It's well into the Arrangement before Crowley actually sees Aziraphale tempt anyone. He's sent Aziraphale to do it on multiple occasions, but that's just it; he sent him away, usually miles and miles away from himself. He doesn't ask how Aziraphale gets it done, exactly like how Aziraphale doesn't ask how Crowley blesses people. It doesn't matter, as long as the Arrangement continues, everything that needs to get broken getting broken and everything that needs to be fixed getting fixed.
Right now, Crowley is attempting to invoke the Arrangement for the most craven of reasons; he is trying to convince Aziraphale to do his tempting for him solely because it'd be hard to stand up.
Crowley is a few drinks in, and his pants are leather, and the seats of the booth they're sitting in are vinyl. Getting in was an ordeal that Crowley doesn't care to repeat, and he's going to have to miracle himself some baby powder when he does decide to stand up.
"Can't you just do it a little bit?" Crowley says. "Come on, you know I'll return the favor."
"Even if I were to do it," Aziraphale says, which Crowley knows means he's going to, "I don't know what the target is."
"At the bar, neon green shirt and eyeliner," Crowley says, because this decade has been absolute shit for fashion. "All he needs to do is hit on the nice man next to him with the wedding ring, and the rest of the lust will take care of itself. Kids' stuff."
"You'll owe me for this one," Aziraphale says sternly, as he slides out of the booth, which is much easier for him than it would be for Crowley. He walks away from the table, into the hallway, out of view. When he walks back in, Crowley sees him like heat shimmering above tarmac, the telltale sign that no one in the bar but Crowley can see him, unless there's a witch about.
Aziraphale walks straight to the man in question, who's still at the bar. He puts a hand on the man's back, and the man shivers, not quite like he's cold. Crowley strains to listen, the rest of the club going quiet as he focuses directly on Aziraphale.
"My dear boy," Aziraphale says in a silken, purring voice Crowley didn't even know could come out of him. "Wouldn't it be so easy? All you have to do is take his hand. He wouldn't say no to you." He runs a fingertip around the shell of the man's ear, and he gets another little frisson.
So does Crowley.
"Think of how good he's going to feel inside you," Aziraphale whispers. "You can have everything you want if you'll only make the tiniest effort."
Crowley bites down on his tongue to keep from making noise. He wouldn't do anything to interrupt Aziraphale's good work, but he might do something ridiculous like whimper.
"You should do it," Aziraphale cajoles, his voice sounding like sweet sin. "Just do it, darling, and everything will be so lovely."
The man hesitantly reaches forward, putting his hand over his companion's, and Aziraphale backs away, like someone who's just set up a house of cards and doesn't want it to fall. He walks back from where he came, rematerializing before emerging again.
The noise of the bar rushes back in as Aziraphale returns to the table, sitting down primly, like nothing ever happened.
Crowley does not have a sex drive, as such. He usually has genitalia, and he likes to have sex now and again, when it comes up. The biological urge is missing, though, because Crowley is not, strictly speaking, biological. This allows him to pick and choose when to be aroused and what by.
Except that Crowley is so hard that it's actually painful, and it wasn't his own doing.
"Anyone who succumbs to such a temptation was headed for trouble anyway," Aziraphale says judgmentally.
"Finish your drink, angel," Crowley says. "We're getting out of here."
"Alright," Aziraphale says, looking puzzled, and Crowley peels himself off of the booth.
Crowley gets them into the Bentley and points them back to his flat, not the bookshop; the bookshop is nice, comforting, but it feels so inappropriate for kinky sex, which is what Crowley intends to have. He signals this intention by resting his hand very high up on Aziraphale's inseam, feeling gratified when it makes Aziraphale make an effort almost immediately.
They arrive and enter Crowley's flat, and Crowley jumps him immediately, crowding him up against the wall and kissing him fervently. "I wish I knew what I did," Aziraphale says as Crowley bites down on his neck, above the line of his collar.
"You-" Crowley says, but he doesn't know how to finish that sentence that won't sound like an accusation, even though he means it as praise. Instead he keeps biting and sucking, trying to convey it without admitting anything.
Aziraphale is not a passive partner in any of this; currently he's working his hands under Crowley's clothing, looking for good spots to touch. As far as Crowley is concerned right now, every spot is good to touch, but he needs more. It just won't be enough if he doesn't get it.
"Love what's happening here, really," Crowley says, moving back just a little, not far enough to break the bubble they're in. "It was my idea and all. But, ah-"
"What is it, my dear?" Aziraphale says, pushing a lock of Crowley's hair behind his ear. "I'll give you anything you want."
