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You Take Me (Higher)

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The apocalypse that wasn't had ended only seven days ago.

Crowley had got his Bentley back, and Aziraphale had his bookshop.

The world spun on like it always had, but neither demon nor angel had been seen for some time. 

Up above the angel's bookshop, there was a little nook-it held a large bed with the softest, tautest mattress and the most heavenly duvet. The room was a somewhat recent addition and had been, for some time, a spare place for Aziraphale to get some rest when he'd been sitting at his desk for too long, and his wings had begun to get sore.  

The bed was a lovely safe haven for Aziraphale, who until recently, had never really made much use of beds, and had thought them a waste of time. One could read for all the centuries of the world and still not have read everything. There was always something more interesting to do outside of beds than in them, or so he'd always thought.

He thought differently now.

He was just waking up from a rather luxurious nap (another recent habit) when he felt the kisses being pressed to the top of his spine.

If he wanted to, he could simply close his eyes, and sleep like this. Crowley wouldn't bother him more than this.

If he wanted to.

Instead, he let out a little sigh, just loud enough for Crowley to get the signal, the idea that he was up.

Crowley pounced on it, as he knew he would, those kisses turning a little firmer, that mouth reaching to up the back of his neck, to nibble just under his ear. 

"Did you have a good nap?" the demon asked him, his other hand pressing Aziraphale's body against him, reaching up under the soft skin of his thighs to press, just so, near the space between his cheeks.

"Oh, yes," Aziraphale breathed wistfully. He could feel the demon's sex pressed hard against him, could feel his own body already beginning to respond. 

"I've been thinking of you," Crowley went on, and two fingers made their way inside him, where he was still wet and warm from earlier. 

Aziraphale couldn't bring himself to be disgusted with it, it was proof of their love, and it certainly made things easier when Crowley wanted to go again. 

"Have you?" Aziraphale asked, his voice going soft and high at the edges as Crowley crooked his fingers just so. 

"Mmm, yes," Crowley murmured, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses at the nape of his neck. "'m always thinking of you."

Aziraphale exhaled shakily. "Is that so."

He could feel the demon's smile against his skin. "You know it's so."

He pushed in another finger.


"Let me in, Aziraphale," Crowley murmured, scissoring his fingers a little, and Aziraphale saw stars. "How you manage to stay so tight-"

"I thought you liked tight," Aziraphale gasped, pushing back against his touch.

"Mmm, I do," Crowley reassured him, sounding pleased. "But I also like it when I can tell, you know...that I've had you."

"Oh," Aziraphale gulped, and he forced his body to relax...enough that Crowley could add a fourth finger.

"Hell preserve us," Crowley said in that low, sexy way of his, sounding way too fascinated by the whole thing. "I could fit my whole hand up there-'

"Crowley," Aziraphale chided, turning red. "I don't-"

"Now, don't get tetchy," Crowley said, kissing the base of his spine. "That wasn't a complaint."

Aziraphale made a dubious noise, and Crowley surprised him, taking out his fingers, making Aziraphale moan with the loss.

Crowley adjusted him, moving him at his will, and suddenly there were two long hands on either side of his buttocks, pulling his cheeks apart. 

"Crowley," Aziraphale breathed. He was going to leak. He was already leaking. His cock was weeping against the bedsheets, and he could feel Crowley's seed begin to spill out of him. It was truly obscene, Aziraphale thought, and he hid his face in the pillow. 

"Don't be embarrassed, darling," Crowley admonished, pressing at his hole with his thumb and watching it flutter, before gathering up the pearly liquid and pushing it back inside. "I like it when you're a slut."

Aziraphale couldn't even speak, but Crowley always seemed to know when he liked something. 

Especially when that something involved making him blush and gasp at its rudeness. 

It shouldn't feel so good, but it did. That had to be what made it a sin, Aziraphale supposed, but he was already this sin's bitch.

"I like it when you're my slut," Crowley corrected in that dark purr of his, and Aziraphale moaned.

"That's it," Crowley crowed, and he was repositioning Aziraphale again. "That's what I thought."

"Crowley," Aziraphale whimpered.

"Shhh, angel," Crowley hushed him, lining up his cock and beginning to press in. "Just one more."

Of course, that's what he'd said the last time. And the time before that.

They'd waited a long time for this. Too long. 

He was sure that he must've had some people try to go to his shop by now. Must've missed some phone calls. Something.

Oh, heavens, they could've missed the bloody apocalypse for all he cared, now as Crowley held him to himself and pushed his cock inside him.

"Uhnn," Aziraphale said intelligently, before whispering, "Oh, fuck."

"Yeah, that's it," Crowley encouraged him, pulling, not too harshly, on his curls. They had to be an utter mess by now. He didn't know the last time he'd combed them, much less gave them a wash.

Clearly, Crowley couldn't be bothered to care. 

"That's it, my angel," Crowley murmured, "That's it sweetheart. You take me so well."

Sometimes they just rocked together like this, Crowley coming in like a thief in the night, curling up to him and taking him gently on his side.

"Crowley," Aziraphale bleated, and his demon somehow understood.

"Who's daddy's slut?" Crowley whispered in his ear, and Aziraphale must have turned several shades of red and purple because Crowley laughed, softly, wickedly, against him. It was clear, which of the two of them indulged in human pornography. Aziraphale would say he didn't approve, but it did give Crowley the most...imaginative phrases. 

