on your mind other than reading.” Her voice had taken on an almost cottequish lilt. The kind of saccharine voice that promised further obscenities. Crowley shivered. 

“One might be correct.” She paused to let Aziraphale stroke her hair once more, this time reaching lower, trailing down the curve of her spine. “Mouth’s in more or lesss the right place.” To demonstrate, she pushed the hem of the sundress up and planted soft, wet kisses along Aziraphale’s plump thighs. The feeling of her silk-smooth skin was nothing short of religious. And that was coming from a demon. 

Crowley twisted her neck so that she could reach the top of Aziraphale’s leg, running her tongue along the crease of her thigh, every exhale hot and eager. Aziraphale reached out with her free hand for Crowley’s own, interlocking their fingers. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable on your knees, dear.”

It was just a suggestion, but the command behind it hit Crowley with full force. A soft, keening sort of sound left her. She all but jumped down, situating herself between Aziraphale’s legs. Somehow, she managed to keep their hands together throughout the repositioning. Crowley was obviously not a being geared towards blind devotion. She’d fallen for a reason, after all. But right now, there was nowhere Crowley would rather be except on her knees before Aziraphale. 

She’d always been notoriously bad at serving, whether it be Up or Down. Authority was something to be questioned, put under a microscope of suspicion, picked apart. Neither side deserved worship or obedience, if you asked her. But something in the way Aziraphale coaxed her, whispering good girl, immediately made Crowley take back everything she might’ve said concerning the matter.

One authority was permissible. More than permissible, Crowley realized. Desired.

Aziraphale’s fingers threaded through the fiery curls at the base of Crowley’s neck. The golden sunlight made her hair appear even more ethereal. When Crowley looked up, something in the way her wide-pupiled eyes glowed was more reminiscent of angelic desire to please than anything hellish. 

“You’re so good to me, Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice was little more than a low murmur, each breath coming on shaky wings. “So good.”

Crowley muffled her whimper against the soft skin of Aziraphale’s thigh. She could smell Aziraphale’s arousal, something sweet and heady that made her intoxicated with the desire to taste. 

“So that book did have an effect on you,” she said, pushing Aziraphale’s skirt up. “Gotta thank Miss Lorde, wherever she is.”

“Hush, now,” Aziraphale’s eyes shone with tenderness, full to the brim with love. Crowley fell quiet immediately, instead nuzzling against the damp spot in Aziraphale’s sensible white cotton panties. She mouthed at her, and was rewarded with a blissful moan. A long, drawn-out drag of her tongue and Aziraphale’s fingers tightened in Crowley’s hair.

Squeezing Aziraphale’s hand, Crowley continued with her rhythmic licks through the cotton until Aziraphale was pushing her hips up to meet each movement. Breathy sighs warmed the air. She threw her head back, eyes fluttering shut when Crowley caught a particularly good spot right under her clit. “Yes, just like that...oh God.” 

Crowley almost couldn’t handle knowing that she was the one who made her angel this way, all desperate and blaspheming. Abruptly, she lost all her patience, wiggling both hands free so that she could reach up and pull Aziraphale’s panties down to her ankles, where they promptly disappeared, reappearing somewhere in the bedroom upstairs. They quickly went back to holding hands, wedding bands clinking together. 

Crowley immediately buried her face in the junction of Aziraphale’s thighs, brushing the curling pale blonde hairs out of the way so she could lick all the way up her slit. Benefits of being the Serpent of Eden: Crowley could do really weird things with her tongue. Things that made Aziraphale gasp out a filthy moan and tug her hair just right. Which in turn made Crowley’s forked tongue vibrate against her with a groan.

Aziraphale’s taste was addictive, smearing Crowley’s mouth with its musky honeyed sweetness. Crowley made a hungry sort of sound, forging ahead. However, Aziraphale was quick to reprimand, pulling at her hair just a little bit tighter.

 “Slowly, love. Don’t rush it.”

Crowley didn’t want to take her time. She wanted to lap up every drop of Aziraphale’s arousal, wanted to feel her twitch and gasp and pulse. But she forced herself to withdraw, turning to press her cheek to the inside of Aziraphale’s thigh. When Crowley had regained a bit of her composure, she moved to kiss between her legs, warm pushes of her mouth around the outer edge of Aziraphale’s lips. Her wetness had slicked her thighs as well, and Crowley could taste traces of it. 