"I'm already convinced to do this, mind," Crowley says. "But if you could-" He swallows. "Maybe talk me into it, like you did back at the club."
Aziraphale chuckles, the way he does when he's indulging Crowley's sillier whims. "Alright, then." He kisses Crowley briefly. "I don't think I'll have a very hard job. I think you already know how much you want this."
His voice has that same purr in it, the tone that Crowley is going to be hearing in his head for the next few centuries. "Maybe I do," Crowley says noncommittally.
"Oh, my dear, I know that you do," Aziraphale says, running his thumb along Crowley's bottom lip. "I know that you want to suck me." A flash of pure heat goes right through Crowley's body. "Why don't you just go ahead and do it? There's no reason for you to deny yourself what you want. Don't you deserve it?"
Crowley slinks to his knees, because he does want that very badly; maybe at some point in this he'll be able to muster some resistance, but not just yet. His clothes don't exist, as such, being manifested rather than purchased, so in the space of a thought, he's naked at Aziraphale's feet.
"Oh, good Lord," Aziraphale says, his head going back against the wall.
"Haven't even started yet," Crowley says, working open Aziraphale's fly.
"You just look very tempting like that," Aziraphale says.
"That's supposed to be my line," Crowley says, pulling Aziraphale's cock free.
"Then I'm not tempting you enough," Aziraphale says. He puts his hand gently on the top of Crowley's head, tilting it backwards so that they're making eye contact. Crowley sticks his tongue out as brazenly as possible, wanting what he wants as fast as he can have it. "You're quite ridiculous," Aziraphale says, but it sounds fond.
"Oh, extremely," Crowley agrees.
Aziraphale releases Crowley's head. "Do you want this, my dear?" Aziraphale says, stroking his cock slowly, and Crowley licks his lips. "I think that you do. I think you've been dying to have it. Just have a taste, darling."
Crowley leans forward, licking the head of Aziraphale's cock, and Aziraphale moves his hand, giving Crowley room to take it into his mouth. Crowley makes no attempt at subtlety, sucking desperately from the beginning.
"Isn't that good, dear?" Aziraphale says, though he sounds winded. "Isn't it nice to be a little bad? Surely it can't hurt."
Crowley moans around him. Aziraphale is just too good at this; no angel should be able to sound so alluring. They're meant to be buttoned-up middle managers, and to hear Aziraphale advocating for sin is so devastatingly hot that Crowley wants to bask in it.
Aziraphale winds his fingers into Crowley's hair, guiding him gently into a rhythm. "Just like that," he says encouragingly. "You like this so much. I know that you do." Crowley makes an emphatic noise of assent. "Take as much as you'd like. You know you want it."
Crowley doesn't stop sucking, reveling in the feeling of Aziraphale's cock heavy on his tongue, stretching his lips open just so, not painful but enough that he feels it, will feel it later. His own cock is so hard that it's dripping, but this is so much more interesting than worrying about how much he needs to come, though he already needs to.
"Let's stop for a moment," Aziraphale says after too short a time, guiding him back. "Otherwise this is going to end quite suddenly, I'm afraid."
"Bedroom," Crowley mutters against his hip.
"Oh, by all means," Aziraphale says, extracting himself and walking with a businesslike stride towards it.
There is something in Crowley that still loves the ground, ranging over it; he really wants to slither behind Aziraphale, follow him sinuously, but his stupid human shape won't let him do it. He does the next best thing and crawls, and Aziraphale's breath catches when he notices Crowley doing it, stopping to let Crowley catch up. He runs his fingers through Crowley's hair, and Crowley hisses in pleasure.
"I'd say 'Get thee behind me', but I really don't mean it," Aziraphale says.
Once they're both in the bedroom, Aziraphale starts undressing as Crowley climbs onto the bed, still on his hands and knees. He watches Aziraphale, swaths of skin being uncovered slowly, and it's a miracle beyond miracles that he doesn't just jump on him and bear him to the floor. He wants the fantasy of it too much, more of Aziraphale's words, velvety on his tongue.
"Show me how you'd like it, dear," Aziraphale says, now naked and ready. Crowley doesn't respond. "You must have some idea." Aziraphale bends down, speaking into his ear. "Go on, darling. Show me how you think of it happening. You know you need this. Show me how much."