"Crowley," Aziraphale admonished, but it was hard to sound properly reprimanding when you were pushing back against a cock that you wanted to fuck you very well.

Crowley knew this, and waited, patiently, for his payoff. 

Finally, he gave in. 

"...I am," Aziraphale whispered. 

"C' mon, angel," Crowley taunted him, running a finger up the length of his throbbing member. "You can do better than that."

 "I am," Aziraphale braved louder. "I-I-I am your slut."

Crowley pulled out.

Aziraphale didn't get a chance to fret over why because he was being moved again, this time he was rolled onto his back.

Crowley looked down at him, utterly guileless, his yellow eyes glinting, pupils blown wide with desire. "Say that again."

"Daddy?" Aziraphale asked uncertainly, remembering the element he'd forgotten, and he saw the expression on Crowley's face soften. 

"No," he said, and he cut his eyes, those beautiful eyes, away from him. It wasn't unlike how they had ended up here in the first place. Too drunk to stop himself, he had reached up to take Crowley's glasses off, celebrating the end of..the whole mess, and had touched his cheek.

Crowley had looked at him like that then, from hopeful, to heartbreakingly earnest. 

Like he looked at him now.

"I mean-say that you're mine." 


Aziraphale could certainly do that.

He took Crowley's hand in his and pressed a kiss to his wrist. "I'm yours," he promised. "From now until forever."

There was a wavering doubt that made him add, in a softer voice, "Or as long as you'll have me."

"Oh, sweetheart," Crowley said fiercely. "As if I'm ever letting you go."

He pushed back in, and Aziraphale's legs curled around him on impulse, melding their bodies together-again they became one flesh.

Their holy communion.

Crowley fucked him up against the headboard of this grand bed-making it rock dangerously against the wall. 

Aziraphale would have sworn he'd fixed the sound, that he'd miracled it away to keep suspicions from arising, but he wouldn't have been surprised if Crowley had miracled it back.

He was ever so fiercely possessive of him at times, it seemed. 

Aziraphale wouldn't have been surprised if his shop had a sign that said, 'In process of consummating my relationship very thoroughly, as I am no longer a single man, and therefore, no longer on the market. Be back later.' (He imagined Crowley would use crasser language, but the sentiment would be the same. He should probably be more cross at the idea than he was.)

"Do you like it when I fuck you?" Crowley asked, their foreheads pushed together, and Aziraphale so out of his mind with pleasure he could hardly speak. Crowley did so need positive reinforcement at times.

"Yes," Aziraphale gasped. "Oh, heavens, please don't stop."

"Shhh," Crowley said, but he was smiling fiendishly. "It's alright, I have you."

"You've already had me," Aziraphale said petulantly. "Many times."

Crowley ignored him, silencing his little complaints with a kiss.

Crowley was very good at kissing...and terribly good at fucking. 

It was all in those hips, Aziraphale thought privately. Those wicked hips.

"Mmm," Crowley said, seeming to have a change of heart. "Not so tight now."

Aziraphale turned scarlet, and Crowley kissed the apple of each cheek.

"I can just...slip in and out whenever I like," Crowley murmured fiendishly. "Perfect."

"Crowley," Aziraphale begged, and Crowley grinned, nice and sharp.

"No, I think I'll always keep you like this," he said, keeping Aziraphale at a punishing pace. "Wet, and loose...always ready for me."

Aziraphale's cock twitched against his stomach, and Crowley felt it, his grin deepening. "That way, whenever I need it...whenever you need it, I can just, push down your trousers-"

"Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped. 

"And take you, right then," Crowley said, "Let daddy give you what you need."

He began to fuck him in earnest now until Aziraphale was wailing with twin desire and over-sensitivity. 

It was too much. It was not enough. 

He fucked him until Aziraphale came all over himself, between them, until Crowley had gone red in the face, and was leaving fierce love bites on the side of his neck, that might as well have read, 'Property of Anthony J. Crowley' (he was surprised he hadn't woken up yet with a new tattoo). 

"Please!" Aziraphale begged, his legs shaky, his voice wrecked, every part of him used, and still Crowley was thrusting inside, still, he was seeking release. 

Crowley suddenly stopped, "Please, what angel?" he asked, panting, and his hair hung low in front of his face. He looked so very fetching then, so very tempting...but Aziraphale already needed some peace. He just needed time to catch his breath.

"Please," he began in a shaky voice.

He spread his legs just the littlest bit more. 

"Please daddy, " he said, fighting feeling ever so foolish. "Come inside my hole."

Crowley moved at him so fast, Aziraphale let out a quiet, "Oh!" as his mouth was taken by the demon, those hips moving in mysterious ways, deep inside him.

In no time at all, Crowley obliged.

Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief, as warm as the pleasure he felt filling him (and filling him) from Crowley's cock.

Playing with his demon's hair while Crowley came down from his high, Aziraphale braced for the unwanted feeling of Crowley pulling out.

It didn't come.

Crowley held him to himself, but this time his cock didn't soften, but stayed where it was, pressed up inside him.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said in a wavering voice. "What on earth-"

"Shh, angel," Crowley said, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against his skin. "Sleep."

As sleep crept upon him, Aziraphale gave himself over to it, allowing himself to succumb to its weakness as he had succumbed to others. Aziraphale had the feeling he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.