She licked gently at Aziraphale’s folds, using her free hand to spread them apart. Aziraphale guided her, little nudged to where she most wanted Crowley’s mouth. Wet noises filled the space around them. Occasionally, she would say something that made Crowley absolutely dizzy with desire.

“You're doing so well, mmph. My perfect demon, so good on her knees and… oh, please don’t stop.”

Although she had been purposefully avoiding the clit, she made sure to have her forked tongue flick against it every once in a while, making Aziraphale lose control even more. She was beautiful like this, whispering Crowley’s name like a prayer, showering her with praise. The way her hair caught the sunlight made it look like a halo was glowing behind her. It made the whole experience even more holy—Crowley, prostrating herself before Aziraphale, giving her the worship rightfully owed. 

With spit and arousal-slicked lips, she rubbed at the swollen bud of Aziraphale’s clit. Aziraphale keened and gasped for air, rocking her hips up against Crowley’s mouth. She held Crowley still by the curls as she took her own pleasure. And Crowley let her, thankful that her jaw didn’t deal with the same aches and pains as humans. 

All Crowley wanted in that moment was to be good for her angel, to make her come right on her tongue, to look up at Aziraphale and see that impossibly kind face smiling back. She closed her lips around Aziraphale’s clit and sucked lightly, pulsing her tongue on it. Aziraphale’s mouth made a perfect o, and a choked-off moan left her. Her back was arching, thighs shaking around Crowley’s head. 

“I’m close, ” whimpered Aziraphale, as if that wasn’t strikingly obvious. “Yes, Crowley, yes.” She didn’t really say anything else, and she didn’t need to. Crowley swirled her tongue, applying that wonderful pressure by sucking. They were still holding hands, although their fingers locked together in an iron grip. 

Aziraphale’s other hand was drawn impossibly tight in Crowley’s hair, brilliant red and glowing in the sunlight. She came undone with a cry, all the air leaving her lungs and holly fucking hell, Crowley could feel the exact moment when Aziraphale’s climax pulsed against her tongue. Crowley kept her mouth right where it was, feeling Aziraphale tremble through the aftershocks, feeling her clit twitch against her lips. 

 Aziraphale let go of Crowley’s hair, instead trailing her fingers down her cheek to cup her jaw. Her cheeks were bright pink, chest heaving, hair a mess. Crowley knew she wasn’t much better herself, but with the bonus of reddened lips that shone with Aziraphale’s wetness. 

“I love you, my dear Crowley.” Aziraphale beamed, absolutely blissed-out and sated. Her smile was enough to light up a thousand stars.

“Love you, angel.” Crowley surged up off her knees, not unlike a coiled snake, and pressed her lips to Aziraphale’s in a passionate kiss. She made sure that Aziraphale could taste herself. When they pulled away, Crowley was panting, leaning in for a second kiss, and then another. Finally, she let go of Aziraphale’s hand, sitting down next to her. 

“Thank you,” said Crowley, pretending that she wasn’t blushing. 

Aziraphale’s lips turned up in a lazy, sated smile. “Whatever for, darling?”

“The, ah,” Crowley coughed. “Positive feedback.”

Aziraphale stared at her, blinked once, and burst into laughter. “I adore you more than anything in Heaven and Earth. Have I told you that?”

“Many timesss.” Crowley’s tongue flicked out, testing the air and coming back with the scent of sex and earl grey tea. Aziraphale’s hand started to creep up Crowley’s leg and she watched it, from the knee up to the thigh and higher still, to the waistband of her black jeans.

“Can I?” Aziraphale tilted her head, nodding to where her fingers rested on the button of Crowley’s pants. “I mean, I noticed you didn’t come yet.”

Crowley was ready to say no, that she was okay, that she just wanted to look after Aziraphale. But listen to her angel climax had made a persistent ache build up between her legs and her hand was right there. So she nodded and pushed her face into the curve of Aziralhale’s neck.  

Aziraphale undid the button and the zipper, slipping her fingers past Crowley’s panties—black lace, although they weren’t that way before. She drew circles right over her hardened clit. Crowley counted them. She didn’t even get past five before she was trembling, whimpering angel into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck as she came.

South Downs still couldn’t decide if it was early noon or late morning, but the sun still shone as brightly as before. A perfect day, thought Crowley as she curled up close to Aziraphale, taking her left hand and kissing the wedding ring on her finger, for self-indulgence.

The angel and the demon sat curled up on the patio sofa, bathed in sunlight the color of gold.