The bed has a huge fuck-off headboard, specifically to be used for sexual purposes, and Crowley finds two good handholds on it; grabbing hold leaves him bent over, his ass thrust out like he's begging for it. He feels the mattress dip, then Aziraphale's legs brushing his own, encouraging him to spread wider.
"You'll like this," Aziraphale says, his fingers already slick when he touches Crowley, rubbing over his entrance. "Just let me in. It's really nothing bad at all."
"You're too much," Crowley says, as Aziraphale's fingers breach him, and he means it in the nicest way possible. He bites his lip as Aziraphale preps him; Aziraphale somehow finds a way to make it seem loving, as he does with so many things. Crowley feels positively cared for, which is a ridiculous thing to feel when you're a demon and/or about to get fucked.
If Crowley isn't about to get fucked, he's going to die right here. Hell will puzzle over it for centuries.
Aziraphale pulls his fingers out, and Crowley makes a noise at the loss. "Is there something you wanted, my dearest?" Aziraphale says, curling his hands around Crowley's hips.
"Oh, you know, doing fine," Crowley says, wanting to draw it out, wanting to feel like this is all Aziraphale's doing; it's sumptuous, in the way that really good temptation is.
"I don't know about that," Aziraphale says, petting his back, his hands dragging over his skin. "Don't you want me to take you, darling? You like it ever so much."
"Don't make me beg," Crowley whines.
"And why not?" Aziraphale says. "You beg so prettily." Crowley jumps when Aziraphale nips him, right on the curve of his ass. "Just think of how good it's going to feel when I push inside of you."
"Oh fuck," Crowley pants.
"Come on, dear, just say the words," Aziraphale says. "You want to say them so badly, don't you? You'll feel so nice if you just admit it."
"Fuck me," Crowley says, canting his hips back. "Please, please, fuck me."
"How could I say no?" Aziraphale says, and Crowley cries out as he does it, sliding in until he bottoms out. The sensation of giving in feels like being dropped into a hot bath, and he wonders if humans have been experiencing it like this the whole time, the full-body sensation washing over him. If so, he knows now why temptation is so effective.
"Yes," Crowley hisses. "Yes, do it harder, I give in, I give up."
"I told you you'd like it if you did," Aziraphale says, sounding really pleased with himself. His manicured fingernails dig into Crowley's hips, and Crowley pushes back against him as much as he can, needing, after all that, to be taken in body too.
Aziraphale fucks him until they're both panting, until Crowley is writhing and begging for it. He's too far gone to even care what begging makes him; he feels sinful in the good way, the easy way, the delicious one, the way humans do. Aziraphale's cock inside him feels wrong in exactly the right way, and he can't hold back any longer.
"Don't make me come," Crowley begs. "Please, anything but that."
"You want to do it so badly, don't you?" Aziraphale says breathlessly, picking up on it instantly. "You've come this far. What's one more little thing?" Aziraphale bites down on his earlobe, worrying it with his teeth for a moment. "Come on, my dear little demon. I want you to come for me, just like you should."
Aziraphale punctuates it by snapping his hips forward, driving in hard again and again, and Crowley comes all over himself. Aziraphale doesn't swear, but it's a near thing; it's only moments before Crowley feels him coming, filling Crowley up. Crowley shivers, caught between too many sensations, but Aziraphale holds him fast, kissing his shoulder gently.
When Aziraphale turns him loose, Crowley just sort of slumps onto the bed, drifting downwards until he has his cheek against the pillow, his long limbs stretched out. Aziraphale is right next to him; he's resting his head on Crowley's back, which sounds like it should be awkward but feels nice.
"Well, I can't say I've ever done it like that before," Aziraphale says.
"Mmm," Crowley says.
"It was really quite something, though I'd hate to get too attached to the whole temptation game," Aziraphale adds.
"Hmm," Crowley says.
"Are you even listening to me?" Aziraphale asks, sounding exasperated.
"Mm-hm," Crowley says. With great effort, he manages to flip himself over, holding out an arm so that Aziraphale can lay his head on it. "That was inspired."
"Oh, good," Aziraphale says. "I'm afraid temptation has never come naturally to me. When you asked me to earlier, I was afraid you'd have professional concerns over it."
"There's always room for growth," Crowley says. "But what I've seen of you leads me to believe you're doing a bang-up job."
"Thank you," Aziraphale says, with a ridiculous little look of pleasure that makes Crowley pull him down and kiss it off his face.
The Arrangement continues. Crowley's even more sure now that it's in safe hands.